Mock Bridal Shower

My life at school is, of necessity, one long “go-with-the-flow” because 1) I never know what is going on until I ask / someone thinks to translate to English for me and those translations are usually partial and 2) there are many hours when I’m not at school and everyone else is (they all teach classes in the afternoon for extra money) when I miss a lot of intrigue. My attendance at the Mock Bridal Shower follows a similar pattern.


Our school is right outside the presidential compound and serves the children of the army of housekeepers, gardeners and other low-ranking staff members who live and work inside. Thus, I’m not that surprised when the teachers are gushing one day about a bridal shower inside the compound that will be attended by the first lady – they insist I should attend. Sure, I’m game.

Next, I’m told that I need to give money for chitenje so I can have a dress made in the official colors – maroon and gold. Chitenje appears, I fork over the cash and my friend Mrs. Ann Ndege hooks me up with her tailor to have said fabric turned into a dress (which I later have to model for people in the teacher’s lounge).  

It’s not until I’m asked to pay for my ticket that I see the “Mock Bridal Shower” title at the top. Wait, what?! Mock bridal shower? Turns out that bridal showers, in Malawi, are basically fundraisers. Guests pay for a ticket to the event and the program involves various women giving advice to the bride and multiple rounds of dancing while throwing small bills at the bride, bride’s mother, speakers, groom, etc. to help them get a start in married life. (I haven’t been to a wedding yet, but apparently they involve many of the same customs.) One of my colleagues had the idea that, by throwing a fake bridal shower, the customs could be used as a fundraiser for charity. There’s no real bride. Which of course everyone else has known all along.

Ann says she’ll pick me up at 11:15 Sunday morning, so I’m all washed up and ready to go. Unlike the rest of us, Ann is speaking at the event (she’s in charge of the section on hygiene and clothing etiquette) so we have to arrive early even though the event doesn’t start until 1:30. The event is scheduled to go until 5:00, but the First Lady is late, and then the Master of Ceremonies gets too caught up in calling people up by social group (Army Wives! Public Servants! Ministers of Parliament!) to throw kwachas and we end up still barreling along at 7:00pm. Thank goodness for the loss of the First Lady’s patience, or we would have been there all night!

I won’t make you read a play-by-play of the full eight hour ordeal. Highlights included Nathaniel’s quasi boss, Permanent Secretary Dr. Mary Showa pledging 200,000 kwachas to sit next to the first lady during the event, MPs wearing incredible headdresses dancing and throwing kwachas, a dramatic power outage just after the First Lady gets up to speak about etiquette and my friend Ann referring to the fact that you need to be careful about the sweat that collects between your butt cheeks (in front of the first lady, multiple MPs, etc., of course).

I should note that I had zero idea what a big deal the event was prior to showing up and, as the only white person in a crowd of 200+, dressed in the uniform of the organizers who were acting as ushers and waiters, but seated at one of the head tables with the speakers (Ann wanted me for moral support), it was an awkward cultural experience to say the least. Of course, pictures say it best…

Me and Ann waiting for the event to start.

The event tent at the presidential palace.

Throwing kwachas at the first lady (in lime green).

Three of my colleagues, happy after the event.