It may not have had the glitz and glamour of the recent lavish wedding of billionaire heiress Ivy Getty in San Francisco. Or the historical resonance of the October nuptials in St. Petersburg of Grand Duke George Mikhailovich Romanov, who is a descendant of Russia’s last Tsar, Nicholas II. But my fiancée and now wife, Merveille, and I did manage to celebrate three weddings in a single day here in Covid-cautious Kigali, complete with masks at the civil ceremony at the town hall, social distancing at the religious service and an early ending to comply with curfew requirements for the dinner reception and traditional observances. Of course, many things did not go according to plan – we organized everything in only a month – but the most important elements of the day went right for us and a small group of invited relatives and friends. And we are now happily married. Phew! It took me three weeks and three visits to the bank to be able to transfer the money for the Inkwano (cow dowry) to Merveille’s family and on the morning of the big day, the YEGO taxi system went down right before my two guests from Goma and I wanted to go to the Town Hall to join Merveille and others for the civil service. Merveille just called up a limo driver she knew and we were all able to meet up there on time. Once we were legally married, everyone rushed off to get ready for the religious ceremony at the historic Mille Collines hotel at 15.00. I took time to reflect alone and change my suit before heading up to the covered, roof-top terrace at 14.40 to greet guests. No one else was there yet. The clock ticked slowly through to 15.00. No one else was there yet. Not even the pastor. But by 15.30, the daily rains started and so did the religious service. Only half the family and friends were there by then and I had no idea where the bride was. Right on cue though, Merveille showed up with her beloved father, looking spectacular again. The ceremony was mostly joyous but I was very relieved when Merveille and the attendees started tearing up in the right places while I was nervously reciting my vows in Kinyarwanda (thanks to my very patient teacher Denyse). We were double married now and it was time for endless photo-taking before the wedding reception just down the hallway. When we arrived in the light and airy Kivu rooms, we were ushered to the front where a special podium with chairs and a low table had been set up for us to welcome everyone into “my house”. The first thing we did was to cut the wedding cake but not before flaming candles and live fireworks were lit on and around it. This would never pass code or insurance requirements at an indoor wedding in the USA. On the other hand, there were many ingredients of a traditional US wedding that we did not include either: no formally printed invites; no online wedding registry for gifts; no riotous bachelor or bachelorette parties; no rehearsal dinner; and certainly no limousine with rice, streamers and cans (as were staying overnight in the hotel and we will hopefully be able to honeymoon in Europe in January). Some friends overseas kindly wanted to mail gifts to us but were shocked when I told them that the cost of mailing even a tiny, replacement contact lens from Texas is over 200 US dollars. There was no live band or singer either but we did have a charismatic emcee and an eclectic DJ. We were fine dancing to modern music, apart from the long train on Merveille’s dress. Traditional Rwandan dancing was a lot more tricky for me but I eventually got the hang of it. Guests seemed to appreciate me just trying. Then came the time for speeches and gift-giving. I spoke mostly in English but I wanted to address Merveille’s mother in Kinyarwanda and fortunately, people were laughing this time in the right places. About half-way through the reception, we transitioned to aspects of the third and more traditional wedding ceremony. Merveille, her older sister and one of my witnesses all changed into traditional umushananas (long, flowing silk dresses). Then we celebrated Gutwikurura in our suite, symbolically welcoming Merveille into womanhood. The elders unveiled us and then we were given milk by the youngest guests to represent fertility for any future children that we might be so lucky as to have. I wasn’t sure whether to gusoma (sip) the milk or gusoma (kiss) the bride first. Or both! We danced some more and then it was time for our guests to go home before the Covid curfew. Merveille and I weren’t quite ready to call it a night as yet and neither were the wonderful hotel staff. They asked us to take photos and then we started dancing again with them. The star of the show was the dancing chef, complete with his tall toque blanche. It was an unusual and exhilarating way to end a unique day of fully embracing and accepting community, ambiguity and joy. It was a day that I will always treasure and never forget. And overall, this whole crazy but fun celebration seemed like a fitting way to cap another strange year of Covid restrictions and discoveries during which I have learned greater patience, perseverance and compassion for myself and others. And a strong sense of humor and humility has certainly helped too. What have you learned about yourself and others this year? What do you want to learn next year? Please let me know your answers to these questions before this column returns on 27 January. This is the latest in a monthly series of personal columns, entitled “Letter from Kigali”. Each month, local resident and writer, Jeremy Solomons – who was born and educated in England of Jewish, Lebanese and Persian heritage and naturalized in the USA - shares a unique perspective on what is happening in Rwanda, Africa and the rest of the world. The views expressed in this column are entirely those of the writer who can be reached at jeremy@jeremysolomons.com
