Tuesday, 13 March 2012
The Phantom Wedding
The saturday small town wedding horns where honking outside. People where squealing and making a racket.The house faces the main square, so as all from the little town I also made my appearance on the square in slippers.
Each of the Kastel Kambelovac hags where voicing their own story verison on repeat. " She is getting married for papers, she is russian", "She is pregnant with another, why otherwise would she be marrying Grga"...
Beautiful young blonde in a pretty wedding dress was standing on the Brce square, with a bouquet in hand. We had never seen her before. Certantley a stanger if not a forigner.
Twice older than her, dwarfish, moustached Grga, the good hearted drunk, first time in a lifetime was wearing a suit, and territorialy walking circles around the bride.
Nobody could belive their ears, and less still their eyes. Grga the batcholer at the age exceeding half a century truley was getting married, and the bride contrary to all possible expectations of the town, was young and pretty, fueling the town's "propper good women" to engage most agressivley in rapacious gossip, their jaws clacking with envy.
Feeoo,Feeoo, fireworks frizzleld aobut, the Croatian flag was waved from a car. Numerous cars amassed around the square, friends of the groom, fishermen, Dica owner of the fhishing fleet , his neighbour Radman, and their children where freestyling a wedding march, than very noisiley left for dinner.
The next morning. In the information centre of all important news, cafe bar Duic, I am drinking morning coffe, and ask owner the bar was named after, about Grga.
"Did he really get married last night? He did? To a German girl? Why does she need emigration papers? "
Suddnley Grga appears in perosn, shirt coller un buttoned, tie askew, his face pasted with an espression of utter bewilderment.
Duic speaks ," All morning Grga is searching for his bride, he lost her" than in that Duic style, he sneers a self-satisfied quizical smile .
" So you did really get married last night? I ask sceptically.
"Yes" Grga rattles his head in confirmation.
Duic continues in his name" There was a wedding march, lamb on the spit, vine, and bride, but when Grga hit the bottle, the bride vanished."
Duic wonderousley always knows everything. Grga orders coffe, downs fire water, continuing to look confused, than dissapers again.
Four days Grga hunted for his bride all across the small town, and found her not. The good mans heart broke, his face concreated into a permenat grimace of confusion, from which sadley hung a melancholy graying moustache.
On the fifth day the truth came out.
Dica and Radman had orchestrated Grga a false wedding. They dressed a visiting and allready wed german guest into a wife's wedding dress, organised a wedding company gathering all their firends and insisted they wore suits, than made enough noise and theatre, poured into Grga enough vine for the poor man to belive it was all true.
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