Dec 23rd Khartoum Sudan
Part of the reason for my visit to Sudan this time of year is my cousin's wedding. Those of you who know me know that the word "cousin" is used very loosely, and in some cases does not denote any sort of blood relation at all (although in the Sudan that is nearly impossible). To those people I say, yes, I am actually related to this girl my blood, albeit distantly in the Western sense (but very closely in the Sudanese sense).
I somewhat naively did not think that this would be The Wedding of the Season. This was naive since my aunt (my cousin's mother) is married to a member of one of the large political families in the Sudan. Their political prominence is a result of their religious prominence, which stems from the days of the Mahdist revolt in the mid-19th century. Without delving too deeply into the history of the Sudan, there is a lot surrounding the family and they end up being a mix between the Kennedys, the Corleones (without the murder and extortion), and the royal house of Morocco (also less murder, I think). In other words, what else could the wedding possibly be other than the event of the year?
Sudanese weddings (for the uninitiated) are interminably long affairs spanning multiple days. Back in days of yore (say 30-40 years ago) a wedding could take as long as 40 days depending on the family and their stature. Nowadays a reasonably long wedding is more like a week. They go in roughly this order:
The 'Agid (or contract): wherein, once the two parties have agreed to shackle themselves together for all time, their representative (typically fathers) solemnly agree that the agreement has happened in the witness of friends, relations, grandees, and so on. Slightly roundabout, but that's how it's done. This takes about 10 minutes and for all intents and purposes, the actual marriage part is done. This is a prime place for spotting long lost friends, or just watching a sea of white robes drown the father of the bride. In the case of my cousin, this took place at the mosque near the Mahdi's tomb. The family set up a large enclosure filled with tables topped with fresh fruit, dates and nuts, and fresh juices. The tables were ranged around a large dais where the family sat, surrounded by people from the other big families. Government ministers, policy makers, and all around important folks mingled with the rest of us common folk. The crowd was enormous and loud so you couldn't hear anything going on. Usually, everyone says a prayer over the union that it may successful etc, but this time the whole thing went off without my even knowing, due to the number of people.
The Shayla (gift exchange): this is a more or less defunct section of the wedding. In economically better and simpler times, the groom's family would pile into cars and buses and head over to the bride's family home and present them with all sorts of gifts ranging from sacks of charcoal to fine silk garments (for the ladies of course!). In part it is also a method for the two families to share the financial burden of the wedding ("we'll pay for the stuff, you cook it and here are some dresses" in short). This tradition has fallen by the wayside for the most part, and when undertaken it often takes the form of cash.
The Hinna (bride and groom): These are two separate, but identical, events. At each event the person in question (bride or groom) is sat down and has their hands and feet stained with henna. For men it's just a flat coat on the soles of the feet, and a handful in each hand (or just the right) to stain the palms. For women it's much more elaborate geometric and arabesque shapes, which might be familiar from Indian weddings you may have seen. This all takes place against the backdrop of songs and some dancing, and family walking in and out. Technically all of the application of henna should be done by family members, although for women that has changed as designs have become much more elaborate. Professionals are brought in and all the women of the house avail themselves so that at the wedding, the bride, her mother, her sisters and cousins all have elaborate designs wrapping around their hands and wrists and their feet and ankles. If you play your cards right and keep going to weddings, you can be properly decorated almost all year long!
Raqs Al'Aroos (The Bride's Dance): In this step, the bride dances for the groom and her own female family members. The dance is very stylized and in many ways it is quite seductive, but unfortunately this tradition has almost completely disappeared. I haven't heard of one happening in many a year and most women nowadays don't even know how to do the dance itself. Moreover, as Sudanese culture skews more ridiculously conservative this sort of thing becomes even less likely. This is how the cultural heritage of a nation fades away and disappears completely.
Dukhla or Zafaf (the Wedding Party): This is the most recognizable part of the wedding to most foreign observers. It most closely approximates the wedding reception in a typical American wedding, in that everyone shows up, eats a meal and then is treated to the sight of the bride and groom entering as husband and wife for the first time. There's a wedding singer, and lots of dancing to Sudanese songs. It's a rare thing to hear any western music, and I have never seen a DJ at a Sudanese wedding (except for one time at one located in Great Neck, Long Island, but even then he was simply a warm up to the wedding singer).
In the case of my cousin's wedding, the dukhla took place in the evening at a large date palm grove on the Nile in Omdurman (the Mahdist capital of Sudan, on the western bank). A cool breeze blew through the palms and whipped up the enclosure. All the women at the wedding were freezing as they ate their dinners, and the men laughed with forced joviality. The first wedding singer wrapped up at 11p, and people took that as their cue to get to a warmer environment, despite assurances that there would be a second wedding singer carrying us through to 2a. So it was a much smaller group that danced with the second singer, and made their bleary eyed way back to their cars.
My poor cousin was so exhausted at the end of that night - and has been looking so frail throughout - that I couldn't help but worry. At least, I thought, the wedding was over - but it wasn't, there was one last step the next day.
Jirtik: There's no real translation for this ceremony, and it's a singularly Sudanese tradition with no roots, so far as I can tell, in the Muslim faith or Arab culture. The bride and groom (no doubt fresh from the presume consummation of their marriage) enter (again to much fanfare) and are congratulated by friends, relatives and assorted well-wishers, as they sit on a bed covered in red cloth. The bride is covered in a red shawl, and the groom has red headband with a brass crescent moon on it tied onto his head. The couple's oldest female relations sit with them, while the younger married women surround them, and smear their heads with a sandalwood paste (there are other things, but the sandalwood stands out). They are given a large basket with dates and rice and candy in it and pass handfuls back and forth to each other. Then they are given a bowl (or nowadays, a glass) of milk which they each drink from, and then the older women will spray them with some of the milk. It's my belief that this is actually part of a very old fertility ritual. It may date back all the way to pharaonic times. This certainly explains why the old women are involved, the red sheets (come on, do I have to spell it out for you?), the milk, and so on. It's really quite fascinating when you think about it.
My cousin's jirtik was held at the family farm about 35 miles south of the capital. It was set to start at 2p which had my mother yelling at me to get ready around 1p. Upon arrival we found no sense of urgency at all. Ladies were sitting around in the large living room - or perhaps lounging is the better expression. My Dad and I sat in the garden waiting for our 2p (3p, 4p?) departure. An hour and a half later, my Dad got in a car headed over and sold me out. Two hours after that, we had almost finished loading tea cakes and nuts into the last remaining cars, and the groom had just arrived. So it was that we found ourselves finally heading to the family farm at around 5p.
The far is set far enough back from the road that you begin to think that it doesn't exist. The way there is off the main road and onto an unmarked dirt road that meanders through an unremarkable dusty field. Eventually you are actually met by a traffic cop who directs you to another traffic cop who directs you to the farm itself. For miles around there isn't much to see, except for in the distance behind the farm where there is a minaret that tells you that there is a small village or town back there somewhere.
There were a lot of people (again) at the farm, all invited (how else would you know to come all the way out here). They were waited upon by an army of waiters and cooks, and watched by the local yokels - who stood at a distance and only dared come closer at night closed in around the mango trees (I've always wanted to say that). The Sudanese contingent was supplemented by some visiting poobah's, most notably the British ambassador. Her Excellency was accompanied by a retinue of crewcut military types. All no doubt good Yorkshire boys from the Royal Marines, they ranged around the garden with eagle eyes sharp, on the lookout for malfeasance of any sort. I think they were slightly disappointed at how friendly everyone was, offering them seats and food and drinks and such (or maybe extremely suspicious). One of them asked one of the family hangers on what was going on, and was met with a complete lack of understanding.
The crowd was composed of women, mostly, in fantastical peacock colors surrounding the singer (again), with their back to the "couple's bed". They in turn were surrounded by a cordon of white clad older men, beyond whom sat the "young lions", as they do at the edge of any pride.
Typically this is women's ceremony with very few men present outside of immediate family (silk and gold abound and you can tell it's the real thing because it doesn't gleam, it just sits matte and glowing). But it was the bride's great uncle, who - in a stunning turn of affairs! - performed the jirtik ceremony.
We drove back to my aunt's house afterward and said our good-byes to the couple, who were headed off to their honeymoon. My poor cousin was exhausted and it only showed slightly in her face, because she's a classy girl. The farewell was tearful, surprisingly so, and I felt overcome with the need to give them advice, which is my own wedding tradition. At the end of the wedding I think we all felt a little let down and empty.
