Traditional Malagasy Wedding

Way back in December, before Christmas actually, I was invited to a Malagasy wedding. These kinds of events are always an interesting contrast compared to what we Americans often imagine and believe a wedding to be, so let me tell you about it.

Unlike contemporary Western weddings which are now poor recreations of Christian weddings with the addition and influence of a strange consumerism and party culture of the United States, the Malagasy traditional wedding is a paradoxical blend of simplicity and grand theatrics. The simplicity manifests itself in the décor and in the guest list. Usually it’s family but can also be friends, even strangers (such as myself and my fellow Americans who attended). There are flowers, white tablecloths, and whatever you would expect to find. But there isn’t any extravagance, not even in the dress of the guests. The bride, however, is always a magnificent sight. In the traditional wedding, she is not required to wear white. This gives the bride quite a bit of freedom in color schemes. In fact, of all the weddings I’ve been to in the country, only once did the bride wear white, and that was at a traditional Christian wedding with no Malagasy elements. Nonetheless, that wedding also included a baptism. I guess there was a sale on sacraments. A “get married and have your kid cleansed of Original Sin and brough into the fold of the universal church” kind of thing. Regardless, the same goes for the groom’s dress code. Now how the color scheme is decided is beyond my knowledge, and I never thought to ask. Although I’m sure it is a decision of the bride with a representative of the groom who, despite being present and having the right to speak, does not have a vote in the matter.

On the other hand, the ceremony itself is extremely complex. It’s going to be a long one, so strap in, my friend. This is how it went. In normal Malagasy fashion, the wedding began two and a half hours late. Apparently this can sometimes be part of the drama and theatrical side of the wedding. That is, the bride is late, and the groom’s family starts to complain and tell the groom that they’re done. The groom then expresses his fidelity and determination to marry the bride by telling his family that they can leave but that he fully intends to stay. Nonetheless, the delay at the wedding I attended did not include this theatrical and dramatic outburst. Rather, the bride was just late which caused the extreme delay.

More or less, the entire ceremony is a test of the man’s love for the woman (in one point of view). This is the central theme of the wedding, and every part of the ceremony returns to this reference point. That is, the groom must prove to the woman’s family that he is worthy to receive her and to take her from their home. Mind you, the bride and groom rarely have lines in the ceremony. In fact, nearly the entire ceremony is conducted by a team of what the Malagasy call the mpikabary (pronounced “pee-kah-bah-ree”). This comes from the word, kabary, which is a type of dramatic speech or recitation of poetry, an ancient Malagasy tradition. The name mpikabary means “the one who gives the speech”. I, however, took the liberty of translation to translate mpikabary to “this guy” and “that guy”. Henceforth, I will refer to them as this guy and that guy.

Anyways, each side of the marriage has at least one this guy to represent them. At this particular wedding, the groom’s side had one this guy whereas the bride had a this guy and a that guy. At the beginning of the ceremony, the bride’s family already occupies the ceremony’s sanctuary. At the entrance, the bride’s this guy and that guy await the groom’s family. The ceremony begins when the groom’s family approaches the entrance to the sanctuary when the bride’s this guy demands to know why they are there, as if the whole bride’s family wasn’t already there and dressed for the occasion. The groom’s this guy then speaks for the family. There is quite a lot of back and forth between this guy and that guy, most of which I didn’t understand. Nonetheless, I did understand the excessive use of polite terms and phrases. I really couldn’t tell if they were using these passive aggressively or if it was simply the art of the kabary. I’m inclined to believe the latter as the rest of the ceremony would prove to be an incredibly theatrical performance filled to the brim with symbolism and metaphors. There was an exchange of papers between this guy and that guy before we were all welcomed into the sanctuary where, as I mentioned, the bride’s family was already waiting impatiently.

Now is a good time to explain that one of the hypocritical things about Malagasy culture is the concept of the kabary itself. Malagasy LOVE giving long speeches. If there’s an opportunity to give one, they’ll seize it. At any and every event, there is always a long series of people who give, more or less, the same speech. This pattern is consistent across all cultural gatherings. Even in many of the Westernized ceremonies and celebrations, this tradition of karbary after kabary persists, just like the delivery of the kabary itself, indefinitely. Ironically, and to my great and selfish amusement and satisfaction, Malagasy HATE listening to long speeches. They’ll sit there and listen, but they’re totally zoned out after a while. During each kabary, which is usually the same kabary as the one before it, just worded slightly differently, Malagasy sit patiently although it’s clear that there is a growing agitation underneath the stoic postures of crossed arms and straight backs. It’s one of the funniest dynamics ever. We have similar things in the United States, such as when I told you that Americans love to be generous but hate being on the receiving side of charity. It’s just one of those paradoxical and hypocritical things that every culture has in its own way.

Mind you, the kabary at the weddings are very different than those given at other events. Whereas the kabary at other celebrations are usually about thanksgiving, condolences, or felicitations (which us Americans express usually in the form of a card containing words of love or a funny little inside joke), the kabary given by this guy and that guy at a traditional Malagasy wedding are steeped in symbolism, metaphors, and so many other poetic devices that make me wish I knew more Malagasy. Indeed, although the tradition of kabary lives on in bland and unnecessary speeches, the true art of kabary is extremely difficult to learn, master, and deliver. There is a certain grammar used, certain metaphors, certain phrases, and even certain patterns of speaking. Thus, I have a great respect for this guy and that guy who, amazingly, completed the entire 2-hour ceremony without stumbling, flinching, mumbling, misspeaking, taking a sip of water, or missing a single cue. I sat near the groom’s this guy, and I could see his hand shaking the entire time as if he were going to piss himself. Everything about the wedding hinged on this young man’s ability to say the right words, at the right time, in the right way. Absolutely baller. However many hours they practiced beforehand to deliver such a perfect execution of oral mastery is beyond me. Nevertheless, I should get back to the wedding.

After the groom’s family is permitted to the ceremony’s sanctuary, the real drama of the wedding begins, as if not being allowed into he sanctuary wasn’t enough of a dramatic beginning. As I mentioned before, the entire wedding, more or less, is a challenge of the bride’s family to the groom himself to test his loyalty. To do this, this guy bombards the groom with questions and suspicions, all the while praising the value and beauty of the bride. Most of the time that guy, who represents the groom, gives the response, which is typically followed by a gesture, action, or a quick response of the groom. Throughout the ceremony, the groom must prove his worthiness to different members of the bride’s family. Sometimes this is done through professing his love. Other family members he is allowed to literally pay off. And still, other family members have riddles or other tests for him. This whole process is rather entertaining to watch, if one knows what is going on and can catch a few words here and there.

I should note, however, that the traditional Malagasy wedding practice, this whole proof of merit, is rather controversial for many young Malagasy women who view the ceremony as nothing more than the bride’s family selling her off to the groom for a price. Under the influence of Western feminism, these, again, often young women, condemn the tradition as a remnant of the sexist and patriarchal society that dominated Madagascar since its colonization by the first Malagasy over a millennia ago, and which persists today in the heavily male-dominated mindset of the average Malagasy. I find it interesting that I can usually tell someone’s opinion on the matter by the way they explain the ceremony procedures. Those who hold this feminist view often call it “bargaining” because they view the whole ordeal as a commercial action between the bride’s family and the groom to acquire the woman as if she were some kind of property. On the other hand, more traditional Malagasy will call it a “challenge” one that proves the groom’s fidelity and worth, a kind of long, drawn out, extensive, exhausting, and theatrical drama of asking the woman’s father for his blessing and permission. I honestly don’t have much of an opinion on the matter. As a Catholic, I believe that marriage is a holy and sacramental bond made between a man and woman in the presence of God who consecrates their love with His blessing and grace such that they cease to be two individuals and become, truly, one flesh, inseparable until death. But that’s just me.

Anyways, this process of “bargaining” or “challenging” went on for more than two hours. The whole time, mind you, the bride is nowhere to be found. It is literally this guy barraging the groom with quips and questions. At one point, this guy steps out to the doorway where he looks around and says he can’t see the bride and that the groom will have to go find her. So, the groom leaves for about five minutes and returns to with bride in hand. This is after nearly an hour and forty-five minutes of ceremony. They take a central position at the head table together where it is now her turn to answer significantly fewer questions.

Essentially, she’s asked the same question twice, once by this guy, and once by that guy. This guy asks her, “Do you love him?”

“I do. I love him,” she responds.

Then that guy asks, “Do you truly love him?”

“I do. I truly love him,” she says, tearing up and beginning to cry at this point.

The tears streaming down the bride's face were good enough, I guess, because suddenly there was a basket of flowers placed on the table where the bride and groom had to go searching for the rings before placing them on each other’s fingers. This technically ended the traditional part of the wedding. There was a quick rearrangement of a table before the civil government representative came in and conducted a civil ceremony that bounded them in marriage under Malagasy law. Following the civil ceremony were appetizers and juices, which, despite having sat there in the open for 4 and a half hours, were consumed within minutes. Everyone sat down, and the women of the bride’s family then brough “lunch” out to everyone. I’ll let you guess what it was. Yeah, it was rice, and some chicken and pork, and a few other little things. We didn’t stay long because we had another event to attend, but usually what happens is after the long meal, which is long because of how slowly each dish is brought out, not because of the abundance of conversation, of which there was little, followed by some dancing. When the wedding actually ends is beyond me, I’ve never actually stayed to the end of a Malagasy event like this, mostly because it would be way past my bedtime.

And there you have it, that is a traditional Malagasy wedding, an event that, unless it is for a very close friend, I will never attend again. It’s one of those things that unless you really know the person, you don’t really need to see more than once. Mind you, the incredible length of this wedding ceremony can be extended depending on whether they add more parts. For example, there is one traditional where the bride’s family sends multiple women, one after another, who claim to be the bride. The groom has to publicly declare, for each woman, that this is not his intended bride. Feminists claim it to be a sexist tradition where the groom is picking the creme de la crème whereas traditionalists claim that the ceremony is a public display of the groom’s fidelity and desire to be with only his true bride. Crazy how the same thing has so many interpretations.

Regardless, it makes me think about American weddings. I’ve been to quite a few in my day, and at my age, it is certain that I will attend many more in the coming years. I genuinely love weddings. It may not seem like it, but I’m a bit of a softy when it comes to weddings. Both weddings where I’ve been a groomsman, I’ve teared up, and I’m not ashamed of that at all. Love is a beautiful thing. It is an action, an emotion, a state of being, and above all else, a sacrifice. Love is so powerful and divine that we humans literally cannot describe it in words but must rely on symbols that manifest the deeper and truer meaning of the word. I think it’s pretty neat.

As always, know that you are in my prayers every morning. All I ask is that you do the same for me.

May God be praised.