Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Marriage of Happiness

Africa, the continent of jungles and swinging vines, the land which lions, elephants, giraffes and other wild life roam. Where natives dance around a big iron pot, cooking their meal. This is how television poison people’s minds with the view of only one side of this beautiful land.
When we first arrived at Africa, we never suspect that Durban (29˚ south, 31˚ east) would look like San Francisco. Sky scrapers, high-rises, paved roads... It seems like I’ve completed my journey and gone home... But something about this place is different... It’s something that gives Africa it’s own blood beat, it’s own sort of rhythm that can not be heard, but felt within the heart...
As I arrive at Durban’s Port of the royal Natal Yacht Club, Mac McLaren (who worked with me at the Darwin power station) was standing on the port, waving ferociously, shouting my name across the water. After I met his gaze and waved back, he dived into the water and swam to Dove. When he arrived, I hulled him aboard. After talking about how he tracked us (me and Patti) down he told me that Patti was waiting for me on one of the ocean cruisers in the yacht basin. I hurriedly got through customs then rushed for the yacht that carries Patti, and once there, we flew into each other’s arms and embraced each other for God knows how long.
Although we have been together for a really long time, neither of us ever spoke of marriage. Most of the marriages we know of had broken down and we were still quite young. But our Durban reunion brought a new idea to my mind. I would love to give Patti a pledge that she is more, to me, than just a sailor’s wife. I wanted her to know how much I loved her, and that nothing could stop us from being together, not even the next port.
Throughout the next week, a National Geographic staff writer came and we worked the first article of my voyage together. The day the magazine staff member left, was the day I proposed to Patti. We were walking by a jewelry shop when something caught the corner of my eye. It was a golden ring with a strange Oriental design. I nudged Patti and lead her through the doors of the store, then I asked the jeweler to slide the ring onto Patti’s ring finger of her heft hand. It fitted perfectly, then I asked her to marry me.
On our way back to the hotel, Patti thought about my proposal. She told me that it didn’t have to be marriage, and that she wouldn’t want me to feel like she owns me so I couldn’t ever leave her. But I changed her mind and the next morning, we went to the Durban magistrate’s court to get married. The official asked my age and when I told him I was eighteen, he said I needed a notarized consent since I was still a minor. I wrote a letter to my parents explaining our situation and Patti returned to the yacht club.
Later on in the afternoon, I took Patti to a spot on the beach where we sat down. I took her hand, slipped the ring off, then put it back on when I said to her that even if I don’t know the words of the marriage ceremony, I do know that I just wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and so from this day forward, we are man and wife. It’s just that simple.

Event from Chapter 7 of Dove, Drumbeats and Bridal Suite. Page 103-107.

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