The Women Who Marry Ghosts

The Marriage

Uperi slipped from her hut at dawn.

No one had arrived yet for her wedding, but that was expected. The rest of the village was sleeping, but she had been up since moonrise. Being sisterless and motherless, she had to dress for her wedding herself. The bridal jewelry of shells and precious stones sang low on her neck, her waist, her arms. Loose golden chains hung from her forehead, dipping into a low-slung V down the bridge of her nose. The ceremonial paints of white and black cut sharp, hard Vs down her arms, her ribs, and the sides of her legs. Too bad there will be no husband to untangle me, she thought ruefully as she twisted her fingers around the chains and ribbons. With a deep, conceding sigh, Uperi knelt by the huge fire pit her neighbors had dug the day before. She rearranged her trappings on her person, and was still.

She heard Apo's grunting long before she saw him. As was wedding tradition, he had slaughtered her best bull in the fields. Several men helped him drag it through the village to her tent. A trail of warm, red blood soaked into the ground, a ribbon of life leading right to her. It is a good offering, Uperi knew, but she still mourned the loss, both as a stud and family heirloom. It had to be done.

The men busied themselves with the wet, hot work of butchering the bull. She did not move, legs folded beneath her and head bowed. They did not acknowledge her either, as was proper.

The villagers began arriving around mid-morning, gossiping as they sucked their breakfast off their fingers. They did not acknowledge her, and she did not acknowledge them, as was also proper. The families of the dead brides were the last to arrive, dressed in their mourning swathes of white and black. Uperi did not lift her eyes, but she felt their gazes skewer into her back, neck, and shoulders. She sympathized with her bull.

Once everyone had arrived around lunch, the preparations began. The organizing and cooking and disseminating of food, the twining and burning of sacred herbs, the sharing of beer and the too-sweet fermented fruit drink the Elders liked. The families of the dead brides did not have to participate, and chose not to. None of the families blamed her, necessarily, after Uperi's soon-to-be ghost husband had been judged responsible for a slew of dead future-brides. So, after all, how could she be blamed for a bachelor ghost's illicit tastes? But most felt as if this all was, somehow, her fault. It set her teeth on edge, but she did not move and she did not speak.

The rest of the ceremony proceeded as normally as could be expected.

Someone built a fire in the pit. The families of the dead brides spiraled around it and finally brought forth their offerings. First were the smoldering bark and fragrant grasses. When added to the fire, they glowed scarlet and spit sparks. Flames licked up her sides, but she did not move. The families brought pots of white honey, bundles of fragrant herbs, and rich meal porridge studded with nuts and dried fruits. The daughters and sons arranged it all on woven mats. Then, they stepped back and proclaimed that all should feast with them. Others brought impaled game, which they shoved on spits and stuck in the fire. The fat sizzled and popped, sometimes on Uperi's skin. But she didn't flinch. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Still more brought heaps of roasted vegetables, salted and charred, and delicate white fish from the river, poached in beer and broth. Uperi's mouth watered.

Then, Apo began parceling out her bull to the families. They would receive the best cuts of meat, and whatever was left would be distributed to the rest of the villagers. This was a sacred task and Uperi knew Apo didn't mind performing it. It was only fitting, after all, since she was to be married to his dead brother. Being next of kin, it was Apo's duty to orchestrate this service.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Apo tease the heart from the carcass of her sacred bull. She knew he would cut it, carefully and methodically, into thin strips she could almost see through. He would then hang them from a stick with twine like strange, red jewels. The jerky would be gristly and nearly too tough to eat, but she would be expected to devour each slice of heart. Ideally, while the Elders' apprentices could watch and verify she had, indeed, swallowed it all.