Do You...Dance? (Part 2)

The receiving room where John drank tea
for a couple hours pre-wedding. 

Last time I left you, I had just had a rather embarrassing conversation with my new friends that I had made while waiting for the wedding to begin.  Thankfully, I was rescued by the sound of horns honking in the distance.  This indicates that the bride and groom are on their way.  Thank goodness!

The bride and groom arrive
with video guy.

By the time they weaved in and through the narrow dirt roads/paths, it was around 12:30 am.  I had already “celebrated” for 2 and half hours and the party was just getting started.

John emerged from one of the homes and we made eye contact.  I told the women that I was going to go stand by my husband and they gave me a wink.  I’m glad they couldn’t see me blushing in the dark.

The bride and groom were led into the reception area by a group of young men playing drums and singing.  All of the village attendees poked their heads out of their homes and took to the streets lining it as the couple walked by.  (They were the smart ones.  They know how these things roll.)

People dancing all in the street
See the rhythm all in their feet. 

Everyone began dancing and made their way to the reception area.  The band kicked it off with some happening Nubian party music.  Our friend, Ahmed*, appeared around the corner and greeted us.  We were relieved to see a familiar face in the crowd.  He then introduced us to two women he had met through his work.  One was British and the other German.  They wanted to see an authentic Nubian wedding.  This one would not disappoint.

We aren’t accustomed to having other foreigners with us so when we walked into the crowd, we caused a bit of a stir.  John and I were dressed in traditional Nubian wear, but the other ladies had on typical tourist clothes complete with fannypack and large camera about the neck.

The space was divided into two areas.  The women were on one side and the men on the other.  The groups separated and began dancing.  I sat on a little bench tapping my foot and smiling.  It’s important to keep a good game face throughout all these events.  Our every move is watched and scrutinized for later conversation. 

We're going to party,
karamu, fiesta, forever...

The German lady popped up and walked into the throng of dancing women.  She joined in and snapped pictures at the same time.  I got up and walked along the perimeter making small talk (as best I could over giant speakers) with some women.  The German lady outlasted me and I returned to the bench and resumed my smile.

Just then the men in the crowd pulled our friend Ahmed into the circle of dancers.  He resisted at first, but knew it was inevitable.  John laughed and clapped for his friend.  2 minutes later, John was also invited/pulled into the circle.  Now the men were satisfied and begin to sway and shuffle together.  I wanted to snap a picture of John in the group, but the men dance very closely and there was no way I was going to step into the middle of that.

Bling is in this season!

One man walked up to me and the British woman and said, “I am just so happy that you are here in my village!”  We were touched.  This nice elderly man was happy we were here.  

The German woman returned to take a breather.  Several kids saw her camera and began striking poses in front of her hoping she would take the bait.  Funny thing though, so did some of the men.  They began dancing and moving closer toward us with just that perfect “Covergirl” “Blue Steel” look.  She began snapping and soon she had more clients than she could handle.

I had noticed that the men were taking on some new dance steps as the evening progressed.  John and Ahmed had long left the enthusiastic dance group and were back on the sidelines with a good number of men.  The remaining dancers were spinning, leaping, shimmying as it were.

Don't forget to include flags of
your favorite soccer team!

The elderly man came to us again and said, “I am just so, so happy you are here in my village!  Welcome!  Welcome!”

Again, we were touched but this time as he swung by I smelled what seemed to be alcohol wafting in the air.  Alcohol?  But these are Muslims!

Ahmed told us that at times for weddings, the men will drink a little in order to loosen up for the dancing.  Ah, that would explain some of the Michael Jackson moves that began to take place as the evening wore on.

The British woman and the German woman had seen enough.  They told Ahmed that they wanted to return to their hotel.  Ahmed told us that he would make sure they arrived safely and then he would return to us.  We told them goodbye and maintained position.

And more dancing...

The bride and her party crossed over from the other side to dance with the groom and the other men.  A popular Nubian singer had been hired for the event so everyone was singing to the top of their lungs, dancing and having fun.

It was around 2 am at this time and Ahmed had been gone for 30 minutes.  Surely that was enough time to go and come back.  We shrugged and hung out.

Someone asked us if we can have good conversations at events like this.  The answer is an emphatic “no.” There’s simply no way to hear anything.  In a room the size of 30’x100’, they usually have 6-8 large speakers cranked until they have reached distortion. Smiling and sign language (of sorts) are the only forms of communication available.

We go to these events because it’s part of village life.  To understand village people, we have to be with them, near them, awake with them.  So we go, we sit, we get stared at and we try to keep our eyes pried open at 3 am…when Ahmed still hasn’t returned.

Now John’s tolerance for moments like this is FAR better than mine.  I’m so ready to go by now.  It seems that a very rich village man provided 15 cases of beer for the occasion.  24 cans in each.  By the way they were acting and dancing, I surmised they were on case #12 already.

The groom dancing before the crowd.

Our elderly village man once again stood in front of me and said, “Have I told you how happy I am that you are in my village?  Come dance with me!”  He began swaying back and forth and then some others joined in the invite.  John shook his head no and they instead danced around each other.  

Some men who had successfully avoided the mosh pit were now being picked up from their seat and being placed in the middle.  There was no fighting it now.

One man lit a Roman candle and held it in his hand.  One flame shot out.  When the remaining four did not he held the candle to his eye so he could see what was wrong.  OH MY WORD!  (“A Christmas Story” scene all over again, “You’ll shoot your eye out!”) He tossed it aside and it began flaring from the ground sending the bride running.

I wish I could say that was the first and last of the fireworks but it wasn’t.  A young boy had a cone that shot sparkles out of the top.  He lit it and set it in the middle of the crowd where flammable materials, curtains and people abound!  People would scatter and then return to dancing after the smoke had dissipated.

Around 4 am, Ahmed still hadn’t returned.  I looked at John and gave him the official, “I am so done” signal.  He understood and we began our goodbyes as we declined one last offer to dance.

We fell into bed around 4:30 am and slept until 11 the next morning.  I hadn’t had a drop of their special celebratory beverages, but my head pounded just the same.  I suppose it was a compilation of late night, loud music and social stress.

Ahmed stopped by the next day to explain what had happened.  As he was returning the 2 women to their hotel, a man from the wedding offered to give them all a boat ride back. (Their hotel was along the Nile.)  They accepted.  As he was casting off, he fell in the water.  Apparently, he had had some special dance juice, too.  Ahmed fished him out and had to make new arrangements which took far longer than he anticipated.  He apologized profusely for not returning.

We smiled and told him we understood.  Things happen.  LOTS of things happen when you go to a village wedding.  But we would only discover these things by being here, near and with.  Painful as it can be sometimes to be stretched so much, it’s necessary to be a part.

Jesus left the splendor of Heaven, confined Himself to human form and lived among us.  He did it so we could experience who God was in real life…in the grit and truth of our existence.  People were drawn to Jesus because He met them where they lived, mourned, celebrated and muddled through. 

The rope being offered to you in a pit can only be grasped when it is illuminated by light.  

We pray that we reflect the love and light of Jesus at every wedding, funeral, dinner together, teaching workshop, baby celebration and Eid. I also pray that we find discreet earplugs for future events and that I can poke out my mind’s eye from some of the dance moves I saw at Case #15. 
___________________
*Not his real name

Privileged to be here!