Day 45: I only know their names, Dina and Rizki, and that today is supposed to be the happiest day in their lives. Their wedding takes place under a tent that is crowded with relatives and friends. Their silky clothes are luxurious, and every embroidery seems to have been crafted by an expert hand. The bride is crowned with fake jewels. Perhaps this dress has been passed down from generation to generation. Dina's smile is too static to be authentic. Rizki, instead, seems to be thoroughly enjoying the day. Her parents sit in a semi-circle opposite her. This is probably the moment in which they are “handing” the girl over to the groom’s family. You could exchange what goes on under the tent for a wedding in Dubai. Outside the tent, life goes on as normal in this coastal district, among the rubble, the dirt road, the house foundations eroded by the rising seas, and the wooden roofs collapsing under the power of typhoons.
Maybe this tent is a metaphor of global warming. We live in a bubble where everything seems joyful and luxurious, but reality bites outside. The brides can hardly pronounce my name, but they share their food with me as if I were a member of their family. My van to Yogjakarta departs soon, so I leave the gathering well before the wedding is over. I leave under the illusion their future will be bright... 65/

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