Every time her door opens, children push and pile into the doorway, leaping and squealing, seeking a glimpse of the bride before women shoo them away. Darkness envelops the sky, and suddenly hundreds of women are crushed into the Camaras' courtyard. An elderly woman escorts Aisha out of the room, down stairs and outside. Aisha, barefooted, sits on a stool, and the older woman dips a cloth into a gourd and wipes Aisha's face. Then, meticulously, the woman, using a straw sponge and soap, scrubs the girl's arms and legs.
Women sing and chant and clap.
The crowd closes in until the circle around Aisha is suffocatingly tight. Heat rises off skin. A few minutes later, the older woman lifts Aisha off the stool, and a knot of a half-dozen women shuffle the girl back into the house. The wedding is over. Thirty minutes later, as celebrants begin to fall away, everyone is told that Aisha is still inside when she is actually sitting down in front of the Camaras' home, head stooped and still covered, waiting to be taken to her husband's house.