The "Wedding"

Friday night was the "wedding." Well, acutally it wasn't really the wedding... it was a series of rituals and traditions, leading up to the most grand reception...

At about 5:00 we all piled into taxis and wound our way through the streets of Amman in a caravan, arriving at Salma's house in a tumble. We were all priviliged to be invited to attend the "asking of the hand" ceremony, which is normally reserved for family and the closest friends.

Salma lives in an apartment building, occupied by her aunt and uncle, and other family. We were ushered into her aunt's home, presented with tea, and stood around chatting (and checking out the unbelievable dresses and hair and jewelry and makeup of the Jordanian beauty queens... we didn't hold a candle to them... I think it must be genetic).

Finally, we heard the crash of drums, and the shrieking, throaty songs of singers approaching the home. The groom's family was arriving in a procession, to formally ask for Salma's hand in marriage. People crushed to see, as a half-dozen traditional singers and musicians from Northern Palestine approached, announcing the groom's arrival. The noise and energy was rising with every second, as the women started ululating (a high warbling, trill sound, rolling your toungue back and forth over your teeth, ending with a "HIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!").

Basel and his family arrived, asked for Salma's hand, which was approved (I mean, they were already married!), at which point Salma's entered the room, and the room simply exploded. People were dancing and singing, the musicians were pounding, flashbulbs were popping, and smiles were cutting everyone's faces in two.

Then the procession began... we were all to follow each other in cars, honking and singing and clapping, to the Amman Grand Hyatt (yes, this where the bomb exploded last November) for the reception. "How do we find a ride? Should we call a cab?," we were asking among the din. Cars would reel by, and if there was space, they would throw open their door, and you'd do a running leap... all in keeping with the celebratory spirit!

The Grand Hyatt had extremely tight security. Our bags were x-rayed, we walked through a metal detector, and everyone was frisked and patted down (the women behind a wooden screen). When we arrived, it turned out that we were actually sending Salma and Basel upstairs to rest, and we had about 2-1/2 to ourselves before the reception.

I sat down, to relieve my feet, when all of a sudden I was whisked away by Basel's sister, uncle and aunt, brought to their home, fed tea and cranberry juice, and made to feel like one of their family. The people here are so wonderfully gracious and generous.

At one point, the conversation turned to politics, which turned to George Bush, which turned to 9/11. This was so pointed and heated, and I had to remind myself to just listen and ask prompting questions, that I wanted to understand their perspective and narrative. The long and the short of it was that if Al-Qaeda sliced open such a superpower, doesn't that in fact make them a super-superpower? They feel sorry for us because our rights are being taken away one by one, and we don't seem to realize or care. The reason why Bin Laden had not been caught was because it was actually the American government who orchestrated the attacks... Rumsfeld actually, and Bush was too dumb to know. This sort of attack requires so much information, and so much expertise, that it was obvious to them that the American pilots' machinery was jammed, and the planes were directed remotely by the American military. An interesting point was that they were certain that there was no plane that actually crashed into the Pentagon.

It was heated, but fascinating.

At the end, we stood up, embraced each other as people, and left for the reception. The division here between people and politics is unlike anything I've ever experienced.

After another search and frisk, we entered the ballroom, which was decorated to befit royalty. There were hundreds of guests, sitting at tables with centerpieces of several-foot high white branches, dripping with strings of crystals and orchids. Napkins were wrapped in crystal prayer beads...

In an effort to make a very long story, only slightly long, the highlights were - Salma and Basel descended the staircase amid clusters of Northern Palestinian musicians, hundreds of dancing, singing, clapping and warbling guests. The wedding cake was at least 5 feet high, and cut with a sword. The food was laid out in a separate courtyard, under the stars, with more than a dozen tables serving every Middle Eastern delicacy and treat you could ever imagine... But the most noticable thing, to me, was that after a week of festivities, events, and celebrations, lasting all day and night, each one attended by more guests and becoming more elaborate, Salma and Basel had nothing but joy in their faces the whole time. It was contagious, making my face ache from smiling, and my eyes brim with tears.

This morning, Sunday, I believe they are leaving for their honeymoon - two weeks in Malaysia. I would imagine that they'll fall into a deep sleep for the first week...

And now my dusty, dirty travels begin...