With 34, my best Indonesian friend was, according to Indonesian standards, far too old to be getting married.In the time I have known her, she had been very open about the fact that her parents did not think their sixth daughter would tie the knot ... that was until she came home with an American.
Very quickly the courtship phase moved into the marriage phase. A Javanese engagement is full of rituals. Beginning with an official proposal in the Kampung.
Very quickly the courtship phase moved into the marriage phase. A Javanese engagement is full of rituals. Beginning with an official proposal in the Kampung.
This happened straight after Eid. We went to her parent’s house, together with some other bule´s. She had told us it was for a lunch. In the back of the car there were baskets of fruit, flowers and other things.
We walked through her neighbourhood in a procession, attracting quite a bit of attention. At her house we were greeted by her parents and five of her six sisters, their husbands and children.
It was only then that I realised we were there to represent the future groom´s missing family, they of course could not be there. We had to sit in a row in front of the almost bride and her family.
She looked very pretty, her hair in a French role, and dressed in beautiful white kebaya a flower in her hair.
Everyone was quiet. Then her father asked the groom what he was doing here, he was not only here to eat, right? We were a little shocked by his unIndonesian directness. So was the groom, who replied nervously that he wanted to marry his daughter.
The fiancé’s father set some rules: No ill-treatment, converting to Islam and with a smile on his face: no second wife. No one even dared to laugh.
The groom thought for a minute and agreed. The father proudly looked at his guests. His last daughter was going to get married. And then one of bride-to-be nieces loudly demanded to know if the bride had anything to say. Did she agree?
All heads turned in her direction. Tears fell from her face. “I don’t know, I want to think about it. This time the silence was deafening. The 'family–in-law' was in shock. The groom looked to the ground.
“How long do you need to think about it?” asked her father, a little unsure himself.
A tear fell.
And another one.
The clock was ticking. Suddenly the groom jumped up. He took a small box from his pocket. "Maybe this helps?" He put the ring on her finger.
And she? She said 'yes' with a sniff and one of her beautiful smiles.
Everybody looked relieved. The father resumed his proud post and decided upon the date. A Saturday in November. And after that, finally, we had lunch.
Was all of this Javanese drama? The doubt? The crying? I asked the bride later. A little bit, she said. But she also felt her father gave her away too easily. She expected him to give her boyfriend a harder time, in the end she is the last of seven daughters to get married.
But to cancel a wedding because of that? No, even for this Javanese princess that would be too dramatic.
This is a liberal translation of the Dutch column ´huwelijkse rituelen´, that was published in newspapers affiliated with the GPD.
With help from Katie Hamann it was translated and transformed into a wedding speech.
The bride and groom are happily married; their wedding was a great gathering with beautiful people.
We walked through her neighbourhood in a procession, attracting quite a bit of attention. At her house we were greeted by her parents and five of her six sisters, their husbands and children.
It was only then that I realised we were there to represent the future groom´s missing family, they of course could not be there. We had to sit in a row in front of the almost bride and her family.
She looked very pretty, her hair in a French role, and dressed in beautiful white kebaya a flower in her hair.
Everyone was quiet. Then her father asked the groom what he was doing here, he was not only here to eat, right? We were a little shocked by his unIndonesian directness. So was the groom, who replied nervously that he wanted to marry his daughter.
The fiancé’s father set some rules: No ill-treatment, converting to Islam and with a smile on his face: no second wife. No one even dared to laugh.
The groom thought for a minute and agreed. The father proudly looked at his guests. His last daughter was going to get married. And then one of bride-to-be nieces loudly demanded to know if the bride had anything to say. Did she agree?
All heads turned in her direction. Tears fell from her face. “I don’t know, I want to think about it. This time the silence was deafening. The 'family–in-law' was in shock. The groom looked to the ground.
“How long do you need to think about it?” asked her father, a little unsure himself.
A tear fell.
And another one.
The clock was ticking. Suddenly the groom jumped up. He took a small box from his pocket. "Maybe this helps?" He put the ring on her finger.
And she? She said 'yes' with a sniff and one of her beautiful smiles.
Everybody looked relieved. The father resumed his proud post and decided upon the date. A Saturday in November. And after that, finally, we had lunch.
Was all of this Javanese drama? The doubt? The crying? I asked the bride later. A little bit, she said. But she also felt her father gave her away too easily. She expected him to give her boyfriend a harder time, in the end she is the last of seven daughters to get married.
But to cancel a wedding because of that? No, even for this Javanese princess that would be too dramatic.
This is a liberal translation of the Dutch column ´huwelijkse rituelen´, that was published in newspapers affiliated with the GPD.
With help from Katie Hamann it was translated and transformed into a wedding speech.
The bride and groom are happily married; their wedding was a great gathering with beautiful people.
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