Engagement Party

One of my students, Nadia, invited me to her Engagement Party this past weekend.  I have been dying to put up the pictures, but I had to ask her permission first, since she is not wearing higab (head scarf) in any of them.  She said it was ok, so check them out under Egyptographs!

Nadia's friend met me at the tram station and we went together to see Nadia at the hairdresser.  When I first saw her, I didn't even recognize her!  It was a makeover to put all American proms and weddings combined to shame!  I would think my skin would decay under that amount of makeup, but makeup is huge here and is certainly an attention-getter when used in such quantities!  And it didn't stop with her face; oh no, they put powder all over her back and up and down her arms!  Then, her long, black hair unveiled and wound into a fancy updo complete with white plastic flowers, and finally a baby-pink princess dress!  All this for an Engagement?  I guess it just goes to show how important marriage is in Egyptian culture.  Or, better put, how important the IMAGE of marriage is.  

A fair number of hours before the party even began was consumed by the taking of pictures, so many pictures!  I guess this is true in the U.S. too, but maybe for the wedding itself.  Going to the photography studio was actually a blast, especially because I got to see all of the women in their fancy outfits.  Egyptian women sure know how to dress up!  Lost amid a sea of stunningly colored head-scarves, ball-gowns and shawls, I found myself intently studying the various styles of sideways, Spanish higabs, sometimes 3 or 4 different colored scarves wound together and pinned to look like roses.  Secretly I vowed to try this at home.  At first, I tried to keep myself from staring, but when I realized that I also was being started at, in my head it became this sort of mutual pact: I stare at you; you stare at me.  And this is not rude.  I guess.  

Arriving at the party was by far the craziest part of the entire evening.  My thought process went something like this: in some other country, I might be nervous about getting into a car with 8 or 9 people and a potentially drunk driver.  But this is Egypt, and these are Muslims, so the driver won't be drunk!  I was totally at ease as I squished into the backseat.  Almost immediately after the engine started and the _________________ (insert your favorite synonym for "ridiculously" here) loud Arabic music came screaming out of the speakers conveniently located right next to my ear, I knew I had been wrong.  I almost certainly would have been safer with a drunk driver.  Let me preface this by saying that Egypt is the last place in the world I would ever drive a car, simply because there are no traffic lights, no speed limit or regulations of any type, and lanes are formed whenever a car thinks he can squeeze into that 5-inch margin between a bus and a moped.  So picture this, and then picture the train of Engagement cars deciding that the best idea in the world would be to start to swerve wildly back and forth like we are driving on a sheet of ice in the middle of a hail storm (although I have a strange feeling that none of these Egyptian drivers have ever had the privilege of driving in New England during the winter).  I told myself not to panic, that surely if the 3-year-old child on her mother's lap in the front seat is not crying, then there is no need for ME to cry.  Just when I thought the music was already light-years beyond max volume, a song that the driver fancied just a little more than the rest came on and so the volume went up.  At this point, I couldn't distinguish this so-called song from what I imagine a helicopter crashing into the side of a metal building would sound like, but to make up for it, the driver began blaring on the horn and bouncing up and down in his seat to whatever he must have identified as the beat.  

*Sigh.*

The party was on the the beach, beside the Mediterranean and beneath some brightly-lit, frankincense-infused tents.  Then there was dancing!  I was still in shock from the car ride, but it was exhilarating shimmying around in a circle of girls and women, all clapping their hands, shaking their hips and letting out these cries that I have termed "wedding whoops" (the girls will make this high-pitched, screaming sound while fluttering their tongues back and forth so the sound vibrates, and then they finish it off with this WEEEEEEE! that I had previously thought could only be generated by New Year's noise makers.  My belly-dancing friends in Uruguay referred to this as the "Gawazi Call," but I don't know what it is here, although it is amazing!)

The next day, when I saw Nadia, she asked me how I liked the party.  "Wow, if that was your Engagement, I can't even imagine what your wedding will be like!" I exclaimed.  "Oh, I'm not ready for the wedding yet," she replied, "first I will have my Bridal Shower!"