Weddings are supposed to be beautiful. It is meant to be a celebration of 2 people who are being joined in marriage.
It is a historic event, one that marks the beginning of a family. At least that is what I grew up believing. That is what has been ingrained in me from the various weddings I have been to... Specifically, 3 weddings to be precise.
Yeah! I have only been to 3 weddings in my life. And you see that traditional wedding? That one that depends on the tribe the woman is from? I never attended one until Saturday, then I regretted going. I then realized why I never wanted to go.
I am not a fan of traditional things. I love to see things done logically, even though I can be very illogical in my approach to a lot of things... It is this my tendency to irrationality that propells me away from irrational people and events.
I decided to attend a wedding last week Saturday, as a way of showing up for a friend. I was just meant to go, observe and maybe do some moral support or financial support as the case may be.
The wedding was holding in a town that was about 5 hours away by road. Not like there was a train or plane to the place anyways. I took out my blue attire that I would be wearing to the wedding. Ironed it. Folded it and kept in my bag...
Then I dressed up and started my journey to the town. I think I
The town is called Ikire, in Ekiti State. Fast forward, I arrived. I got to my hotel and lodged in for the night.
The next day was the wedding. It was in 2 parts. The traditional wedding that showed the true Yoruba color of the couple. And then the Church wedding which is meant to show their English color... Like we are ambiguous as Nigerians because we were colonized by the Brit...
Anyways, I dressed up and went for the traditional wedding, innocently, not suspecting anything. Only to go there and find out that some folks who were supposed to show up, didn't show up. I had to fill in. Take there place and do what must be done.
To make matters worse, I had coincidentally chosen the same color of clothes that the grooms friends had arranged to wear. So it was like I had planned to be part of them... How could I say no?
Well, I joined and then being a traditional marriage in Yoruba land and seeing that I am not Yoruba, I was lost in the battery of activities that went on. I didn't understand why anything was done. I didn't understand shi shi...
Then came the humiliating part. The groom had to prostrate before the parents of the bride. Oh... Not just the groom... The groom and his friends... So we did...I was a coopted friend of the groom.
It was in the bare floor. Very dusty, and I didn't want to stain the cloth I was wearing, I didn't bring a change of clothes...so I just decided to go down like I was doing press up... Thank God for some of the practice lessons I used to do.
"E Di de"
I was relieved. I could understand that one. It meant I should stand up. I wasted no time to get to my feet. Then I had another shocker.
I saw the guy in front of me go down again. I knew what it meant, I had to go down again. I was still rubbing my sore muscles from the one I just finished... I couldn't argue, so, down I went.
My hands were beginning to shake. I had not anticipated this. If I had, I would probably had done a lot of practice pushups and planking to strengthen my biceps. Now my whole body was shaking...
"E Di de"
Finally.! Phew! I thought it would never end. At least I was able to save my clothes from dirt. The groom had his whole clothes dusty, stained. He needed to get cleaned up. But why would we need to go down so many times. They said it was a sign of respect. But can't I just show my respect using a humble bow? Like some Asian cutures do. Why do I have to go all the way to the ground.?
"Oya, e dobale"
I was still ruminating on the logicality of lying down on the ground to show respect when I was interrupted by the voice that instructed that we must go down again.
Ah ah.!
Not again. I wanted to cry 😭. My biceps were already getting sore. Oh God. What have I entered into like this? I had to go down when the groom and the other guy in front of me had already gone down.
I almost gave up my position pressing up. I was sorely tempted to just lie on my stomach and damn whatever dust would stain my clothes. But somehow, I managed to hold on.
Well, we ended up prostrating 5 times on the bare dusty floor. In fact, the groom was required to go even further, he was to show his respect and gratitude to God by rolling on the bare dusty floor from one side to another. He did that until his obviously brand new attire was looking all but new.
Then I asked myself, is wedding/marriage a way to humiliate you before your in-laws? Is that what it should be? Why does a man have to show respect by lying on his stomach. Does it mean that there is no other acceptable way to show respect that doesn't involve groveling in the sand?
The bigger question became apparent. Could it be that tradition of lying on your stomach to show respect to elders was an action misplaced in history but carried along from one generation to another?
We have had a lot of those happenings. A man walking barefoot to the farm because he couldn't find a shoe size in the market. His follows begin to copy him, including those who have pristine shoes to wear. Then it goes from one generation to another, until it became a custom...a tradition.
Could lying on your stomach be one of those happenings? Traditions are good, admirable to the extent to which they are rational in their context and provide a people with a distinction that separates them from other cultures.
But when rationality is thrown out the window, tradition becomes harmful.
Anyways, that's the end of my rant today.