The month before school starts (August) is wedding season here in our city. The celebrations usually take place Thursday through Sunday starting at around 10:00 pm and lasting until the wee hours of the morning.
Our friend, Sadik*, had invited us to join him and his wife at a wedding a couple weeks back. I mentioned it in an earlier post. We had a good time and told him so. He must have believed us because he invited us to join him for another wedding the following weekend.
Now I'm all for getting out in the culture and being among the people. After all, that IS the point. However, along with all this opportunity comes some pretty debilitating "bonuses" that happen. Take this wedding for example.
Sadik arrived with his car at 9:30 pm. John wore his jalibaya (men's tunic) and I wore some of my blinging American clothes. (My abiya was dirty.) Sadik told us that he needed to pick up some of his family members on the other side of town before the wedding. We said no problem. We made it through the traffic noticing that the streets were filling up with other wedding parties along the Nile's edge at local clubs.
After about 15 minutes we arrived at Snob Café (not kidding) where we were supposed to meet his family. Sadik made a few inquiries and found out that they hadn't arrived yet. He waited about 10 minutes and then told us that they would come later.
We went back across town to a club that we hadn't been to before. You could hear the music pounding as we approached the entrance. Sadik's wife spotted us and waved us over. She greeted me with four kisses and took my hand. Sadik pointed to one door and told me that the women were in there. I told John goodbye knowing that we'd be separated the rest of the evening.
At the door, we were greeted by this cute little old man that had been at the last wedding. We'll call him Samir*. He was in his 60s with a toothless smile. Sadik told us that he was deaf and mute, but he communicated through his own version of sign language. It seems he attends all the weddings he can so he's an expected fixture at these events.
Samir smiled broadly as we walked in, handed me a juice box and pointed to the front. I took the juice and followed his directions.
Sadik's wife led me to a group of benches near the front of the stage where the DJ was set up. Lights were flashing from a giant decorative heart overhead. The DJ had Amr Diab blaring and approximately 1.3 million children were running around in their best clothes having a really good time.
There were already many guests present (at least 300) and it seemed that all 600 eyes were following me as I made made my way to the women's section. I was greeted by two women, a mother and daughter. They shook my hand curtly until I greeted them in Arabic. Then their eyes lit up and they gave me a kiss and insisted that I sit down. (I guess all that brain-numbing study does pay off…)
I had just settled in as the staring subsided when Samir appeared at my row. He smiled and walked toward me. I didn't know what he wanted. He pointed to the stage and began to dance. Then he gestured that I should join him.
All eyes were now back on me as we had this exchange. Um…. Sadik's wife told him (or rather motioned) that I didn't want to dance. He persisted. More eyes turned toward us. His arms began to flap wildly. I held my ground. Sadik's wife finally took him by the arm and told him that I wouldn't be dancing and that he should go back to juice box duty. I breathed a sigh of relief.
The ladies patted me on the back as if to say, "It's okay. We understand." The music continued to play and we all waited for the bride and groom to arrive. The clubs stay open only until 12:30 a.m. which means the bride and groom have to arrive before that if they want to have any party time.
It was now 11:45 p.m. and I asked the lady next to me if she thought the wedding couple would make it in time. "Insh'allah," (If God wills) she says. Shortly after, live drums began to play and a troop of young men dressed in matching outfits led the way for the bridal party. They had arrived in time. Everyone rose to their feet and began clapping.
The bride's mother walked ahead of them throwing candy out into the crowd. Alongside her was a boy off the street holding a handful of Spongebob balloons he hoped to sell to the gazillion children.
The couple danced their way to the front of the stage where they took a seat on the decorated bench. It's at this point that the wedding guests all begin to make their way to the front to congratulate the couple. I waited for John and Sadik to come so that we could go together. However, Sadik didn't see us so he and John went alone.
Sadik's wife took my hand and told me we could go up also. Just then, Samir arrived. He thought I was ready to dance. I told him no thank you. He then understood that we were going to greet the bride and groom so he took it upon himself to part the way. It was of Moses proportion. He began swatting his arms back and forth yelling at the crowd in an indistinguishable voice. However, they seemed to know what was happening.
Once again, all eyes were on me as we walked through the "Red Sea" o' people. We made our way up the stairs and Samir still wasn't finished. He began pushing on my back so that I would get to the front. I was trying to not make a spectacle and be respectful of those already in line. Samir didn't see it that way. He moved two small children and handed me to the bride's mother who in turn handed me to the bride. I was now 2 feet from the bride (one I didn't know) so I gathered my composure and congratulated her. She was as surprised as I was, but graciously accepted my greetings.
I turned to walk back down the stairs where Samir awaited me. He cleared the path toward the dance floor, but I quickly skirted my way back to my seat. Sadik's wife had somehow survived the frenzy with me and had arrived back at the same time.
A lady handed me a bag with two bottles of Dasani water in it. "For you," she said. I thanked her profusely and smiled at her thoughtfulness. The greetings waned a bit so the groom made his way to his group of friends near the front of the stage and began to dance. They hoisted him on their shoulders, threw him up in the air and danced all around him.
The bride danced with her friends up on stage, although briefly. The heat was still quite oppressive and she had on many layers. (Here the bride doesn't carry a bouquet but a decorated fan which is WAY more practical.)
I noticed someone poking my back. I turned to see who it was and was greeted by a girl about 12. She smiled and said, "Whassyourname?" I introduced myself and asked her hers. Soon word got around that the white lady was approachable. Now a continuing stream of pokes, giggles and handshakes followed.
A few adult women also came by to greet me and say hello to the foreigner. They were extremely kind and gracious, but always with the glint in their eye that says, "What is she doing here?"
It's novelty to invite a foreigner (especially American) to social events. I am for all intents and purposes the Paris Hilton of Aswan. But is that why I'm here? Of course not. It's far too difficult and stressful to make this a full-time occupation for the sake of being wanted.
Being different all the time in every situation is awkward and tiring. The staring is at times brutal. (Not considered impolite in this culture.) At events like these, I'm the only one not wearing a head covering. I'm the only one not brown-skinned. I'm the only non-Egyptian. I'm the only Christian in the room.
Wait. I am the ONLY Christian in the room. I scan through the crowd and look at each individual. I pause, breathe a prayer for her and search for the next face.
"Jesus, be real to them," I pray.
THAT is why I'm here and that is why I will continue my career as Wedding Guest.
_______________________________
*Not his real name
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