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Published: October 28th 2009
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All of a sudden, as happens with all lao weddings, it was time for my lao family’s wedding and baby party. Lao people don’t send out wedding invites months before as we do in America. Oh no, numerous times, I watched these invites show up at the guesthouse, set for dates the next day. In addition, I had wrongly assumed that my the mother and father in my family were already married, since they lived together and had a baby together, and I thought lao people were traditional in these matters. Well it turns out, because Lao people are so traditional, if a man and a woman move in together, they are basically considered married by society. A marriage party will follow at some point, as money allows, but the marriage is really already considered a done deal.
So I think we found out about the wedding and baby party two days before, which is a good amount of notice for a Lao wedding. The invite comes in an envelope, which you fill with money and bring to the wedding as a gift. We couldn’t read the invite, but our family told us it had our Lao names on it;
Sangchan and Phivan. My man’s first given Lao name was actually Joan, which apparently means thief, as he had come to Laos and stolen me from the boys in my family. But as my family became his family, they kindly changed his name to something less offensive. Although Lao nicknames are often offensive, and this is considered a sign of affection. (For example, the nickname Toeuy, meaning fat, is very common.)
This party was AWESOME. It began, as all meaningful events do in Laos, with a baci ceremony, around 10 AM. The women wore their finest silk sinhs’ and matching silk tops. The men wore nice slacks and button up short-sleeve shirts. Both sexes wore a fancy scarf draped across their shoulders, as tradition dictates. A beautiful, tree-shaped, two-foot tall centerpiece, painstakingly created by hand from marigolds and banana leaves, was the focal point of the ceremony, held in the in-laws front room, the same place where Ieung, the bride and new mother, had spend her last few weeks with the baby. Bananas, oranges, rice cakes, and boiled chicken were placed on the central pier surrounding the marigold stupa. Sticks loaded up with white strings poked out from the
stupa in every direction, ready to be tied on wrists to call back spirits. The village chief led the ceremony, reciting prayers and blessings, and a human chain was formed, each person putting a hand on the central stupa or on someone touching the central stupa. Ieung looked on, so, so tired but incredibly beautiful in her rich silk gold and turquoise sinh, tunic and scarf.
Once the blessings were recited, sticks of strings were handed around, and everyone began tying strings on each others wrists, simultaneously offering their own blessings of health and happiness. Once the strings were all tied, as many as possible, (thirty-two is the ultimate amount, but generally less are tied, a few considered enough to be symbolic of that thirty-two) the symbolic food from around the stupa was eaten, handed to others, put in one’s own mouth, or sometimes fed directly to the mouth of another. The baby’s tiny wrists received no less than thirty-two white strings, as she had just entered this world, and this party was for her, and it was most important that her soul was fully bound to her body, a task the strings were intended to take care of.
Once the religious part of the party was complete, the feasting and drinking could begin. To celebrate the baci, we drank orange Fanta and BeerLao, a fabulous morning cocktail we deemed “Lao mamosas”. We ate a delicious noodle-like dish that had been prepared en masse for the celebration. We nibbled on rambutan, delicious red spiky fruit with a soft, sweet lychee-like interior. And then we entered the party that was beginning just outside the front door.
The entire street had been blocked-off, and a series of tables had been set-up, stretching ninety-feet down the road. Each table was fully set for the party, bottles of beer, plates of noodles, sticky rice, BBQ pork, fish lap, plates and cups. And the guests had arrived; dozens of them sat and stood around the tables, excitedly talking and quickly becoming inebriated. I should mention, at every Lao special event, inebriation is basically required. Bottom-less beer is expected to be made available by the hosts, and cups are never allowed to stay empty. Cries of, “kin bia, kin bia, kin, kin, kin” can often be heard, encouraging guests to drink up, and drink on.
At one point, I looked up and saw
what appeared to be two people getting married at the head of the table. The live music was paused, but the din from the chatter of hundreds of guests continued. I rushed up to the head of the table to get what would be the only pictures of the wedding ceremony, before the “wedding” part ended as quickly as it had begun. Some guests were watching the ceremony, but many paid it no mind. The ceremony consisted of a man speaking some words while the bride and groom stood by, grim faces, palms together at their chests, silent. The whole serious affair was over within five minutes; some guests never even having noticed it had begun.
Soon, the dancing began, traditional Hawaiian-esque lao-style consisting of hip-swaying, graceful wrist-rotating and finger curling, all done while slowly walking in a large circle. A jolly large man soon began forcibly dispensing giant shots of Johnny Walker Red, the favorite upscale drink of choice for Laos and Thais. Men played cards and gambled at tables set off to the side. Every Lao person present considered it their duty to ensure the foreign guests were drinking heartily. “Sangchan, Sangchan, Sangchan”; my lao name constantly
The bride, with her mother holding her baby, having baci strings tied on her
When baci strings are tied on one of your wrists, you should always have the other wrist up in prayer position like she does here. rang out, with demands for me to drink more. Toasts were made every five minutes. The children ran around, danced and ate, loving all the excitement. I considered it my solemn duty to act as wedding photographer, seeing as I was the one who'd brought along a camera. Halfway though the party, a man arrived bearing a bloody wedding gift: a civet, a jungle cat, slung over his shoulder. I assume he'd just hunted and killed the beast. Talk about a fresh present!! A woman living street-side wasted no time getting her cauldron boiling, and the cat chopped up and cooking, to add to the feast. Thanks to all the booze, much craziness ensued. Even Ieung changed in to a cute yellow dress and partied a bit. By six PM, after what seemed like weeks of boozing, we were in our bed, drunk and exhausted, sleeping.
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