Pole dancing in the Northern Cape

My first Northern Captonian wedding, this Saturday 25th April at 4.30.
BRIDE? the last child to be married, of prominent local family… major landowners /farmers/ entrepreneurs, who have commanded our presence.
OUTLOOK..For it to be “the wedding of all weddings”.
STYLE.word on grape vine is ‘fairytale’.
Having never attended a Northern Capetonian wedding, I have no idea of “the form” on any level, and there is absolutely no sense in asking Bossy, as these things simply don’t register for him.
So, after short consideration, I made a decision of what NOT to wear:
No hat, no frock, no painted nails [either hand or toe],
No bling and no BIG hair ,as it never stays big enough for long enough, so no huge amounts of coiffing and certainly no hair spray.
I opted for very understated, black trousers and khaki [coloured] silk tunic…enlivened with silver jewelry, including the beautiful venetian glass heart with pearl pendant that Jane gave me, and a stonking pair of shoes that Jane also, encouraged me to buy in Oxford, last year. I have had only one occasion to wear them thus far, and they sit in the dressing room, beckoning me to pet them…Yikes!..I`m turning into Moses!

When they were tried on with the outfit …and worked!....Air punching [learned behavior from Little] took place in the privacy of the bathroom.
So, my chosen look for this” wedding of weddings”, will be minimalist.
The shoes make me so tall, that I even outstretch Bossy…which tickles me, and will put a spring in my step, and gird me for what I’m sure will be plenty of “interaction” with the combined forces of both Kak & UP wives……Joy of joys.
Thank goodness Both Marica and Magda will be attending.

*Note to self…..ON NO ACCOUNT TRIP OVER!*

Bossy and I missed the “Kirk” bit… we knew there would be around 250 guests, and the church holds a max 150,and there were far more people interested in attending that part , so we happily relinquished our places.

Moving Straight onto the Reception
An army, of around 200 friends and associates, of the bride & groom…..and as importantly, of their mothers and fathers.
A central core of around 50 cherished family members….including ancient grannies and grandpas, who were respectfully wheeled to the outer edges of the hall, to avoid being accidentally dragged onto the dance floor ,by over exuberant dancers,[and there were many], and whose deaf aids would not scream in competition with the best mans and the Grooms speech, which took place in the centre of the dance floor, in front of an exceptionaly high rise “top table”, that I thought on entry, was an alter!
The venue was “our English” equivalent of a large village hall, chosen, I imagine, on account of its cavernous space and most definitely not for its architectural beauty!.
At the main entrance and exit huge tents had been erected, one offering ready prepared “cocktails” in every colour of the rainbow, to arriving guests, along with all kinds of unusual nibbles ,the other providing overflow seating.

I was handed a turquoise cocktail in a martini glass, which tasted like a non iced slush puppy, mercifully not loaded with alcohol, but definitely with plenty adrenalin producing chemicals. Bossy was handed a radioactive green cocktail, and whilst these cocktails seemed to go down very well with all the other guests, Bossy and I struggled to navigate the fruits that had been impaled on the rim ,and then to swallow the concoctions contained therein. Taking a few polite sips and then discreetly losing them.

Some clever souls had decked the main hall, out [ceiling and walls] in meters and meters of white gauzy fabric with maroon coloured accents, so that it resembled the interior of a marquee…….. and it did!!!
Huge amounts of twinkly lights, plenty of greenery and some stunning raised flower displays, using fresh and very exotic south African flowers, really gave the feeling of a tented hall…quite fairytale like. The girlies of the wedding party were geared in chiffon, floaty dresses in shades of rust, and the bride was in white along with her bridesmaid’s. They all looked gorgeous. Lounge suits for the boys.[who mostly looked like they had put on a few pounds since they last wore them!]
The main area of the hall, has a wide [load bearing] column at its middle point, all the ceiling drapes were billowed upwards towards its centre ,and the column itself was twisted with roses and twinkly lights, and was to become a pivotal feature for the entire wedding.
The order of things is somewhat different to that of the English wedding, in that dancing was encouraged from the moment the Bride and Groom arrived [ app. an hour an half after the rest of the guests. as they had been having a photo shoot., the gusts seemed perfectly happy to drain the radioactive “cocktail supply” during their absence.]
By this time flocks of couples young and old, were so full of chemical that they were gagging for the music to begin, so that they could take to the dance floor. To “langarm” or “sokkie” as it is also known
Firstly, the polished cement floor was sprinkled liberally with grit, and then it began…initiated by Bride and Groom, who took to the floor, to the hysterical applause of all around, dancing” langarm”, to “their special song”. The moment the music skipped delicately onto the next tune,[which sounded remarkably like the first} the floor became flooded with dancers…all dancing “langarm”,and around and around the pole they spun,for song after song after song. Just to refresh your memories,The rhythm of this most stick-like of dances is strange. One arm is extended stiff and straight upwards towards the ceiling, usually the left for the male, the right for the female. Certain step configurations are met, such as in a waltz, but there is room for improvisation, and many couples are swept away in a free-flowing enjoyment that pays homage to the man leading and the woman following.

Having watched this for some time, I asked Magda if it was usual for people to dance only in an anti clockwise direction…she seemed taken aback, and then after a great deal of thought, said..”Yes, I`ve never really thought about it before, we always dance in this direction ,even when there is no pole to dance around.”
,
Many of the more seasoned dancers, had perfected a kind on “Non plussed look”, so that whilst they were being hurtled across the floor, caught in a circular tidal wave,. they could just as easily have been stuffing a chicken,or unblocking a sink…. if one were to guage the look on their faces. Thank the lord…..Some of the younger revelers did have animated faces, and they were performing, what Magda tells me, were quite avant guard “langarm” moves…but always spinning in the same direction. It was completely fascinating…many different styles of “langarm”, some far more adrenalized than others…but nevertheless, everyone was dancing the same dance…no matter what the music, and around they all went for hours, like the horses on a merry go round, girls and boys, husbands and wives, mothers and sons, fathers and daughters. aunties and nephews, in every possible familial combination, but always….always, in the same direction and many with a strange glaze in their eyes, that I have to put down to the cocktails!

Bossy and I [who very rarely dance], were having exactly the same thoughts, and couldn’t suppress our quiet deliberations, over what would happen if we decided to take to the floor…but in a clockwise direction. Having removed ourselves to the garden, for a fag break .Magda, who doesn’t smoke, but who had accompanied us to get some relief from the assault that our ear drums were taking from the folksy music,[but had brought her addiction with her..a large chocolate truffle ],counseled us against breaking the rules…particularly at some one else’s wedding, and made both Bossy and I feel like the school children we really are! So stubbing out our fags,we decided to return and hunt out the mother and father of the bride [who had invited us] in order to congratulate them.

Fatted cows and alters spring to mind.
We found them, sitting at the “top table”,[that I thought was the alter], watching the anticlockwise swell of the ocean of dancers waving at them from far below .
The father is a veritable giant of a man,[ a more clean shaven Hagrid] big everywhere, from his broad open face, to his thick muscular and very long arms, an extremely physical type, who shakes hands with an iron grip, and then claps the person he is greeting to his chest[ where inevitably their face becomes impaled in his ample chest hair, as he always wears an open shirt.]
He is a very genial guy, I have never seen him without a smile, and despite speaking almost no English…he always manages to make himself understood. On each of the two occasions that I have met him, he has reacted to me in exactly the same way, I had hoped that on the occasion of his daughters wedding he might spare me…but no…….
He placed his ample arms around me ,planted a stonker of a kiss on my lips, and lifted me up, off the floor and into the air, crushing me to his frame, my feet, [even in shockingly high shoes], were left flailing in the air, he then began to spin [anticlockwise of course!] and I joined the heady swell of partygoers beneath me, from an aerial position… It occurred to me,[as I was flying through the air], to wonder where he found the strength to lift me up, in the same way as a father would with a small child. [I`m hardly petite]…he smiled broadly up into my face [ I am not sure how I reacted at this point, because I was still in shock, had my arms pinned to my sides and was feeling very dizzy]…and then when, eventually, he let me down, and whilst I was drawing breath and re stabilizing my footing…he proceeded to slap me and rub me on the back and let out a deep.”AAAHHH” …. I suspected he might break out into “Fee Fi Foe Fum I smell the blood of an Englishwoman .But no….. He continued in broken English “I like…… big……. women…..good…. big …..Woman,”, I then had an the overwhelming sense that I was a Nguni about to go under the hammer.

This little ritual, caused Bossy the most hysterical amusement, and yes, he was standing convulsed with laughter tears glittering in his eyes,[as he has been on the past two occasions],those with us on the alter, were also full of mirth at the spectacle.
Father of the bride….tethered me firmly to his side, as if I was about to stampede out of his presence, and eulogized in Afrikaans on the benefits of “Lekker wiffies”.To whit all around him, [including Bossy!] concurred in Afrikaans.
I am., as always ….with this gentleman…completely at a loss…I have no idea how to deal with him, he is a very kind man…a real “ family man”, he is generous and good hearted, his actions are not the result of too much alcohol,. simply the actions of someone who operates on diametrically opposite social indices to my own. This man, is the most extreme example of how Northern Captonian men behave. Yes, on my scale of social behavior ….. chauvinistic and a touch too forward for someone I don’t consider a close friend, but any other form of behavior is utterly outside of his experience, clearly he believes that physical expressions of lets say “affection” are to be encouraged, and it seems everyone around him agrees. I shall just have to find some way of handling this man…and I don’t think I’m physically capable of giving him a taste of his own medicine!

Once released ,we took up our seats for supper, I sporadically kept an eye on “ father of the bride”, from the safe distance of our table ,in the farthest depths of the marquee, I. noticed that he was very physical with all he greeted…but none were treated [male or female] to the “airlift”.
As the entire event was taken up with so much dancing, I had no contact with The KAK/UP wives who actually seemed pretty thin on the ground on this occasion, and I spent much of the afternoon & evening in very congenial company.

Quite apart from the “flying incident”. Which found Bossy still giggling, on our way home!!!.The wedding was a very happy occasion, much “langarm” around the maypole [anti clockwise], much late eating, a banquet of meats fit for a king, & so stacked with protein,it would make a dietician weep. A great deal of imbibing of alcoholic beverages. Whilst it wasn’t grand in the “Royal” sense, nor “Bling” in the Beckham sense, it WAS fairytale…..in the “Grimms” sense.

I very regretfully,forgot my camera!!!!!