The Art of Lobola
Credit - Pinterest (A Senegalese bride) She whispered to her brother that it was time. With bated breath, we gathered at the door, the excitement palpable in the air. As my aunt walked back into the living room, her face was a mixture of proud satisfaction and nervous energy. She motioned to us to follow, and the gentle rustle of our feet on the wooden floor created a rhythm of anticipation. As my aunt opened the door to the bedroom, the bride looked radiant, her traditional chitenga shimmering with the colors of the sun. She was seated on the bed, her headwrap perfectly in place, but there was a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. We gathered around her, a circle of love and support, comforting her with whispered reassurances. “Just breathe,” I said, taking her hand gently. The warmth of her palm felt reassuring beneath my fingers. “You look stunning.” At that moment, we could hear the murmurs of the men, discussing the terms they had all so pa
