The last time I attended a church wedding was in May 2015. [I’ll attend one later today. For now, we’ll focus on the last time.] It was my cousin’s wedding. She was getting married to the love of her life, a man I have grown to admire. She’s the first grandchild in our family. Her husband to be is the first son from his side of the family. This was a big deal for all us. It was important for members of both families to witness this union.
I wore my fitting suit, cream cotton shirt and a silk necktie with a silver mural on it. My shoes shone like the forehead of a child’s reflecting light. I looked in the mirror as I brushed my hair. I needed to look perfect. I wore new socks and to have fresh breath, I threw some Wrigley’s PK chewing gum between my teeth.
“I might get lucky and find love too at this wedding,” I thought.
I was thoroughly kempt and ready for the events of the day. I had the confidence of a man wearing new underwear. It was going to be a perfect day, a day to remember, and one that would be pinned on my mind for as long as my memory would last.
I stepped out of the car and walked up the steps to the entrance of the church. A carpet ran up the aisle, fresh flowers on both sides of the entrance, ribbons on pews. The choir took their position, a mini-band it was. They sang wedding songs as the groom walked in, taking perfect marching steps up the aisle to the alter to wait for his bride.
There were ululations in church. Trust my aunties to make the most of this. It’s a thing in my culture. Ululations of all kinds; short, extended, pitchy, loud.
The groom and his best man stood still at the alter as they waited for the bride. I imagine his heartrate shot up. It’s natural to have your heart racing during moments such as this one. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and I could see his chest move to the pattern of his breathing.
With her maid of honor, the bride walks in, taking strides of love on the aisle, the tail of her dress following gently, a lollipop of a flower in her hands. We all rise to our feet. I glance at my grandma and see her eyes filling up with tears. The sound of the choir is getting louder. My cousin’s smile is brilliant, an ornamental crown-like jewel on her head. How beautiful she looked!
Retired Archbishop Henry Luke Orombi led the service, a powerful sermon he gave on the goodness of marriage. And the most important moment of the ceremony came. The vows! The one that cements the knot and gets people clapping and cheering. It’s the part that opens the wells in the eyes of some people. The promise the groom and bride make to each other to be husband and wife, to walk through light and darkness together, to be there for each other no matter what happens.
I watch my cousin make that commitment. She had now become someone’s wife. It was surreal. I nodded and got teary eyes. I wiped them off and asked God to bless her marriage. And we celebrated with a meal and dancing that evening.
They celebrated four years in marriage last Thursday.
My blogging journey might not be as serious as my cousin’s marriage. But signing up to this blogging challenge is a commitment I’m making to myself to step out of my comfort zone and explore the possibilities in my writing. Some topics aren’t my forte. I’m uncomfortable with others they make me want to get into bed, bury my head under my pillow and sleep. I know, to dig into what my creativity can bring out, I’ll take a stab at each of the topics. Today is Day One.
I raise my glass to this blogging challenge. Los geht’s!