A Cuban Wedding
HAVANA TIMES – Norka, a friend of mine, asked me to be a witness at her wedding, and also to be her photographer. I agreed without hesitation. You all know I love taking pictures. If I had a professional camera, I’d be so happy.
When I think of a wedding, I recall what happened at mine. First off, my future husband showed up a bit tipsy, he had a few drinks but wasn’t completely drunk. He was clowning around. During the ceremony, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I almost didn’t say “I do.”
The honeymoon was a disaster too—some friends showed up at our hotel room. One of them even stayed the night with their partner, and they left the sink faucet running, flooding the bathroom.
None of that happened at this wedding. The couple has a good relationship and they were excited to sign the marriage papers.
I’m not in favor of marriage—I only see it as a legal matter to avoid losing rights. Love is something else entirely.
So here’s the story. I went early to my friend’s apartment, because that’s where the car would pick us up to go to the marriage registration office. The bride wasn’t dressed yet, because the groom was still there—and he wasn’t supposed to be picked up, since traditionally, the groom arrives first and waits for his future wife.
She was too nervous to go into the room and get ready, since the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride’s dress. They say it brings bad luck. The dress was a bit loose, so they pinned it at the waist. I took the opportunity to snap some photos while she was getting her makeup done.
Finally, the groom left, and then my friend’s children and grandchildren started arriving. This wasn’t her first wedding—she married young the first time. Now she’s over fifty.
The grandkids, five and six years old, started running wild around the house, but later calmed downplaying with a cellphone. The family cat, a black one, kept darting in and out, hiding from everyone. Three cellphones hit the floor in under two hours, and one got its screen protector cracked. I don’t know why families get so worked up before a wedding, but that’s just how it is. I think I was the only one who stayed calm.
We had to be at the marriage registration office before 11 a.m., and the car showed up at 10:45. I was stunned—it was a huge green almendrón (a classic US car from the 1950s). We all piled in however we could. The kids sat on their parents’ laps. Since it’s an old car, I was afraid it might break down on the way. The driver had reggaeton blasting loud enough to burst eardrums. I politely asked him to turn it down because I needed to make a call. Thankfully, he did—otherwise we’d all have arrived dizzy and with headaches.
At our destination, the notary wrote down the details of the two witnesses. Then he read the rights to the couple. The ceremony was short—just a regular wedding, no vows. Then it was back into the almendrón. On the ride back, there was a problem with the edge of the seat, and I had to sit there. I got home with a numb butt.
Once we were back and no longer rushing, the music started, and I took more photos of the family eating and drinking from the buffet. The poor bride went into the kitchen to fry croquettes and wash the dishes. I used the moment to take more candid shots. I think photos without poses come out more natural.
Funny detail: when they handed out the cake and she asked for her slice, it was already gone.
The bride is always the one who has the least fun. Once she takes off the dress, everything goes back to normal. With the transformation, the magic disappears.