One Wedding and One Funeral

Written on April 5th, 2011

I got back to village on Monday morning after a two week jaunt around the Gambia with my mom and dad. I was expecting it to be a big and busy Gambian day but I didn't realize how busy or big it would be until I was walking into village, towards the skills center and my compound and I heard the wailing. A man in the compound next to mine who had been ill for a while had just died. Everyone was ashen and silent they sprung into action bringing chairs over to the compound and stringing up tarps for shade. To make the situation crazier a young women in the compound on the other side of mine was getting married at exactly the same time as all the funeral arrangements were going on. But this was in no way a fun rom-com starring Hugh Grant. I watched curiously as grief and happiness coexisted, as they often do in the Gambia.
The two programs were quickly divided between the young and the old. All the young people from our side of the village, including me, went to the wedding for the morning and the majority of the adults went to help with the funeral and burial. Not surprisingly everyone at the wedding was talking about the death and kept saying "Tey Kerr Jarga, neexoot dara." "Today Kerr Jarga is not nice at all." The wedding dd not feature any of the drums or dancing that traditionally accompany a wedding ceremony but the food was still plentiful and everyone got dressed to the nines. Around 1 pm we all went home and took a break from the wedding, I slept in the heat of the day and woke up at 5 pm as they were preparing to take the body to the village cemetery for burial. Men in traditional complets and women all with big shawls over their heads gathered in the compound and everyone started "wailing"--it sounds kind of like saying "laay laay eee laay laay" over and over again. The men took the body on a procession through the village and the women stayed in the compound and wailed. I watched from a respectful distance and thought about how much I admire Gambians sense of community--no matter how close you were to this person he was someones son, someones husband and his death is worth a little time and wailing to support his family. I also appreciate how no one here questions participating: you just go, give a small charity to the family, because that's the right thing to do.
After all the wailing passed I put on a complet and went to watch the bride get made up in all of her wedding finery. Makeup here is definitely what we would describe as over the top. Painted on eyebrows, bright coloured eye shadow last popular in the 80s and fake eyelashes. Somehow though, maybe I've just lived here to long, but they manage to pull it off. Photos of the finished product and then we were off to her new house in her husbands compound. Usually there would be lots of singing and dancing but this was a quiet and respectful affair. She greeted all the assembled guests and they showed off all the gifts she had brought with her to the compound. We ate rice and coos coos and I went home to reflect.
Though every commented about it in passing everyone just accepted that the two programs just had to coexist. Just as grief and happiness can go hand and hand in the Gambia, so too I learned can a wedding and a funeral.