My Haitian Wedding Experience

To sum it all up: The first hour I spent trying not to cry, the second hour I spent trying not to sleep, and the third hour I spent trying not to die laughing. And that was all during the ceremony alone.

Jack’s friend Chilet got married in the city of St. Marc. We were invited and despite losing the invitation along the way, found the Baptist church where the nuptials went down. We arrived a bit early and found the groom waiting in the entry way. I figured it would be a quick hello and congratulations but he pulled up a chair and had us sit down and chat away up until the wedding!

I had not anticipated attending a wedding or any other such event that would require anything but frumpy clothes. So I don’t have any. I assembled an “outfit” as best as I could knowing that despite what Jack said, what the woman wears is more important than what the man wears. I had a skirt and my best tank top. Yes, it was a tank top that showed my shoulders but it was very modest and very nicely embroidered.

Poor choice, unfortunately. The groom’s mother approached the groom saying that there was a problem—I had bare shoulders and could not be allowed to enter the church. Feeling badly, I ventured out into the market and bought a shawl.

A lot more people were beginning to show up at the church and there were ushers/bodyguards letting people in. Except me. Apparently I was not decent enough still. Now frustrated, I just had Jack buy a shirt for himself in the market that I then put on. Feeling like a bag lady, I attempted to enter the church again.

Jack made it through but I was singled out once again. The usher/bodyguard didn’t want to let me by and demanded I straighten my guy collar and button up all my buttons. I do and finally manage to grab a seat in the back of the church.

As I looked around I saw a number of woman and girls who had on lacy shirts or shawls to cover up bare shoulders. I felt picked on and too hot to suffer! So I took off the man shirt and put my shawl back on.

A few minutes later the usher/bodyguard/fashion police appears behind me and starts yelling/scolding me in Creole. I didn’t really understand him beyond the words “discipline” over and over again and “You are not a Christian!”

And so I spent the first hour of the wedding trying not to cry mostly because I was just so annoyed and pissed off at being harassed.

Then the second hour came. The entire wedding was in French. I had no idea what was going on. My butt hurt—the pews were hard. Choir number 5 was singing. Jack and I both were nodding off.

Hour three rolled around. By this time, I was convinced Jack hated me and was punishing me. I demanded to know why he was torturing me so! He insisted to Haitian wedding he had ever been to had ever been a fraction this long. After numerous choirs, talking, soloists, prayers, readings, the BEST soloist so far came on stage. He would have made the “Worst” in the American Idol audition clips. Singing acapella and completely off-key, I just about lost it. I couldn’t help it! After three hours and I had to sit through THIS!?

Oh, wedding photography was something to behold too. There were a couple of official wedding photographers and videographers. The video guy was constantly shining a really bright light right in the faces of the bride and groom. I don’t know how they didn’t get a migraine from that. Any time anything important began to happen, an entire mob of people swarmed the wedding couple at the front with their personal cameras—mainly disposable cameras. Very different from the “we do not want to know that the photographer is there” approach that is so prominent in the US.

Finally the wedding ended. The reception took place at the bride and grooms new home. Only a fraction of people who had attended the wedding were there. Some special wedding food was made and plates were assembled. Being the only whites in attendance we were the honored guests, despite not even knowing them well! We were given the best seats, plates of food, everyone wanted pictures with us including the bride and groom and complete strangers. No one touched the wedding cake though. The wedding couple left not long after and just about everybody emptied out. So Jack and I were the last to leave mostly because we were so bewildered.

We visited the newly married couple a few days later and were given cake then. Along with “cremase.” That to me is now akin to poison. It was basically condensed milk with sugar and rum—and I had to drink it warm! Ugh, if I think about it too long I will get nauseated all over again.