Two months after Elizabeth’s lobola discussion, where the groom, Robert paid 12 cows as her dowry,  the weekend of her weddings finally arrived. I say “weddings” because she planned to have two. One on Saturday, which would be the traditional Swazi wedding, and one on Sunday, which would be the Christian wedding.
I talked to Elizabeth and Robert one night, about getting their permission to take pictures at both weddings. At the time, this was before cell phones and digital cameras were invented. Most people did not have cameras. I had my trusty Canon AE-1 film camera, with which I had taken tens of thousands of pictures. I asked them for freedom to wander at will during the festivities, and in return, I would give them a nice album of the photos as a keepsake. I explained that this was traditional in my country, and assured them that they would love the photos. I don’t think they had ever thought of such a thing before, but they agreed.
The wedding Saturday arrived, and I had walked out to where there was a large kraal. A kraal is a round enclosure for cows and goats to spend the night safely, made from thorn branches, piled about 6 feet high, and about 4 feet thick. There are plenty of thorn bushes and trees in Swaziland. In fact, I don’t remember any trees except for the Marula fruit trees, that didn’t have thorns. There was a gate at the entry, that was also made of thorn branches, but tied together with cords, so that it could be dragged across the gateway, to close the kraal off from other animals at night. Someone, probably my two mothers (Swazis practiced polygamy if they wanted, and in my direct family, there was Musa and his two wives, Make Mamba and Make Khumalo. and 9 children.) The word make (pronounced mah-gay) means Mrs, or mother. I never knew what my two moms’ first names were. Everyone just called them make. The kraal was swept clean of its usual detritus, goat and cow poop.
Inside waited most of the Dlamini clan, dressed in their traditional outfits. The thorn gateway had been dragged aside, and in its place was a long 2×4 about waist high, wedged into the thorn branches on each side, closing off the kraal visually. My brother Sydney was standing guard inside the 2×4, and he had a long branch at the tip of which a blue bandanna was tied. There was a long path from the nearby dirt road to the kraal. Parked near the kraal was a box truck, like one in America that you could rent from U-haul. 
After about half an hour, a caravan of pickup trucks and vans came driving along the dirt road, and parked where the path struck off from the road. Out of the vehicles Robert and his family unloaded, and lined up to head up the path to the kraal. They got organized and proceeded to walk together up the path, and they all started singing traditional songs. At the head of the family group was Robert, and he too had a long branch with a red bandanna tied at its tip. They sang and walked slowly until they arrived at the gate of the kraal. Robert bowed to Sydney, and they exchanged traditional greetings. Then they started a dialogue.
Robert: I have come to claim my bride, to take her away and marry her.
Sydney: You may not take my sister. We love her, and will not let anyone take her away.
Robert: Then we shall battle, and the winner will keep Elizabeth.
Sydney: Then let us battle for her.
They saluted each other with their branches, and began a combat which was artful in the way that they used their branches. The key was to battle until one of the bandannas was separated from its branch and fell to the ground, thereby showing which man was the winner. I expected it to be a mock combat, but both men fought with great agility and slashed fiercely with their branches across the top of the 2×4 across the opening to the kraal. They danced around, leaping and slashing at each other’s branch, trying to separate the bandanna from the branch of their foe. 
This dance was representative of days in the long past, where if a man wanted a bride, he and his clan would go and do battle with the clan of the woman, and if they won, he would take the bride away. Both men battled skillfully. As they leaped and slashed, there was much cheering on both sides. Sydney was younger and more agile, and Robert was taller and more powerful. It seemed a draw, but finally, with a tricky leap and upward slash, Robert separated Sydney’s bandanna, and it fell to the ground. Sydney bent and retrieved the bandanna, bowed to Robert, and handed him the bandanna across the 2×4. Then he removed the 2×4, and Robert’s family, singing a song of victory, entered the Kraal. I don’t know what would have happened if Sydney had won. I guess the wedding would be off, and Musa would have had to give the 12 cows back.
Robert, and his mom and dad, and brothers were seated by my mothers and sisters in chairs that they had put in the kraal. Then my mothers and sisters sang and danced a welcome song to Robert and his family, while they took brooms and symbolically swept the ground in front of them. It was as well done as a broadway musical. My sisters scurried off and returned with plates of jelly bread and cups of water, and presented them gracefully to Robert and his family. After the bread and water was finished, the mothers took the cups and plates away.
Musa and his brothers and sons went to the box truck and started unloading things. I moved around among all the people and shot photo after photo. Robert’s family were curious about me at first, seemingly contravening the dignity of the ceremony, but eventually paid me no mind. I was, after all, the guy that cost them the two extra cows. The mothers went to the box truck where they gathered nice new blankets, and gave them to Robert and each of his family, who immediately wrapped themselves in them. It was a warmish day, and I suspect that the people were sweating a lot under the blankets.
The men at the box truck started unloading all sorts of things, and carried them into the kraal, and placed them in front of Robert’s family. There was a sofa, some upholstered chairs, a dining room table and four chairs. As each one was presented to the groom’s family, they cheered. Then they brought out a small refrigerator, and a cookstove, each gift being more spectacular than the last one. There were pots and pans and dishes and utensils. Towels and washbasins. Finally, they brought out a large bed, mattress and blankets, and 2 pillows, and my sisters made the bed neatly.
The people started chanting Robert and Elizabeth’s names, and they were each brought out from within their family groups. They were led to the bed by my sister Glory, and she indicated that they should get into it. As they got onto the bed and laid down, there was much laughing and cheering. Glory threw a blanket over them, and the people cheered and sang a song of happiness, as the new couple probably sweated furiously underneath. Finally the song ended, and they threw off the blanket, and hand in hand they approached the two families, and bowed before them amid loud cheering. 
The gifts were just what a newly married couple would need to start their new lives together. It was up to the bride’s family how fancy the gifts were to be, and it seemed that Musa, now 12 cows richer, had not spared the money, and had bought very nice goods. Robert and Elizabeth were set up well, ready to jump right into their new marriage.
It was, after all, expensive to come up with 12 cows for the lobola, and build a new house for your bride, and the groom was much the poorer for it. That, I figured, is why the gifts were household items to start your new life with. It might take you some time after your cow / house investment, to be able to buy the household goods yourownself.
Robert’s family carried the new goods back to the box truck, and off it drove, I guessed, to their new house on Robert’s homestead. Robert’s family got into their vehicles, and amid loud cheering, drove away. My family and I  headed back to our homestead, where we passed a normal day, sitting in the shade and talking about the ceremony we had just enjoyed.
I awoke Sunday morning before dawn. I walked out of my hut, and found Elizabeth, with Glory, Thabsile, and Ncamsile, walking around saying goodbye to everything and everybody. Elizabeth was crying. She said goodbye to me, and my hut, and all the huts on the homestead, and the chickens in their coop, and the dog, and the fields. Then they went and sat on the ground in the field, and sang such sad sweet songs of goodbye, that it almost started me crying. 
Both mothers and the girls got started cooking over fires, and it appeared to be a ton of food. In the center of the homestead were 5 or 6 tables and the necessary chairs that they borrowed from the church. I went into my house and put on my only dress shirt, with my only tie that I had brought when I came here. It was my Sam I am, Green Eggs and Ham tie. My favorite. I put on my last pair of jeans. I had brought 3 pairs with me from the States, but two had been washed so much that they fell apart.
About 11 o’clock Robert’s family arrived. They gathered together, and a preacher came out, and performed the traditional Christian wedding ceremony, with the rings, and the vows to honor and cherish each other. Then Robert’s family were seated at the various tables. Musa came to me.
Musa: Yes, Maseko, as my eldest son, you will be seated at First Table, with Robert and Elizabeth, and me and the mothers and Sydney.
First Table was, as you guessed, the first table to be served, and it was an honor that they invited me to sit there.
Me: May I be tardy to the table, Father, so that I can take photos of everybody?
Musa: Of course, Maseko.
I had been trying to get at least one photo that included each person at the wedding. I was hopping around and shooting photos as fast as I could press the shutter. The kids of both families were playing together, and I got some great photos of two little boys imitating the battle between Sydney and Robert with small sticks with notebook paper on the tips. They were so cute. Finally, as the mothers and my sisters started serving the plates of food, I claimed my seat next to Robert, and we talked about what it is like to be a Minister of Parliament. He was a pretty groovy guy, and his humor about his job made me smile.
There was a lot of food. Chicken, beef, cabbage salad, fruit salad, ligusha, and the ubiquitous white corn porridge. Roasted ears of corn. And Orange Squash for everybody. The small children hovered behind the celebrants, who shared their food with them. I ate until my belt was too tight.
As the meal was winding down, I got up and again floated around clicking my shutter. I went through 4 rolls of 36 exposure film over those two days. 
Finally Elizabeth and Robert got up from the table, and took their leave, amidst cheering and hand shaking and hugging. I helped the mothers clean up everything, and fold up the tables and chairs and load them into the preacher’s pickup truck. 
As I got ready to walk back to school, to prepare for the next day’s teaching, my grandmother took me aside.
Grandmother: Maseko, did you have a good time?
Me: Oh yes Grandmother. It was a wonderful celebration. I enjoyed it a great deal.
Grandmother: You must come over here and let me give you some meat to take back to school to share with the teachers.
We walked over to a tree, and hanging on a coat hanger was a large chunk of meat, wrapped with bridal veil netting to keep the flies off. Grandmother took the hangar down, and with a knife that she produced from the pocket of her dress, whacked me off a large piece of it, and handed it to me. Plop, a chunk of raw meat into my hand.
Me: Thank you Grandmother. I am sure that the teachers will enjoy this meat, and we will toast to the happy couple.
I scurried into my hut, and found a piece of paper, and wrapped the meat, and put it into my day pack. I said my goodbyes, and headed off into the bush for the walk back to my school.
Arriving at the teachers quarters several hours later, the teachers all came out to ask me about the weddings. They all had one question… “Was there meat?” Swazis out in the bush didn’t eat meat very often because it was expensive, and saved for special days.
Me: Yes, there was a lot of meat. In fact, I brought some back with me for you.
I took the meat out of my day pack, and noticed, for the first time, that it was a nice fat chunk of cow heart. The teachers started a fire on the ground, in the middle of the teachers quarters, and we sat around the fire, and roasted the meat on sticks, and roasted some mealies by the coals. (mealies are whole ears of white corn, fresh out of the field, that you put on a rock by the coals, and turned them every so often until they were hot and delicious. The teachers and I sat there eating roasted cow heart and mealies, and exchanging stories of weddings that we had gone to. It was quite the party.
I had never eaten heart before. It was delicious! The heart had all that smooth muscle, and the meat was smooth textured and rich in flavor. Probably the best beef I ever ate.
The following weekend, I took the bus into town, and went to the “Fast Foto” and gave them my 4 rolls of film. “Two weeks,” the guy said. “It will be back from Johannesburg in two weeks.” Fast Foto. Fast. Only two weeks.
Two weeks later I again went into town. While in the Fast Foto, I bought a large photo album that had wedding bells on the front, and headed up to the Peace Corps office to pick up my mail, and work on the Volunteer newsletter that I was the editor of for a couple hours. 
On the bus, heading back to my school, I took out the photos to look through them. I was seated between two women, and we spent the 4 1/2 hours looking at photos and telling stories. The bus ride went by in no time. Back at school, I selected 120 photos from the 144 I had shot, and arranged them in chronological order into the album that I had bought. It was a masterpiece, and I was sure that I had at least one photo containing every man, woman, and child at the wedding. And I had convinced my tiny 6 year old brother Mombazo, to use my big heavy camera and take a photo of me, in my wedding finery, with lots of people in the background, and I put it on the last page.
Next trip into town, two weeks later, I walked to the Ministry Building, and was stared at a lot by the bigwigs there in my scruffy non-teaching clothes as I found Robert’s office, and attempted to give him the album. He would not take it, and instead, he invited me to come to dinner that evening at his homestead, where Elizabeth would also be there to receive it.
I arrived at the homestead at dinner time, and we had a pleasant repast at the new dining room table, and afterward I took out the album, and handed it to Elizabeth. She opened the album, and immediately started crying. Soon the whole family was huddled around her, looking at the photos, and exclaiming, and pointing, and it was a party. I don’t think anyone there had ever seen a wedding album before. A couple hours later I shook Robert’s hand, and hugged Elizabeth, and took my leave.
I am pretty sure that if I have left a legacy in my wanderings through my life, it was there, with Elizabeth and Robert. I am sure that the album has been looked at many many times. And the accompanying story about the crazy American brother of Elizabeth, who took all the photos, and was the Woodworking teacher at Elulakeni High School.
In creating your own life, you create your legacy. <3
Walk softly through life, and leave beauty behind whenever you can. <3