A wedding celebration

Day 2

June 7th

Saturday was an absolutely incredible day in the full meaning of the word. I literally spent the day eating with Stephanie the other intern and Krispijn (pronounced Chrish-pein) our new Dutch friend. (Ok, it wasn't just incredible due to the constant flow of food.) I was already on the fourth café of the day when Stephanie and I decided to explore the medina. Like all cities in Morocco, Rabat has an older, walled section called a medina, or city in Arabic. Some medinas date to jahaliyya or the period before the advent of Islam in 632 AD. Others, like that of Rabat, were built in the medieval ages. The medina is usually a twisting rabbit warren of stucco buildings, ancient mosques, and shop stalls selling everything from leather goods, cheap clothing, electronics, produce, jewelry, and cleaning supplies. Every city's medina has a different flavor. The medina of Casablanca is aimed towards selling traditional Moroccan crafts and is literally a maze of tiny, dirt alleyways. Rabat's medina is entirely different. First of all, it has boulevards that make it much easier to navigate. There are much fewer traditional goods to be bought and much, much more electronics. The streets are also paved with tiles which makes it a lot less dirty. In the more residential section of the medina, the buildings are white-washed with tile decorations and beautiful, wooden doors.

Stephanie and I were wondering around the residential section when we passed by a group of young women our age in red costumes sitting in front of a house where loud traditional music was issuing forth. We passed by and then decided to turn and around to ask what the special event was. A wedding! The women asked if we wanted to see what was going on, and just ushered us in. It was a traditional Moroccan-style house and once we passed through the tiled entry-way, we found the main celebration of the wedding in a small tiled courtyard, with rows of chairs and an awning. The space was packed with women, all wearing their finest. Every woman was wearing a djellaba or traditional gown, with coordinating headscarves and belts. There were so many colors and patterns and infinite details such as rows of tiny buttons and crystals and sequins everywhere! The bride, in a bejeweled red gown, was sitting as though she were a regal queen on a silver sequined dais in the front. To her left, a band of women were playing traditional music, mostly drums and singing. It was absolutely amazing! We thought that we would only watch for a few minutes but several of the women came over, took chairs from other guests, and bade us to sit down. Over and over, the women welcomed us, in French and Arabic. After sitting for awhile, the four women in costumes led us back into the entry-way and served us a huge platter of chicken and lamb tajine and Coca-cola. We were the only ones eating! It traditional Moroccan-style; we ate with our hands and chatted with Hanane, the leader of the group who spoke the most French. It turns out that they were the hired dancers for the wedding. Hanane is studying to be chef and she only does weddings on the side for pocket money. One of the first questions was whether or not we were married. We had a hilarious conversation with a lot of mute gesturing about Saida, another one of the dancers, who wanted us to look for a husband for her. "When?" she asked, twisting her ring finger as though she had an invisible ring. "When I go back to the States, I'll look for one for you," I promised. "Black or white, Saida?" the other girls demanded. "No, no, he'd better be white," she laughed. Stephanie asked if they had brothers so that we could switch which made all of us laugh.

When we were done eating, it was time for the girls to perform. Accompanied by a CD of traditional music, they led the bride (who had changed into a golden djellaba) to sit on a wooden palanquin, hand-carved for the occasion. They hoisted the palanquin up on their shoulders and started a choreographed dance, spinning, raising and lowering the palanquin. The four girls were wearing almost rodeo-style costumes, red and white, with capes. They used the capes to create a swirl of red and white around the bride and stopped to pose for several pictures in various creative poses. After the dance was finished, caterers brought everyone mint tea and sweets. Now it was time to dance. We were pulled up to the dance floor a few times, including by the adorable 10 year-old girls in attendance. Of course, we felt pretty awkward, just wearing jeans and having no clue how to dance well. A woman was video-taping the entire celebration, and I am sure that she has more than a few good shots of us, standing out like awkward foreigners in the middle of the wedding. After a little while longer, we left with Hanane and the other dancers as they were packing up their things. By that time, they had all changed into western, street-clothing. More guests asked us to stay, but we had to decline. We said good-bye to the girls, kissing them each once on the left cheek and then twice on the other cheek. We exchanged phone numbers and they promised that they would dance for free at either of our weddings if we got married in Morocco. Hanane kept repeating that we had entered into their hearts, and that we were truly special guests.

None of our Moroccan co-workers were particularly surprised when we told them the story. That kind of hospitality is normal here. And although we only stayed for two hours, we only saw a sliver of he celebration. Most weddings feature at least six or eight dresses for the bride. This one was also a fairly conservative celebration since the sexes were segregated. I have to wonderful what the men were doing during the whole time!