The journey from the Church to the reception was smooth. Jeff is a good driver and anticipates that actions of others. He would make a great Road Seller, but unlike them Jeff is educated. I value education and have been on a great learning journey throughout my life. I did not excel at school, but I did receive an award aged 16 for the best achievement in terms of what was expected and what was achieved. My peers and I were expected to average 1 Ordinary Level each. I got 5 and 3 CSE Grade II's. A massive score and I received a cup at the school assembly. My achievements were driven by the behaviour of another person. The Careers officer had told me that I needed to get five O levels, and that this was not possible. In the words of Michael Appiah, I kept hope alive and broke the myth. This is what has always driven me to better things. Jeff seems to have the same energy and determination. Like Michael and the Amissah family, they also value education. Mrs 'G' values education as well.
The reception takes place in a grand hall of two storey's in height, with gaps amongst the block work and no nets. I ask about the Mosquito's. "There are none around here" Nigel replies, "Okay" I say. Okay is a Ghanaian thing, I'm learning fast. We sit at tables with six seats. they are nicely decorated with a name plate in the middle. No one sits at the 'Justice' table, but I grab the 'Passion' one. Jeff and Tamara join me, but not before Nigel makes his way across.
The Bride and Groom arrive and the MC draws our attention and we clap and cheer. They take their seats on the podium. A stage about four foot higher than the floor of the hall. I smile and wave, they smile back. The MC uses a microphone and those that are asked to speak do the same. A profile of a person is read out and he is announced as the Chairperson for the Reception. He joins the happy couple and sits at their table. Everyone claps, even me, well he does seem like a nice chap. Another profile is read out, "A fine CV" comments Jeff. I'm not really interested, I am smiling at Mr and Mrs Appiah. They are smiling back from their table on the stage and then the words hit home, the MC is talking about me. It's English, but it is also African. The structure and emphasis is different, the words are kinder and more generous. Jeff beckons me to stand, I stand, I smile and I wave. "What are you doing says Jeff, you're spoiling it. Get going, you have to join them on the stage". 200 people clap and I move swiftly to join my other friends. The clapping continues, I'm humbled again.
The speeches are good, the microphone is not. I am asked to make a speech, but I have none prepared. 400 eyes look at me, there is silence. I grab the microphone and bid them good afternoon in Welsh and then explain. I'm Welsh, I am not English. England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland came together to form a Union. I see Patricia's and Michaels Wedding as a Union. A coming together of two great families. I explain that they have honoured me as a special guest, but that I am not special. "Each of you are special", I tell them. Because your families came together and you have attended this grand event to support Michael and Patricia. I explain that I am saddened that some stayed away, but ask those that are present to join me in a round of applause for the happy couple.
No sooner than I sit and we are beckoned to take some food. We leave the stage and approach the caterers. This is a grand affair, the food runs the whole length of one of the walls of this great hall and there must be seven or eight people serving. I go for rice, rice, and rice. Not any old rice, and none of it is the same. The very spicy brown rice is my favourite, especially with some Shitdo. But not too much unless you have a good supply of water. I ask Jeff what the pie thing is, he replies "chicken". I look again and realise that he is right. Jeff's always right. There's pasta and some sauces that I would have tried but my plate was looking full. I asked for a white thing, the person next to me and the person serving looked surprised. "Are you sure?" "Yes" I said. "Break him some off" came the reply, "just in case he doesn't like it". He did. It wasn't potato and it wasn't yam. It may have been based on maize, but I'm not African so I don't know. It tasted good, and didn't need the Shitdo. I walked back to the table clutching my plastic knife and fork. Well there were no finger bowls and everyone else was doing the same. The problem was, I forgot that we had silver cutlery on the top table. Everyone laughed, so did I. Things are different in Africa, but not alien. The Wedding presents are deposited on the 'Gift Table' which is attended by two appointees. They ask you to sign a gift register and then hand you a personalised thank you card. The gifts are not opened in front of the guests. They are opened in the evening, the next day or after the Honeymoon. This is different and may seem strange. But when comparing to European behaviour we must recognise that opening the gifts in private prevents any embarrassment. Guests are not clocked when placing a gift on the table or walking past. No one really knows who placed what, if anything. There is no competition and no disappointment. This is Africa, there is a lot of poverty and who would want a friend to stay away (or feel that they should stay away or feel less of themselves if they attended) just because they can't afford a gift? The true gift is being there for the couple, and not the value of the physical item.
Last night, Patricia's traditional wedding dress made from Indian silk shimmered. Today my food did. The table was sprinkled with Glitter. Not 'Gary', but the tiny sparkly stuff that my daughters apply with their make up. The ceiling fans were spinning and the white guy was glad. The sprinkles drifted in the air, my chicken sparkled. It didn't matter, they caught the light and there were only a few. Anyway, I now looked pretty, and even the Maid of Honour took an interest. Far better than last night, when I caught her in the kitchen eating and holding two plates of food. She assured me that she only had one, and the other was her Mothers. But Alice told me different. I must admit Alice and the other Bridesmaid also shimmered. I hadn't had any alcohol, this was the educated tribe. They are good stock and Michael knows how lucky he is. The second plate of food did not belong to Josephine, Alice had caught on; I like a tease.
He stood and delivered his speach like a politician. There was heckling, but not from his European friend. I listened carefully, especially when he orchestrated the ending with the care of a preacher. Michael asked us; who would have thought that when his brothers and sisters were shipped as slave's, that one day a Black man would be elected as the Presidential Candidate for a major party in the States. He gave years and dates, forty two years since so and so, forty years since this and that. His audience were listening, the heckling was subdued. He concluded, that his Wedding had been planned for over a year, and in the same year as the monumental success of his kin, he would also marry his bride. 2008, an African date to be remembered, and Michael Appiah had made his first contribution towards his destiny. The party ended, Mr and Mrs Appiah stood and the guests made a line to venture forward and shake their hands. All 200 of them and my journey had almost come to an end.
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