La boda

February 20, 2008

The little chapel named Bet-el was full of the fragrance of flowers. Red and white streamers hung from a little chandelier in the front of the church and trailed over to the rusty bars covering the paneless windows. Balloons of the same color hung above the windows and caused everyone to jump when one of them popped. Streamers flowed down the center isle and tiny bunches of white flowers were taped to the side of each pew. The chapel had a beautifuly ornate painting of a verdant valley full with streams, waterfalls, and lakes, and Jesus leading a young girl down a quiet mountain path. Bold blues, greens and yellows splashed across the wall in vibrant colors. In the corners vivid pinks, sunset orange, and majestic purples blended in a large overflowing vase of flowers painted in such esquisite detail you could almost not tell the real flowers from the painted ones. This was the church where the young equadorian teenagers, just 19 and 21 would be married.

I had been invited to the wedding by Manuel, the gardner/chaplain I had accompanied into the community to see patients with on Friday. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I dragged Florence, a missionary at the hospital for about 20 years with me, and she narrated the event for me. We were picked up at 6:30pm from the Church of the Nazarene in Shell and taken with the rest of the wedding guests by a chartered bus to the small but quaint town of Madretierra, about 4 miles outside Shell.

We selected a white bench against one wall and waited for the celebration to begin. The grooms family were Quichua Indians and many of the family had traveled many hours for the wedding and wore the traditional clothes of their region. Women clustered in brightly colored shawels with felt hats on, gold beads around their necks, and babies sleeping soundly slung around their backs. Once the guests had all sat down, the service began.

Four pink brides maids proceeded down the center isle to a wedding march and then stopped in the aisle so as to line the passage. The grooms men were opposite them and they raised their arms to join the bridesmaids and create an arched passageway for the bride. The bride appeared in a simple white gown, carrying white flowers and proceeded down the aisle to joing her groom at the front. She was a beautiful young girl with ebony black hair and a soft ringlet to the side of her face. She had her mothers features and a delicate bone structure. The groom was tall and thin and looked a bit awkward and uncomfortable to be the center of attention and have so many eyes headed his way.

Songs were sung, verses were read, a sermon was given, and two hours later they still had not exchanged vows. It was about this time as I was getting antsy on my hard wooded bench that groups of women began to come up to the front of the church to sing. “Oh good”, I thought, how nice it will be to hear the women sing. I wondered why there were no music CD’s of the Indian women’s singing when the mens songs and familiar wooden flutes were so prevalent and well recognized.

Then they opened their mouths and I had no doubt it was the worst sound I had ever heard. Four women with a bewildered toddler at their feet screeched a glass shattering tune off key at a pitch certain to take down the walls of Jericho. I was astounded. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or run screaming from the church. I looked around at the faces of the guests sure to see shock and pain registered there. There was none. Instead I saw only blank faces looking to far off places, as if this was a place they had been before and knew well. They did not seem to be enjoying it, but rather endured it quietly. After four different groups of women offered the same inharmonious chant, they were done, and my ears were left ringing with the memory.

After the womens groups the vows were exchanged, rings given, and the unity declared. The obligatory smooch sealed the pact and the new couple shuffled shyly out into the night amidst a shower of rice.

Outside a canopy had been erected and the guests were quickly ushered to new seats and food was laid out. The plates were heaped with six potatoes, corn, and about half a chicken. There was no champagne, but plenty of fizzy drinks around. After the carb load there was cake to be had and then my first Ecuadorian wedding was complete.