An African bush wedding

So my little sister’s wedding has come and gone. It still feels rather surreal to think about how this cute little kid has grown into the most beautiful young woman – inside and out – and that she’s now married to a really good guy who makes her extremely happy. Surreal, but real.


My talented mom (MTM) made her wedding dress, as well as my maid of honour dress. I was told that officially it was matron of honour as I’m married, but that made me feel too old and what-have-I-done-with-my-life. It also reminded me of my old matron at boarding school, so I’m sticking with maid. But back to my sister’s dress.

Strapless, white silk over layers of petticoats, with clear beads dotted between white chain stitch whipped with silver and finished off with pleated detailing. And two red roses in her hair. Unfortunately, between my dress and flowers, there was nowhere to stash a camera. So I’ll have to post close-ups of her dress when I get the official photographer’s versions, which will no doubt be better than these snapshots. But at least they give an idea of the overall effect:



That’s me, second in red (okay, the vertically challenged one) and MTM giving my sister away. After a deluge the day before, the weather came to the party and my sister and brand new brother-in-law were able to get married under their Marula tree, under the African sun:


With weddings come hen parties, which in this case was a cocktails and canapés affair that straddled the line between pamper party and kitchen tea. The reason I mention this aspect of the wedding is because my fellow bridesmaid, the groom’s sister, was in charge of entertainment. And one of the games she came up with was to divide everyone into teams and get them to create a wedding dress for one team member – out of toilet paper and in 12 minutes. I guess having MTM and her seamstress friend in one team and a young fashion designer in another was always going to result in something good. Please do note their “ribbon roses”, although the younger team was eventually deemed the winner:



I haven’t included the third team for reasons of decency, as their “bride” looked more like a scantily clad mummy…

And so months of lists and discussions and planning and making are over. The honeymoon is almost in the past and life goes on. With second to none memories of extended families gathered in the bushveld to look back on with a smile.