The Wedding Must Go on 27/12/14 Five thousand had been invited so the wedding reception needed to happen. For most of the day it had been raining and strong storms came in during the afternoon bringing the customary floods to the area. We were two of the five thousand who were invited to this wedding reception in an Islamic School in the middle of kampung in Surabaya. It was the day after Christmas, and the official ceremony had occurred on Christmas Day in a Mosque somewhere else. We hardly knew the groom and wondered how come we had been invited. My husband remembered meeting him twice. Sudin, who lives with us, knows him but had not been invited. It was difficulty getting ready to go as the electricity chose to go off and we were lighting candles to see our clothes and especially for me, I needed light to see to put my head gear on. For this event, I knew, it was a must. Not one hair of my light blond mop should be seen. The electricity going off was more of an issue than we knew at the time as major lines go through the trees in our front yard and the mango tree played with a line and somehow made it drop. Finally we set off in the dark and got lost. Now normally getting lost is not a pleasurable thing to have happen. But I believe it was fortuitous although we knew that not at the time. We made a few wrong turns (the first my husbands fault, the second, my fault) so my dear husband had to keep on asking the way. At one spot we were going through flood waters that had been deeper and we needed to wait for a lady to take a big pot plant out of the way which was being used to block the road...Hume also got out a little further on to take away a chair that was also being used to block the road. We did finally find the correct street (the one I had thought we should be on in the first place and a street we had been on and parked on, many times before). We had to park where we were told which was quite a distance from the venue....and I thought of my poor toes in their high healed sandals...but for the sake of feet looking good, I left them on. I did have a pair of lower, every day sandals (thongs) in the car. We walked a few steps and met up with a friend. We were not expecting to know anyone. He told us to wait with him as the group coming with him were with the cars which were being parked a further distance than we were. The group included his step mum who I know, so that made me happy. (I was unaware at this point that I needed a friend and someone to look after me...one was provided for me before I knew I needed her). My feet grew very tired...as we stood. There were no seats around. Finally one group arrived...and we continued to wait for the other, but the first group included my friend, Bu Nyai (which is a term given to the wife of a Kyai, although my friends husband has now passed away. He had been a very, very dear friend of ours.) We were able to chatter on about diabetes and diet and exercise. Finally the other group arrived and we continued on our way. We arrived at our destination almost desiring to immediately turn around and go back. It was flooded!! The group we were with had come from Madura so there was no way they were going home immediately but we all hesitated and I took out my camera to photograph other people walking through the flooded waters of the venue. My husband was the only man with shoes on. He had to take them off, and his socks and roll up his pants. I just needed to hitch my long skirt up, and finally, very bravely, we entered. Men one way, women another. My husband disappeared with a whole lot of Kyai to higher ground while I was led by the hand by Bu Nyai, and with the other ladies we found some chairs that seemed a little above the level of the waters. We sat, we waited. The food was not being served and gradually the MC tells us to be patient and sometime soon they will have the music, dancing on stage and the food out and serving. It was interesting to sit down and have few, if any, know that I was a foreign white woman, excepting the group I was with. I was there incognito...totally blending in. I enjoyed examining the beautiful Islamic clothes on show as well as some very interesting faces. The music began and all chatting ceased. Finally we noticed the food coming out and being set up under signs that told us to enjoy ourselves. The place by this stage had filled up and the waters had gone down only leaving large puddles. Finally when the majority of the crowd had got their food, we followed suit. I was still led by the hand...but went to discover other food than the mie and bakso. I found some soto (like a soup), and perhaps it was chicken, perhaps beef, but I do think it was soto Madura, and rice. Indonesians prefer what I consider, the inedible parts of the animal. Finally after eating we thought it was about time to go. Bu Nyai rings her step son who tells my husband that we are ready to go, and that I would like to meet and greet the bride and groom. I was led by Bu Nyai to meet the mother of the groom and then to my husband, and then the greet, meet and photo shoot. On our way out of the now less flooded venue we met our dear friend Thobib who was coming at a better time, a couple of hours late and he didnt have to get his feet wet if he looked carefully where he was going. The electricity was back on when we arrived home, but the trees will need cutting.
Posted on: Sat, 27 Dec 2014 02:23:01 +0000