They just don’t make traditional Cape Malay weddings the way they used to. They can’t! Not only would they cost a small fortune but they would almost certainly be COVID super spreader events. But oh, they were wonderful, remembers Gasant Abarder in a new #SliceofGasant.
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here, exclusive to Cape {town} Etc.
‘May your marriage be modern enough to withstand the challenges of the times we live in. But traditional enough to remember the values that makes a marriage work,’ said a wise man once, whose name I don’t remember, a few decades ago in a couple’s bedroom on the night of their wedding.
What the heck was I doing in their bedroom, or the bruidskamer, on their wedding night you may ask? I wasn’t even family! As many who could squeeze in filled up their bedroom to hear the sage advice. This was the norm more than 30 years ago after a traditional Cape Malay wedding.
Growing up, there were few occasions quite as memorable. An event like this saw the bride and groom relegated to the background while the families went about the business of planning the event of the year. The couple getting married had little say about their own big day.
It wasn’t unheard of for each of the two receptions – one each for the groom and bride – to have 800 guests all told (if you counted uninvited guests and hangers-on). Magically, there was enough for everyone and a barakat (a doggy bag) to boot!
Attending my niece’s wedding on the public holiday last week, reminded me about traditional Cape Malay weddings when I was growing up almost 35 years ago. Many of these traditions have been done away with. My niece Rafeeqah’s wedding to Fawwaz had 30 guests in a beautiful and intimate occasion – partly due to COVID-19 restrictions.
But many moons ago, these were epic events planned for many months in advance. Everything was a kanala job (a colloquial phrase for a freebie service) and the full array of the artisanal skills of the Cape Malay slave descendent community came to the fore. From the aunty who takes many months to painstakingly bead the wedding dress to the other aunty who makes the elaborate headdress for the bride, called the medowra.
The uncles would have put in many hours until the last minute to make the bruidskamer perfect with little to no input from the bride or groom. The parents back then paid for everything and so this was part of their gift.
It was not unheard of for the wedding retinue to be 32-strong, including the bridal couple. The day itself would stretch over 12 hours and would be a blur of driving between photo shoots at the Cape Town Botanical Gardens, wedding receptions and then the bruidskamer.
The couple had no say about their reception either. The rectangular table tops called bladde were supported by trestles called bokkies, with and benches called bankies for seating. They would fill massive civic centres with the stage reserved for the couple and their large retinue.
Each table was covered with a simple newsprint paper (the roll usually procured by the uncle who worked for the newspaper company). Each table had a floral centerpiece which was written off because one of the aunties would inevitably take it home as a souvenir.
These receptions were so large that the folks seated at the front would be leaving already by the time those at the rear of the hall were served. It was often a meal of curry and rice or breyani or oven roasted chicken. Each guest would receive a glass bottle of Bashews and there was a little takeaway serving of Gatti’s ice cream and sickly sweet tea for desert.
No matter how hard you’d try there would always be whispered complaints from the guests.
“The tea was cold.”
“The breyani was dry.”
“The chicken wasn’t seasoned properly.”
At Rafeeqah and Fawwaz’s reception there were no such complaints. The couple planned everything to perfection and in consultation with their parents. Because it was so small, they had time to linger and enjoy the time with their guests. It was a wonderful occasion – all wrapped up in 90 minutes – with contemporary music.
Back then, the music would have been out of their hands too. Families insisted on Caravans by Mike Batt when walking into their reception. And no one was going to tell the uncle situated close to the mic that he couldn’t do a bad rendition of an Engelbert Humperdinck song or the Cape Malay choir favourite ‘Rosa’.
How the times have changed. But it’s not all bad (especially since the uncles can no longer burst into song!).
I’ve lived by that wise man’s words throughout my life and it works. Modern enough to keep an open mind. Traditional enough to burst into Engelbert’s ‘Please Release Me’ when the need arises.
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Pictures: Supplied