On the morning of September 18, 2009, my fiancé Doug and I received the proverbial good news/bad news combo. The good news was that Doug had gotten the final document necessary for a legal marriage in Mozambique. This was a particularly auspicious turn of events, in that our wedding was scheduled for later that evening. The bad news was that our resort's water pump had busted and there was no running H2O.
I was reassured that the water situation would be corrected quickly, so we left for the Conservatoria (the equivalent of City Hall) with reams of paperwork to find out if, indeed, we could get legally wed.
The Flamingo Bay Resort managers - a South African couple named Maryke and Andrew - had previously connected us to a charming man named Dionisio, a local pastor who agreed to perform our ceremony. He also volunteered to join us at the Conservatorio to introduce us to the Conservador.
Unbeknownst to me, an appointment with the Conservador is a bit like meeting the local Godfather. Once there, Dionisio found a clerk who escorted us to the outside of two giant double doors. They opened with an ominous creak, and we entered a room where missing chunks of wall plaster contrasted with maroon velvet furniture. Suddenly, I felt very self-conscious about the fact that I was wearing a tank and shorts over a bikini.
The Godfather perused our documents, and shook his head. Via Dionisio's translation, we learned that there was an eight-day waiting period between filing paperwork and having a wedding, something no one thought to tell us previously. Doug and I decided the best solution would be to go ahead and get married, and have the official wedding certificate sent eight days later. This was not optimum as there was no way of guaranteeing the aforementioned document would ever actually be sent to us. But we didn't have much choice at that point - my return flight to Dallas was two days away.
We needed to leave our paperwork behind, so Doug elected to get photocopies made. He left and I continued to sit in my plush chair as The Godfather and Dionisio began chatting. This led to lots of hand gestures, tsk-tsking, and what appeared to be negotiation on the part of Dionisio.
The Godfather walked into the inner sanctum of his office and returned with a calendar and notepad. He wrote down several figures on a piece of paper and pushed it across his desk towards Dionisio. At this point, the fact that I don't understand a lick of Portuguese was moot. I knew exactly what was going down! Turns out that for 4,800 meticals ($196) we could get officially married. (In contrast, the regular eight-day fee is $12. And, for more contrast, the average annual income in Mozambique is $330.)
Doug returned, Dionisio explained the situation, we both agreed, and The Godfather started back-dating official-looking forms. Success! The only thing that gave us pause was learning that Dionisio was not really a pastor. He was just a guy that spoke excellent English, was totally plugged into the local government, and owned a bar. Given what he had just accomplished, we figured those credentials were plenty good enough.
By the time we made it back to the resort, it was 3 o'clock and our wedding was scheduled for 5:30. I headed to our chalet for primping, and was thrilled to learn that my hair dryer didn't blow every fuse at Flamingo Bay. Doug was not as fortunate during the grooming process, as the water went out once again while he was in the shower. A few minutes later, it returned and we both breathed a sigh of relief.
Some brides arrive to their wedding ceremony in a horse-drawn carriage or limo. I rode back to the main lodge in the back of a golf cart.
Doug had found a local, non-English-speaking photographer that managed to communicate various poses to us via pantomime, so we took advantage of the lag time between Dionisio's and The Godfather's arrival to take pics before the sun set...but, at this point, the sun was sinking rapidly and there was no sign of either. Turns out, it was the highest tide of the year and the road to the resort had washed out. Both of our officials were wading through water, so Andrew got behind the wheel of his four-wheel-drive vehicle and set out to fetch them.
They each arrived with a significant other in tow, looking quite dapper in their suits. Doug had written out our marriage vows on a yellow legal pad for Dionisio. I was particularly grateful for his foresight since, up until that moment, Dionisio had thought my name was Annie.
He began the ceremony, complete with a dramatic pause after the "...if anyone here knows a reason why these two should not be married speak now or forever hold your peace..." part. I'm not exactly sure who he thought might object as Doug and I were the only ones present, but I guess he felt it was best to be on the safe side.
At this point, we're thinking that the second part of the ceremony will simply involve us signing some paperwork. Instead, The Godfather donned a nifty sash, indicated that we both needed to remove our wedding rings, and handed his girlfriend/wife our marriage certificate. While balancing a giant handbag slung over her shoulder, she began a recitation that was long on pomp and ceremony but short on English. Once she completed her assignment, The Godfather began asking us questions in Portuguese. I nodded my head every time he paused or looked at me, so it's highly likely that I inadvertently agreed to fork over one of my vital organs if The Godfather ever needs one. We then signed a dusty old ledger - the likes of which hasn't been seen since the days of Charles Dickens - and were truly, officially, and legally wed!
Afterwards, everyone joined us for a glass of champagne. Both Dionisio and The Godfather requested copies of our wedding photos, and Dionisio even asked us to serve as witnesses when he gets married to his girlfriend. Doug and I had dinner on the balcony overlooking Inhambane Bay, were entertained by a local band/group of dancers, and drank even more champagne.
All in all, I wouldn't change a single detail! Except maybe the tank/shorts/swimsuit ensemble. Next time I visit The Godfather, I'm wearing something befitting the occasion.
