Our Engagement or Yours?

[Published by In The Know Traveler]

A colorful insight into a traditional Yòrubá engagement ceremony

Rain fell. Not hard but just enough to give us a few minutes to collect ourselves and observe the world through tinted windows. A few feet away, uninvited cameramen stand in the light rain, waiting for the bride and her sisters to emerge. The photographers are a tradition at these ceremonies …taking pictures of people, which they develop within minutes and try to sell back to the unsuspecting party.

There is already a frenzy of activity…women in colorful traditional attires called “aso-okes” mill around. Their headties [“geles”] are perched at impossible angles on their heads, defying gravity.

We watch as the official caterers transfer food from their vans to the hall. We can tell them apart from guests who decided to bring their own food and voluntarily contribute to the event. We watch as the traditional [“bata”] drummers run from arriving guest to exiting guest, playing the drums, and praising them in our language in the hopes of getting sprayed….a term used for receiving money on your forehead, neck, or any other body part instead of in your hands.

This is the first engagement in my immediate family. My sister’s; and we are excited.

Invitations had already been printed and sent out on her behalf so most of the arriving guests look unfamiliar. We can’t hide our glee when we spot a familiar face… followed by unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face after semi-familiar face filing into the hall.

Already an hour late, my other sisters and I decide to go in, leaving the bride behind. The ceremony will start whenever our parents want it to start…..regardless of what was printed on the invitations they ironically sent out. We walk into a hall that is filled with colorful attire; greens for the groom’s side and purples for the bride’s side. Even random guests with no ties to both sides still come dressed in supporting colors. Almost in a sinful yet luxurious manner, they’d already started eating and reveling.

There are three bands playing simultaneously, each refusing to give the other a moment of spotlight. So, what we have are traditional Calabar dancers moving through the guests, gyrating, and shaking to gospel music being belted out by another band. We stand rooted, trying to absorb all what is going on around us. When we are ready, we are expected to jump into the flow.

“Take one!” a random lady semi-yells at me, poking me with the gift item she wants to give me. I look at it.

A plastic fan with a picture of my sister and her fiancé printed on it with the words “Congratulations!” I study it. This has not been sanctioned by my family. The guests and other extended family members are bringing gifts to share with each other. Just like the coolers of food and crates of drinks they’d personally brought in to share. Soon enough, we are handed plastic containers, handkerchiefs, scarves, and pens from different individuals with pictures or words congratulating the newly engaged couple.

We stroll over to the table that held the traditional gifts from the family of the groom to our family. Tubers of yams, crates of beer, sacks of rice, bottles of wine, a hamper basket of items , boxes of biscuits, etc… some of which we all guess correctly based on the shape of each wrapped gift! More and more wrapped items are brought in and added to the pile.

It is at this moment I glance at my sisters and we smile. The way the morning had started back home should have given us a glimpse into what we would later witness. Way before the crack of dawn, we’d started changing into traditional attire, navigating through a maze of thirty (30) relatives who had decided to come spend the night, prepare us, and carpool with us to the festivities.

We are now an hour and a half late and the traditional engagement ceremony hadn’t officially started!

An outsider looking in would think total chaos but in my culture, this is one of the ways we express love and support. Our selfless need to tirelessly work and celebrate on one another’s behalf is something I am proud of. We take the concept of sharing to a new level.

In my culture – Yòrubá, the term “community” is not just another word. We live and breathe it. It takes a community to raise children, teach children, acknowledge their successes, encourage them when they fail, and, celebrate their engagements and weddings. A Nigerian traditional engagement isn’t really about you but an opportunity for family and friends and friends of friends to reunite and reminisce on your behalf. Everyone was your auntie or uncle. So by bringing more food to your ceremony or bringing their own gifts to hand to your guests, it was an obligation, not an inconvenience.

The term, “mo gbọ, mo ya” literally translates into “I heard, I stopped by” which means if I heard someone I knew was getting engaged or married, I would stop by to celebrate with them. Official invitations to traditional engagements are just done out of courtesy.

As I observe the genuine happiness and warmth that emanates from the people moving around, eating, dancing, and sharing, I smile.

You would think we had walked into someone else’s engagement party…….

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