There was a bit of a chill in the air and with fresh coffee and slaptjips still warm in our tummies, we got our gear out for some test shots. We were greeted by a friendly neighbour who was quick to offer us breakfast at his place, but Malumi soon interrupted our polite decline with a cheerful harp solo. Family members and friends were busy everywhere cleaning, cooking and enjoying the occasional Hansa, after all “any time is tea time!”.
The groom arrived shortly before 9am and we spent a long time talking and laughing about the trials of marriage. A few good chuckles later and after filming the last of the lebola negotiations we were offered a “local celebratory yogurt” i.e. a warm, sweet, porridge-like corn brew with questionable ingredients and an even more unsettling after-taste. Trying to be polite, I took a few more sips than the others and handed the still half-full glass of sweet-soup back to the bride's grandmother. It was only the day after our return that I tracked my turning stomach's upset back to this moment. The sheep slaughter was drawing near...
We chatted for a while about how graphic the documentation of the slaughter should be and finally decided that Carene should keep herself busy elsewhere while Dieter and myself will go in for some closeups. The smell of smoke, home brewed beer and the lingering taste of grainy yogurt was filling our senses. I couldn't help feeling tempted to abandon ship and hand the camera to Francois, who was enjoying our discomfort just a little too much. Maybe I can close my eyes while shooting? Too late, it was happening....
Half looking, half squinting I shoot away. I was surprised by how calm and quick everything went. First the head and feet were removed, followed by the organs and finally the skin. After the carcass was hung, the groom had to drink some of the homemade beer, a brownish milky brew. This signaled his acceptance into the family after which he is allowed to enter the bride's family's house through any door without having to be invited. According to custom, he was now part of the family.
The internal organs got prepared for burial and some of it cleaned for cooking while the groom had to eat a piece of liver as part of the ritual. This small piece of raw liver is “cooked” by pouring a few drops of the sheep's internal acids on it. As interesting as all this was, I'm still not sure why I felt compelled to stand by as the endless piece of intestine was being cleaned out.
After a welcome cup of tea, some muffins and a musical of sorts by Malumi and one of the bride's aunts, we had some time to kill while the rest of the wedding preparations were being taken care of. It was almost midday now and we decided to catch 40 winks in the car while the bride went to a nearby village to get ready for the rest of the proceedings. But not before Dieter found himself in a one-sided and slurred conversation with Malumi (who was apparently asking for a lift back to Pretoria). As sorry as I felt for the sweet man, I got concerned when Dieter started nodding “yes” to all Malumi's questions... Somehow I didn't think he'd fit in the car...
More and more people were starting to arrive and soon the area was filled with family, friends and neighbours. This offered the perfect opportunity for some fun and interesting portrait shots.
The band started to perform, busted up drums and all, while the dancers seemed to enjoy performing the traditional stick dancing. The bride and groom arrived at approximately the same time and with their families, sweepers, praise singers and Malumi leading the way, met each other dancing and singing. Rich and poor, young and old, Sesotho and South African, everyone was cheering and ululating while sweeping up the bride and groom in a crowded embrace.
As Malumi's eyes started drooping, his harp was soon drowned out by everyone's singing and the band's accordian player took the lime light. Not long after the gift offerings, everyone found their seats in the beautifully decorated, big, white tent.
Several speeches and more gift exchanges later, the bride was swept away by her mother-in-law to be dressed in the traditional Swazi dress. As I was waiting outside the house for her to exit, I spotted Malumi sleeping soundly under a tree, harp lying in the grass. The band started playing again and the bride and groom walked between the people, greeting all the locals, while Francois' camera was being admired by the kids.
It was almost dark by the time the proceedings were finally over and we started to pack up after scoffing down a delicious meal. Lines of locals were crowding outside the tent collecting their packaged meals as we walked to the car and little kids were still running around everywhere.
Besides a few nature calls, a quick stop to admire the stars and a 40km detour on a bumpy dirt road, the ride back home was pretty uneventful. Between choruses of “Wenners” by Danie Botha and funk rap by Toby mac, we chatted about cannibalistic cows, slow service at KFC and every now and then about the passion in Malumi's musical mumbles. We didn't spot the-ominous-moose-that-got-loose again and got home safely just after midnight. Everything went Stoompomp.
Sleep well music man :)
