Weddings and Madness

Weddings and madness aren’t typically two subjects one thinks of as going hand in hand, but my first invitation to a wedding also was my first glimpse into mental illness in my village. In Butare, mental illness was more apparent because the presence of rich foreigners allowed for a population to subsist on begging alone. In the more rural areas, communities generally band together to support those who cannot support themselves, removing such persons from the public eye.

In Rwanda, there are typically three “weddings”: the civil ceremony, the church ceremony, and the party. The couple getting married had actually been married (with kids) in the eyes of the Rwandese government for several years, but it takes a lot of money to pull off the party, so they waited until there were able to afford it. The party was held outside their house, between the banana trees and under a tarp that had been erected for the occasion. Underneath these tarps, wooden benches were set up, which we all crowded onto to wait for the bride and groom. After the church ceremony, the family processed back to the house (many of the family members carried gifts of food or drink on their heads as they walked), with the bride and groom bringing up the rear. The bride, as is common of brides in Rwanda, wore a gown that looked as though it came straight out of the 80s, with huge bubble sleeves and all. The party itself, once the bride and groom arrived, consisted of drinking (Fanta, Mutzig, and locally made banana beer), eating (rice, French fries, beans, and meat) and many, many speeches.

Throughout all of this, a mad woman had made herself at home on one of the benches, and insisted on greeting everyone with huge slaps and generally dancing around and causing a ruckus. In America, not only would she have been institutionalized, but even if she had been present at such an event, she would surely have been ignored by the guests. Here, however, she was smiled upon and given a plate of food. The only time she was talked to crossly at all was when she was told “not to bother the muzungus” (aka us.) For the most part, though, so she was simply allowed to be who she was and join in the festivities as she saw fit.