Momo's wedding and other weekend craziness!

This weekend we had the opportunity to go to our security guard and friend, Momo’s, wedding. Momo and Marthaline decided to have a traditional Liberian country wedding. The requirements for which include the entire wedding party going to the bride’s village for the ceremony. As it turns out, the village Marthaline grew up in was an unknown distance off of the main road from a city four hours outside of Monrovia. As Momo’s employers and friends, it became our responsibility to transport them all there. We did not really know what we were getting ourselves into and it had all the makings to become the perfect Gong show.

The wedding caravan left before seven am on Saturday. Our JAC truck was loaded down with about 15 wedding guests sitting on recycled church pews in the back. I was driving the pick-up full of VIP Liberian women, including the bride. Our Jeep had the rest of the ORR gang, plus Momo’s pa. Four hours outside Monrovia we reached Gbarnga (pronounced Bonga) and found the dirt road that led to Marthaline’s village.

As the driver of the vehicle with the bride inside, I had to lead the caravan into the village. Marthaline had not been to her village for a long time and the best description for how long it would take along the dirt road was “It is far, small,” (which in Liberian translates to really, really far) and “We will pass five other villages to get there.” The road, more like a trail, took us past several small villages and over eight iffy log bridges. Thankfully, Marthaline was a little off on her estimation and we reached the village after only 45 minutes of bumping along the dusty road.

The family had erected a flower and palm branch awning at the house (mud hut) and everyone was ready to start the festivities as soon and the bride and groom had arrived. I can’t really explain everything that happened over the next five hours, but after we all changed into our wedding clothes, the negotiations began. We all sat in school chairs as both families negotiated, exchanged money, a glass bowl, some cola nuts and wood carvings. Somewhere along the way they started serving popcorn and a crazy drunk lady started yelling from the back of the crowd. Then all of a sudden the negotiations ended, people were hugging and shaking hands and they were serving food and soft drinks. The wedding was over—Momo was married.

We elected to not stay in the village and found a nearby guesthouse to sleep at. The next morning we returned down the dusty road and over the bridges to pick up the wedding party and head back to town. The party continued in the back of the JAC but things were much more sedate in my vehicle. When I asked Marthaline if she was going to ride back in the back of the JAC with her husband she said, “No way Debbie, I am with you!”

The ride back to town was slow and bumpy. We were all exhausted and ready to be home when we came across the scene of a motorbike accident. It had literally just happened, the wheel of the bike was still turning when we drove by. I saw two women walking along the side of the road and started thinking everything was ok, until I noticed the man laying on the shoulder. I pulled over the truck and ran across the road, fully expecting him to be dead. He had some pretty significant road rash on one arm and a leg. Thankfully, he was breathing and had a strong pulse, but was not responsive.

Somehow Liberians starting appearing from everywhere, everyone thinking they knew the right thing to do. I really didn’t want to move him, but Mariel had been in this circumstance before and quickly reminded me that no one else was coming. God must have put authority in my voice because somehow everyone at the scene who was trying to “help” listened to my commands. We rolled up a shirt to stabilize his neck and found a tarp to use as a stretcher. Meanwhile other ORRers were throwing grass into the street to alert passing cars and directing traffic. We loaded him and his sisters (who also had some pretty bad road rash and were pretty hysterical but otherwise unharmed) into the back of the JAC truck and headed out towards the hospital. Mariel and I took turns attempting to keep his neck immobilized as we lumbered down the road, through Red Light, and over some huge potholes.

Somewhere along the way I looked around the back of the truck and had to laugh. Besides the accident victims, Mariel and I, there were several wedding participants, huge bunches of bananas, a sound system and a live chicken. Not your typical ambulance, that is for sure. On the drive towards the hospital the man started moving and responding to pain, but never regained consciousness or was able to talk to us or follow commands. We arrived at the only hospital that takes trauma victims in the country about 45 minutes later. It took several attempts to explain the need for a stretcher and a neck brace, but we eventually did get them and wheeled the patient inside. In the ER I reported to the doctor what I knew. He never got out of his chair, but assured me he would check out the patient as soon as he was registered. I did see a nurse in the room as we were leaving.

I rode on a pew in the back of the JAC, with Momo’s brothers and the chicken, for the rest of the way home. Back at Momo’s house (next door to mine) the wedding party continued. We decided not to stay and went out to one of our favorite restaurants to enjoy some AC and burgers instead.

It was a crazy, but not quite as Gong-showish as I though it would be, weekend and I am thoroughly exhausted. Eh Liberia!