Finally, the event announced since I arrived
came, the wedding of the leader & the co-leader.
Two days before, we even had a 'hen party' (The
perversion of language never will end up of surprising me...). The typical
games of toilet paper bride dresses among others reminded me once again that
marriage is not for me (I remit you again to the Nina Simone's song) and that
the Western (well, probably worldwide) idea of what is feminine needs an urgent
review. Sigh. Anyway, people seemed to enjoy it, specially the bride and that's
the important point, plus everyone should do whatever makes her/him happy (or
thinks that would), being the limits other people's freedom (the most simple
theories seem to be the hardest to become true), so don't let my analytical
habits to ruin you the party.
The Doomsday arrived (name that the
French-Spaniard used to use to joke with the groom). The couple and its family
and friends went to town to see if Home Affairs decided to marry or not (still
burocratic nightmares are to Africa what H to water).
In the mountain, however, we had other
business. After a morning drowned in the database of the monkeys, I went to
meet the Belgian at Wilderness; the main course of the wedding dinner had
arrived, a warthog.
The Owner and his son started to prepare the
corpse inside the 'roasting machine', while the Belgian and I tried to make
coals. Once everything was ready, our task was watching the machine so it
didn't stop rotating the hog and, each half an hour, change the coals if
necessary and poor some alcoholic mix on the meat so it didn't get dry. Given
that it takes 6h to cook, choosing the people that can spend 12h watching
monkeys seemed a logical resolution.
Around 15h, people had come back from town and
we were preparing things for the dinner. After, I went to get dress (I always
feel like a travestite when I have to wear skirts and related) leaving the
warthog on the Belgian's hands until I came back to replace her. Later she came back and I
could go for a while to the reception.
There I could taste, finally, the mopane worms.
With coating they are fine, no much flavor and slightly crunchy...without, they
don't look very yummy and is kind of difficult to chew the legs and hairs. I
could eat them on an emergency, but they are not my cup of tea.
After sunset and accompanied by a big orange
moon, we headed back to Wilderness in procession lighting our way with oil
lamps.
The dinner was amazing, a kind of buffet of
South African specialties: pap with tomato sauce, pumpkin balls, gems with
butter and sugar, babootie, and, of course, the warthog (though, unfortunately, was
a little bit dry, even if we followed all the instructions). The cake was
rather original.
And finally, dance and chat around the fire,
drinking Amarula and chewing some biltong on of the cliffs.
