(Zambian) Wedding Crashers

MUNGULE, Zambia—Out comes the “knife girl” amidst ferocious applause! Why have a flower girl when you can arm a pre-pubescent girl with a large carving knife instead?

She dances down the aisle in pink jeans and a tank top with a crew of back-up dancers in shiny purple taffeta. At the end of the aisle is a large, white-frosted wedding cake waiting to be sliced. The only aim the “knife girl” has is to make it down the aisle towards the cake and garner as much applause and money as possible. According to tradition, people are supposed to sprinkle money near the “knife girl”—proceeds for the wedding party.

I sit about three rows back from all this in a plastic lawn chair. Alongside me is the village pastor who insisted on bringing me along despite the fact that I most certainly was not invited. This is the first wedding I’ve ever crashed, and unlike Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson I do not have a set protocol for these things, or a convenient way to blend in.

The only wedding I thought I would be attending this summer was my brother’s, due to take place in a Long Island wedding hall in early August. I have watched the wedding unfold into a yearlong saga of Facebook status updates, save-the-dates, bridesmaid dresses, and wedding registries. This has given me time to anticipate the moment and all that it might hold, both good and bad.

This wedding, in contrast, I had only learned about an hour ago. I hadn’t had time to anticipate anything, buy a gift, or even get dressed. But, having left my overanxious tendencies back in America, I was having a pretty great time.

Americans dispel stress by planning. We plan for the worst-case scenario, no matter how unlikely. “Does the wedding hall have flood insurance in the one in a million chance Long Island gets a hurricane in early August?” we ask. And, of course, it does.

Zambians dispel stress by refusing to worry. The wedding that I attended that day was supposed to start at 2PM. I showed up at 4PM and finally watched the bride walk down the aisle a little after 5PM. And it went very well. All the close friends and family waited patiently, knowing it was an important day, and the bride and groom were successfully, thrillingly married.

I’m in danger of some extreme, anthropologically-incorrect overgeneralizing in those previous paragraphs. I’m sure there was a lot of planning that went on behind-the-scenes of the Zambian wedding (I mean, look at that choreography!). I also think Americans are more than capable of dealing with delayed weddings, after all, it’s been the staple plotline of American sit-com finales for decades. I think the real difference I noted was the attitude Zambians had in dealing with last-minute mishaps.

When a close friend or family friend is experiencing one of the most important moments of their lives, it doesn’t really matter if the steak is overcooked, or if the great uncle is drunk, or the wedding starts late. So much good will has been invested in the moment, that it is the obligation of those who have the honor of attending to return that investment of good will. We can all afford to live a little more in the moment.

At an American wedding no one would ever give a seven year-old a long, sharp knife and tell her to dance down the aisle. (Think of all the worst-case scenarios there.) But maybe we can learn to approach life this way— childish smiles on our faces, only the goal of enjoying the present moment, dancing towards our destination.