Many ways to say I do

By Fayza Hassan
WEDDING 2001: Gala is getting married right after Eid and the truth is, she is simply beside herself. Gone are the long leisurely mornings at the office during which she made plans on the telephone with her girlfriends; nowadays, she is spending all her waking time running around or calling tradesmen and feels that she is getting nowhere. She is sure that the carpenter will not deliver the dining room table in time, nor the mirrors for the built-in wardrobes she ordered ages ago. Her mother will have to take care of that while Gala is honeymooning in the Bahamas. For the time being, she has to worry about the wedding dress, which is not even half finished. She has already been through three long and painful fittings, and still the lace does not sit comfortably on her bust. She should have listened to her mother and bought that dress in London. It wasn't bad at all. It looked expensive, but it cost much less than the ridiculous amount her mother is forking out to Loula Antonio for a dress that may not turn out to be as wonderfully unique as the couturière claims it will. If only she could get the drapé movement of the lace right.
Only two weeks left, Gala tells herself, as she flips through her diary. What has she achieved? She has the flowers organised. That is one worry out of the way. Ismet Sukkar is charging an eye and a tooth but at least she is quick. She understood at once what Gala wanted and has proved helpful in every way. Thanks to her, the dais on which she and Sherif will sit to receive the guests' good wishes will be rather special after all.
At first Gala had wanted a gazebo type of kosha (the low platform on which a love seat is placed for the new couple) with grape vines tumbling down from the roof, lending the scene a bucolic charm. She and her groom would have been dressed as if for a garden party: she, with a huge white organza cloche hat, and he like the Great Gatsby, with a panama. Her future mother in-law had almost burst an artery when Gala told her about the striped pants she wanted Sherif to wear. They had had their very first fight. Well, it had been brewing for some time anyway. The young woman did not mind Sherif's mother understanding who was going to be the boss, and the sooner the better.
To compound her unhappiness, the stupid maitre d' at the hotel had looked at her as if she was asking him to bring a space ship into the ballroom, when she explained the idea of the gazebo. He could get her and the groom to pop out of a plastic rosebud, he could make them ride in on Arab steed or a camel, organise an old-fashioned procession complete with palanquin and torch-bearers, supply authentic copies of King Farouk's and Queen Farida's thrones for the kosha, but there was no way he could provide a mock wrought-iron gazebo at such short notice, with or without vine leaves. That had been three months ago. Gala had stormed out of the hotel and would not have returned had it not been for the stairs. She needed stairs for her father to give her away, it was the new fashion, and this particular hotel had the right flight of steps. Coming down on her father's arm, her dress shining with the fires of a thousand rhinestones, she would be a spectacle to behold. Exactly like the movies. She was not about to give up the staircase even if she had to forget the gazebo and the striped pants to boot.
Ismet had understood Gala's fury at being denied, and had offered to arrange the dais herself. She would make it of straw, in the shape of a nest, covered in white roses and studded with trained white pigeons that would fly across the room as the bride and groom prepared to take their places on two delicate white bamboo chairs where they would sit to have their dinner at a small table, intimately, yet in full view of the 500 guests. Gala had liked the idea, especially the part with the pigeons. That way the pastoral theme would not be lost. Could she hold a white dove instead of the boring bride's bouquet? She had asked Ismet. Of course they would have to work out a scenario for throwing the bird in the air instead of the posy, but Ismet assured her that she would think of something.
The ballroom was going to be decorated with delicate bunches of roses and assorted blossoms the colour of the bridesmaids' dresses, which were pale pink with a touch of gold. The same hues had been picked up for the tablecloths, tableware and napkins.
Gala had gone back to the maitre d' and this time, he had been much more reasonable, agreeing to her every wish. Next she had had to solve the problem of the dancer. She had agonised for weeks and finally settled on Ursula, a Russian blonde who introduced some ballet variations into her routine, making it slightly classier. The young woman had no penchant for belly dancing, but her friends would say that her groom's family were cheap if they did not produce at least one entertainer; singers were out, really too loud for her taste, and as for the laser show, she found it vulgar beyond description. She had had to agree to the procession of rowdy waiters accompanying the wedding cake with their torches lest the maitre d' lose all interest in the arrangements, but that was all she was going to tolerate, she told him firmly. If she could have her way, she would have preferred a marriage in a large mansion somewhere in the countryside with all the traditional pomp and ceremony that used to be the trademark of such affairs, the guests arriving in horse-drawn carts while a band played old-fashioned tunes on the lawn. The idea of anything taking place in the countryside had appalled her father-in-law, whose extended family still lived in a village somewhere in the Delta. He wanted no reference to this unfortunate lineage, as his wife wished their new city friends and relations to completely forget about it. So did her own parents, for that matter.
Gala felt that the wedding was more for them than for her and Sherif. Besides, no one she knew had a mansion in the countryside, only houses in fashionable beach resorts. She had heard of one wedding there, where the bride and groom and their guests had arrived in beach buggies. She would have loved that instead of the five-star hotel, a choice that, according to her best friend, showed no originality whatsoever.
The zaffa had been another bone of contention with her in-laws-to-be. Gala wanted the same little ballerinas she had seen at her friend Sherry's wedding, but again her father-in-law had butted in, saying that it was ridiculous. A zaffa, he had told her, was a traditional wedding procession. You could take it or leave it, but he did not want his colleagues at the office to make fun of him, saying that he was trying to emulate the khawagas. Ballet in the zaffa was simply not an Egyptian custom.
Since he was paying for the wedding and had really not skimped on the buffet, which included (among other delicacies) caviar, lavish heaps of smoked salmon and ostrich filets, Gala had acquiesced to his wish, changing her course and insisting on the authentic thing, She had accompanied her father-in-law to Mohamed Ali Street, where they had hand-picked the musicians, dancers and singers.
The bridesmaids' dresses were ready and the henna night had been arranged; she and her girlfriends were going to be decorated with the beautiful flower and bird motifs that Samantha would draw on their arms and legs with special henna she was bringing over from the Sudan. The hairdresser was already booked both for the Katb Al-Kitab (writing of the marriage contract) and the wedding. Gala had thought that Katb Al-Kitab would be a simple affair, but all the men in Sherif's family wanted to attend and her father had decided that he could do no less for his own family. Finally there were going to be about 50 people in their rather cramped apartment. There would be the traditional sharbat (syrup), of course, and pastries; for those who stayed on, there would be tea and maybe something stronger later for the men's business associates. Gala was happy to let her mother take care of the arrangements of this particular event. She had only had to choose the flowers, and again, Ismet had been a darling, coming all the way to the house to see where she should place the bouquets. Things were looking up after all, Gala decided. If only Loula could get the lace right.
Gala had met Sherif at university. They had liked each other and during their senior year, Sherif's family had visited Gala's. They had discussed the financial aspects of the marriage, the dates of the engagement and wedding parties; a few months later, Gala had gone flat hunting with her future mother-in-law. From then on, Gala had taken things into her own hands, begging days off work to furnish her new apartment. She had preferred to do it alone, being painfully aware of the difference in taste that separated her from her parents and Sherif's. It had not always been easy, but she had almost always had her own way in the end.
Gala seldom gave a thought to the fact that, as an Egyptian girl, she was being granted incredible freedom, infinitely more than her grandmother, who had been married off without being consulted, or even than her own mother, though the poor dear had thought at the time that she was having a "modern" wedding.
CHILD BRIDE: Huda Sha'rawi recounts in her memoirs the painful circumstances of her wedding to her paternal cousin, who was already married and old enough to be her father: her mother accepted his proposal on her behalf for reasons Huda, then barely 13, could not have fathomed. The year was 1892, and refusing would have "disgraced the name of [her] father and destroyed [her] poor mother... who might not have survived the shock of [her] refusal," in the words of Said Agha, the man appointed to look after the Sha'rawi children.
Huda wept profusely and let things happen, but eventually, "the three nights of wedding festivities with their music and gaiety expelled [her] melancholy and kept [her] from thinking of what was to come."
"On the night of the wedding ceremony," she writes, "the rapt attention focused upon me, especially by my friends, increased my joy so that I almost leapt with delight while I donned my wedding dress embroidered in thread of silver and gold. I was spellbound by the diamonds and other brilliant jewels that crowned my head and sparkled on my bodice and arms...
"Presently, the singing girls appeared to escort me. My attendants supported me while the heavy jewels pressed down on my head and the wedding dress hung heavy on my small frame." Dazzled and almost stumbling, Huda walked, head bowed beneath the tiara's weight, between rows of candles, breathing in the rich scents of incense and flowers that permeated the air, as she was led to the grand salon of her parents' house. A throng of women dressed for the occasion awaited her. There she was made to sit on the bridal throne, decorated with flickering candles and masses of flowers. The guests placed bouquets of roses in her hands and at her feet while two maids brought the shawls presented to her by her mother's friends. "Removing them from their velvet packets one by one, they unfolded the shawls and spread them out one after the other, announcing the name of the donor, repeating in succession, 'May bounty be granted to her.' After all had been laid in a great pile, they were bundled and carried away." A dancer appeared right after the shawl-viewing ceremony, dancing in front of the women one at a time. The guests took out coins, which they moistened with their tongues and pasted them on the dancer's forehead and cheeks. Huda, enthralled by the spectacle, had quite forgotten its cause. "Suddenly a commotion erupted outside the great hall. The dancer rushed out emitting a string of zaghrudas, the tremulous trills hanging in the air after her. To the roll of drums the women hastened out of the room, or slipped behind curtains, while the eunuch announced the approach of the bridegroom."
Supported by her weeping friends, she was led towards the groom after a woman had lowered a veil of silver thread over her head "like a mask concealing the face of a condemned person approaching execution." The bridegroom entered the room and, after praying two rak'as on "a mat of red velvet embossed with silver," he came to her, "and lifting the veil from [her] face kissed [her] on the forehead." He then led her back to the bridal throne, where he sat beside her. "All the while I was trembling like a branch in a storm," wrote Huda. "When the customary goblets of red sorbet were offered, I was unable to taste the ritual drink."
The next morning, when she looked out of her window the big wedding tent was gone and so was every trace of the festivities. The garden she loved so much had been ruined where the tent had been raised, a symbol of the desolation she now felt in her heart.
Huda's marriage arrangements were slightly different from those of women of her generation in so far as she remained in her parents' house, in a special apartment appointed for the couple. The reasons for this decision were both her young age and the fact that her husband had an established household with his first wife and children in the country.
A PERFECT MATCH: A mere 20 years later, the marriage of Esther Akhnoukh Fanous (who was to become one of Huda's closest associates in the feminist struggle) to her second cousin, Fahmi Bey Wissa, was celebrated in Assiut under entirely different circumstances. Esther was 17, Fahmy 29 and an Oxford graduate. The families arranged the marriage but Esther was duly consulted. She did not know her cousin very well; she liked the idea that he was known as "a smart young man about town," and therefore agreed, but only after speaking to him. After a year's engagement, the wedding took place, an account of which is provided by S H Leader in his book Modern Sons of the Pharaohs: A Study of the Manners and Customs of the Copts of Egypt. Describing it as "unequalled in oriental magnificence since the spacious days of [Khedive] Ismail," the author believed this wedding to be the perfect illustration of "how the native customs assert themselves on such occasions in spite of the use that is made of some of the Western modes of life." Fahmi and Esther's son, Hanna F Wissa, reproduced Leader's account in his own book, Assiout, the Saga of an Egyptian Family: "Eastern beauty and Western science blended harmoniously in the gorgeous marquee (suwan) with the myriads of ancient oil lamps and the gorgeous modern electric chandeliers. In this pavilion no fewer than 8000 guests were entertained on one night. Khedivial banners and a magnificent triumphal arch adorned the streets leading to the bridegroom's house. The preparations were said to have cost LE20,000. The entertainment lasted for three days continuously and the guests who came from all over the country included native pashas, beys, omdas, sheikhs and other notables, besides European government officials and a host of minor folk.
"On the first day, eight hundred village notables were entertained to lunch and dinner à la Turque, by the parents of the bride; in the evening, Abdulhalim Effendi Nahas, the renowned singer, and Sami Effendi Shawas, the violinist, displayed their talent to the delight of a select audience...
"On another day the guests from Cairo and Alexandria and many from Assiut, including native and foreign officials, distinguished residents and their families were entertained to lunch at the Wissa mansion, and in the evening they attended a special reception given by the bride's mother, Mme Akhnoukh Fanous, whose house was beautifully decorated with flowers and coloured lights. At 8 pm the guests began to arrive, being greeted by the band of the Wissa school with Arabic and European airs; and at 9 pm, Fethy Pasha the mudir [governor] of Assiut led the way to supper. After the toast and speech making ended, the male guests proceeded to the Wissa mansion to hear Arabic songs by Mohamed Effendi El-Saba, accompanied by Mohamed Effendi Omar's orchestra.
"Another day was devoted to the entertainment of the native ladies, who lunched with the bride's family, the Wissa meantime entertaining hundreds of native villagers, Muslim and Christian, to a Turkish luncheon.
"On the afternoon of each of the three days, splendid displays of horsemanship were given in front of the bride's house by members of leading local families on rich caparisoned steeds, each performance ending with a procession around the house, the horsemen beating drums and shouting 'May the house of Fanous flourish for ever.'
"At 8 pm on the evening of the wedding itself, the procession, preceded by the band and torch-bearers and a contingent of mounted police and composed of over a hundred carriages, proceeded to the large marquee. Here it was met by Coptic choristers chanting a hymn of welcome, who accompanied the bride and her party to the dais, where the wedding ceremony was performed by the Coptic bishops and clergy...
"After the ceremony which lasted an hour, Khalil Moutran, the native poet, and others recited beautiful epithalamia in prose and verse.
"At 11 pm a sumptuous supper was first served to three hundred guests and afterwards to several thousands of the poorer people, the feasting going on until 2 am. The Muslim and Christian ladies were privately entertained meantime in the house. The festivities were not over until 5 am, when they ended in singing and dancing. The couple honeymooned in Alexandria."
PLUS �A CHANGE... Until fairly recently, upper-class women were more or less secluded and young people of different sexes had no chance to meet, let alone fall in love and talk of marriage. Weddings were invariably arranged, through relatives or professional matchmakers. In theory at least, modern educated young people are now free to choose their life's partner. As a consequence, many of the old customs have disappeared. There are no longer extensive visits to the hammams during which women could chat at leisure about their sons and daughters or those of their acquaintances and thus plant the seeds of future unions, nor is there any need for the traditional matchmakers -- although many gregarious souls avail themselves of the wide circle of their relations to play a similar role benevolently. Appearances notwithstanding, however, the principle, not surprisingly in a deeply conservative society, has remained the same and the choice of a partner is still left to the families, albeit through different networks.
IMPRESSING THE NEIGHBOURS: While the procession of the bride's furniture moving slowly towards her groom's house for all to see the splendour of her trousseau is no longer fashionable, the material possessions of the future couple are still determined by their respective families' desire to impress, a desire complied with by the newlyweds who promptly invite their friends (who also happen to be the children of their parents' friends) for a guided tour of their new home. The same rule applies in the arrangements made for the engagement and wedding ceremonies, Katb Al-Kitab, Leilet Al-Henna... And, not unlike Huda Sha'rawi's wedding shawls exposed conspicuously in front of the guests, the shabka (set of jewellery bought by the groom as part of the bride-price) is duly put on show, often on closed-circuit television, and lit up by laser beams, during the engagement reception.
Little room is left to the wishes and creativity of the young couple, except in insignificant details, if and when they can be worked out within the rigid framework dictated by the social environment. More or fewer pearls and rhinestones on the wedding dress, a favourite colour scheme in the decoration of the ballroom, a disc jockey instead of a live band: these are the only momentous pronouncements they may be called upon to make.
Five-star hotels, social clubs and floating restaurants have become the only venues acceptable to the middle and upper classes of this age. The large number of guests and the constraints of smaller dwellings have contributed to the total disappearance of the home weddings of the past, which allowed for improvisation in the décor and were a unique occasion for the women of the family to show off their culinary talents. These are occasionally displayed by loving female relatives, however, on Leilet Al-Henna, during which the bride-to-be entertains her female friends, no longer with singers, dancers and oud players, but with pop music and an expert -- and expensive -- henna artist who, instead of the red paste with which traditional brides and grooms used to stain their hands and feet, draws, with a special quill, intricate figures on the bride's and guests' bodies. Here too, the number and extreme convolution of the designs are clear indications of the steep fee charged by the artist. She competes in that domain with the beauty parlours and hairdressers, which make fortunes out of removing unwanted hair and pinning veils over artistically disheveled curls.
TELL ME HOW YOU WED: All the very different weddings that will be celebrated in the weeks to come have in common the fact that they are in no way a private arrangement between a man and a woman, but rather a social event of momentous importance, the tone of which has been set by their elders and which will serve as a vehicle to reinforce the social status of the families vis-à-vis the social and professional circles in which they move.
Whether among rich or poor, more than any other "public" occasion, a wedding in the family sends a clear message of status and personal identity. It is in this light that one should view the variations that have occurred in wedding "customs" over the years. Cinema and television have provided innumerable models to draw upon while emulating one's betters, which remains the most potent incentive. The style may vary, but the purpose will always be the same.
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