Entering the church at my dear friend’s wedding some 28 years ago, I was met by an unexpected sight – a live cow stood in a stall, directly behind the front doors – in the center of the entry hall; right next to the guest book. It might have been the smell I remember best.
The point of the cow was to tell everyone that this was a ten cow wife.
No ordinary woman, but a precious and treasured woman, worth not one, but ten cows.
The bride had grown up as a missionary kid in Africa where her dad was a long time bush pilot. My friend had stood out among the native tribes – with her long ash blond hair and sweet disposition – she was seen as a catch. Her dad had been approached on several occasions with offers of marriage for his beautiful daughter, once being offered the large sum of a whole ten cows as a bride price.
