J and I often talk about the fact that living here, things are often not as they seem. And though we have known the Glammy for nearly a year, her home life will always be something that comes a surprise, even though when she's with us and the boys, you would never know what lay beneath.
The dwarves, Grace and I, turned up at her flat where she lives with her Mum and sister, for her 'Xotbe' the engagment party, which had been hastily organised after her uncle, the head of the family since her father died, decreed that she would need to marry this week.
We could hear the pumping bass beat from outside on the street as we drew up in the darkness at 6pm. We went in the door and between huge pedestals of flowers, surrounded by rows of chairs occupied by female family members, sat the Glammy, on her own, in a coral pink gown with hair and makeup that must have taken at least 4 hours. The boys didn't recognise her, and wouldn't say hello, making off in the direction of her bedroom and her wide screen TV.
I mingled a bit with the ladies, and tried to talk over the thumping music. The Glammy told me how sad she was, that it had to be like this. She told me how her uncle had made her mother, her fiancé and herself go around for a meeting, to hear if he'd given his approval for the marriage. 'Get me my gun,' the uncle said to her. And the Glammy brought it for him, wondering in the back of her head if he was going to do something crazy. Instead it seemed, he was just wielding his power. He told them they had to marry this week. So the Glammy had to get dolled up and sign the wedding papers and have an engagement party all on the same day. She said her mother had no say in it, being a woman, and in any case has been wanting the Glammy married off since she was 17 when her father died - despite the fact that the Glammy has supported the family financially for all this time.
My heart was in my red high heeled shoes as I tiptoed around the carpeted apartment, trying to talk to the cousins and aunts and great aunts and sisters. How can the Glammy's power to run her life be taken from her like this, I thought, by some bone headed uncle who has no concern for her welfare?
What was most upsetting was the reaction of the dwarves who obviously smelled an enormous rat - and refused to be involved at all. The atmosphere was not a happy one, and we left after an hour with St Grace, after the boys had been pulling and pulling both my arms to drag me out of the door and go home.
Tears pricked in my eyes as we drove to drop St Grace at her flat. We love the Glammy and we want the best for her. But we, too, are powerless.
The thing that keeps me hopeful is that the fiancé, it seems, is gentle and kind, and despite the family pressure, has promised the Glammy she can decide in her own time what she wants. In her words, 'And if it doesn't turn out right, then I can always run away. No one can catch me.'
A sad reality of so many female lives in this world in the 21st century.
The dwarves, Grace and I, turned up at her flat where she lives with her Mum and sister, for her 'Xotbe' the engagment party, which had been hastily organised after her uncle, the head of the family since her father died, decreed that she would need to marry this week.
We could hear the pumping bass beat from outside on the street as we drew up in the darkness at 6pm. We went in the door and between huge pedestals of flowers, surrounded by rows of chairs occupied by female family members, sat the Glammy, on her own, in a coral pink gown with hair and makeup that must have taken at least 4 hours. The boys didn't recognise her, and wouldn't say hello, making off in the direction of her bedroom and her wide screen TV.
I mingled a bit with the ladies, and tried to talk over the thumping music. The Glammy told me how sad she was, that it had to be like this. She told me how her uncle had made her mother, her fiancé and herself go around for a meeting, to hear if he'd given his approval for the marriage. 'Get me my gun,' the uncle said to her. And the Glammy brought it for him, wondering in the back of her head if he was going to do something crazy. Instead it seemed, he was just wielding his power. He told them they had to marry this week. So the Glammy had to get dolled up and sign the wedding papers and have an engagement party all on the same day. She said her mother had no say in it, being a woman, and in any case has been wanting the Glammy married off since she was 17 when her father died - despite the fact that the Glammy has supported the family financially for all this time.
My heart was in my red high heeled shoes as I tiptoed around the carpeted apartment, trying to talk to the cousins and aunts and great aunts and sisters. How can the Glammy's power to run her life be taken from her like this, I thought, by some bone headed uncle who has no concern for her welfare?
What was most upsetting was the reaction of the dwarves who obviously smelled an enormous rat - and refused to be involved at all. The atmosphere was not a happy one, and we left after an hour with St Grace, after the boys had been pulling and pulling both my arms to drag me out of the door and go home.
Tears pricked in my eyes as we drove to drop St Grace at her flat. We love the Glammy and we want the best for her. But we, too, are powerless.
The thing that keeps me hopeful is that the fiancé, it seems, is gentle and kind, and despite the family pressure, has promised the Glammy she can decide in her own time what she wants. In her words, 'And if it doesn't turn out right, then I can always run away. No one can catch me.'
A sad reality of so many female lives in this world in the 21st century.
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