Shawl maintenance by Kiran's mizes

I change into my hand-woven cotton wedding dress behind a small sheet held up as a curtain to shield me from the seventy or so people in the house. First the dress, then shash (black turban headdress), then net'ella (shawl). I am draped in white.

All around me my girl friends are singing, chanting, drumming to wedding songs. I clap my hands and join in the singing, until I am told that if this were the real thing, I would actually be very sad. It is the first time I will ever leave my family, and to a man I have probably never met. My face grows serious, but my feet can't help tapping.

We are waiting. My mizes (mee-ZAYs), or bridesmaids, are straightening and re-straightening my shawl, pulling it lower over my face, suggesting that I hold it together with my teeth. They open and close my traditional agiya (elaborate umbrella, being substituted today for a tella or regular umbrella) nervously. The agiya is one of the items which I must present to my new husband's family. If I cannot provide these gifts, I must hide in shame from them, in their house, until I can afford to buy them. We wait more long minutes for the groom to arrive.

As the groom I spend my morning paying respects to my adoptive Abba (father). He lives in a traditional tukul or sera beat. When I arrive I greet him by kissing each of his shoulders. My mize (like best men) are gathered here to help me fetch my bride. In the past they would have helped overcome any resistance from the bride's family. Today they are drinking katikala and practising the wedding songs. Abba points to a mattress on the floor. Through translation and sign language I realize he's telling me that this is my wedding bed. I wonder how far he thinks we'll take this ceremony.

There are about 20 people from the village and they are singing and dancing in a circle. My mizes lead them on and eventually drag me into the circle. I do my best to dance Gurage style surrounded by guttural chants and stamping feet. They sing (I'm told) about my great status in the community and my legendary acts of bravery, to get my courage up. After nearly collapsing I take a break to get dressed. I wear a long shirt, riding pants, a wide brimmed hat and a long shawl (gabi), all in white. In my hand I carry the horse tail chera.

When I'm dressed and ready I climb up on a mule that has been saddled for me. There is another mule for Kiran. Both mules are covered with ceremonial blankets. My number one mize, Daniel, leads my mule through the village blowing a simple brass trumpet. The other singers and family crowd around playing drums and chanting "Ai-lo-ga, ai-lo-gah-o" over and over. When we get to Kiran's house we are met by her mize at the door. They refuse to let us in. They sing about Kiran's virtues and my faults. They sing that I should go home or sleep outside and that Kiran is much too good for me. My mizes respond by singing that if I don't marry Kiran, then nobody will. They sing that Kiran is lucky that I'm interested. I smile and wave the chera around, surrounded by the chaos of singers, drums and trumpet. Traditionally this song duel could stretch for hours. Since the villagers don't know too many of my heroic deeds the duel only lasts a few minutes. Then Kiran's mizes let us in.

I am shuffled over to the far corner and it takes me a second to realize that Kiran is in the opposite corner completely covered by her shawl. First I sit with Daniel behind a long table. Kiran's mizes bring plates of kocho and cabbage kitfo and place them in front of us. My mizes stand and I do the same. We tell the ladies that we won't eat. They hassle us saying "Why, are you too good to eat our food? What's the matter with it?" etc. We reply that we won't eat until they bring Kiran to me. After a while of arguing like this I pass the test and Kiran is brought to sit with me.