Egypt through the Back Door
Yes folks, our friend Rick Steves would be proud of me today. It could be said that I have now seen Egypt through the back-est of all doors, the Fayoum. The Fayoum is an oasis in the desert about an hour's drive from Cairo. This is on Egyptian time, however, so it is really a 3 hour trip that involves waiting for your cab driver, taking the Metro a half hour to where the cab driver has decided to wait for you, waiting for someone whose brother is a police officer, and stopping at a mosque just outside Cairo to make Friday prayers (Friday is the Islamic Sunday). But I've learned to take this all in stride.
Why was I headed to the Fayoum, you ask? For a wedding! This is exactly the type of stuff you don't get to see as a tourist so I was in, no matter how early I had to get up in the morning. So I met my friends Sarah and Crystal, along with another woman named Sharon in front of the McDonald's in Cairo's equivalent of Times Square. We went on the journey I described above and finally made it to a village in the middle of the oasis (the oasis is rather large). We crept through rough, unpaved streets barely wide enough for the cars and arrived at the home of the Aunt of our hostess, Abeer. Abeer was one of Sarah's teachers last semester at school. Her niece was the one getting married. Here we met some of Abeer's closest relations and were fed the best Egyptian food I've eaten so far. On the table was a large plate piled with homemade flatbread and a variety of things to eat with it. There were grilled and fried fish stuffed with herbs, spices and garlic, stewed meat, a spicy tomato salad and rice as only Egyptians make it. The rice is medium to short grain. It sticks together but is still somehow crispy and al dente at the same time. Fabulous. As the honored guests at the house, we of course ate first while the kids and old women hungrily watched. This felt a little odd, as I realized that they had put all the food they made on the table for us and they just kept putting more on our plates. But in the end they had enough to go around and I didn't feel so bad. Abeer's family members were impressed by the manner in which we ate, which was in a word(s), just like them. I think they were worried that the rich Americans would be all high falutin' and eat with a fork and knife. No sir! We decimated those (whole) fish with our fingers. Anyway, that's enough about the meal.
We had a relaxing afternoon sitting around with the family. Us girls became especially close with Abeer's young daughter and niece. They buzzed around us like cute little flies. At one point, we went into a different part of the house with just the other women. They were sitting around listening to Arabic pop music and looking somewhat apprehensive. When Abeer told us why we were a bit surprised. They were all happy for the niece as she was marrying a man who has a steady job in Italy, but they were a bit nervous about something that would happen the next morning. The Fayoum is still a very traditional culture, and at ten o'clock sharp the next morning, half the village would be gathered outside the groom's door for the display of a bloodied sheet. If there is no blood on the sheet it spells disaster for the bride and her entire extended family, Abeer included. So the day was bittersweet. What if she didn't bleed?
Sidebar: How many women throughout history have been disgraced and probably killed because they didn't bleed on their wedding day? I mean, the hymen can be broken in any number of ways. And then there are the women born without hymens! Sigh...this is not to say that she would be killed in modern day Egypt. At least not in this well to do family in the Fayoum. In other more far flung parts of Egypt, maybe so.
After a quick trip to the local cemetery for the Cairo wing of the family to read the Qur'an at the grave of Abeer's father, the wedding festivities began. It commenced with a crazy caravan to the beauty shop/photo place where the bride was putting on the final touches of her ensemble and taking photos with the groom, whom she did not know. This was an arranged marriage, like most marriages in the Middle East still are. The whole way there the cars were honking and driving crazy, taking extra loops around roundabouts, flashing their lights. This is typical in Egypt for weddings and when your soccer team wins a game. After a big match, all the cars in the streets of Cairo seem to honk in unison. Anyway, we all went to the photo shop and parked in front, blasted some Arabic pop, and started ululating. That's the lalalalalalalala noise many Arab women make at happy times. There was much dancing and ululating, especially when those crazy westerners (us) started dancing with the little kids. Anyway, the bride eventually emerged from the photo shop and the crowd went nuts. Guns were fired. So, the caravan set out for the hall where the wedding was to be held. We got there to find 500 people from the village waiting for us. There was a band, dancers, and a large inflatable half-shell that made the bride and groom look like Venus in that Botticelli painting. They basically just stood there, smiled for the film crew and enjoyed the performance with beatific looks on their faces, even when some of the groom's family members started spraying fireworks into the crowd and releasing soap suds that looked like snow. These guys would just put a fountain cone into the middle of the dancers and light it off. And no one cared!
Then, after a brief foray into the wrong wedding reception we went into the hall. Have you ever felt 500 sets of eyes on you? If you haven't, being the only white faces in all of the Fayoum is a good way to create that sort of experience for yourself. Sharon left the celebration at one point to get some tea in a local cafe and half the neighborhood was just standing there staring at her by the time she was done. We actually needed a police escort to get into the Fayoum, so they don't see many foreigners. And certainly not young American girls! Anyway, we walked into the reception hall and were greeted by a large screen onto which was projected the scenes captured by the film crew outside. We took seats in the rear corner of the hall with Abeer and her family and watched as the bride and groom entered the hall accompanied by what else, Arabic Pop Music (hereafter referred to as APM). We just sat there and chatted for a while until we were awakened by the very bright lights of the film crew. Hey, look...white people! So, they just stood there and panned back and forth across the table, all the while broadcasting us looking embarrassed on the Jumbotron located at the front of the room. It got quite a laugh when I finally picked up my scarf from the table in front of me and covered my face with it.
Then came the dancing. At one point, Crystal was dancing while surrounded by small children. More people were watching her dance than the bride! Ouch. Then the dance party moved back to our part of the auditorium. One of the adorable flies I described earlier dragged me into the center of the circle again, all the while screaming, "DAD! DAD!....SOMETHING UNINTELLIGIBLE IN ARABIC..." Basically, "Hey Dad, look! That girl you want to make your second wife, I've got her on the dance floor!" Some guy in the Fayoum is a dirty old man. So, I held down the contents of my stomach and danced to some seriously loud APM. Exhausted, I sat down. Soon, Sarah, Sharon and I were approached by a young woman and her husband. She was carrying a little baby girl dressed in a jacket that looked like it was made from the bright orange hair of a Troll doll. She passed the baby to each of us in turn and we smiled for the camera. I felt like a presidential candidate kissing babies. It had been a long day for us, so we decided to make our way toward the door before we were bum-rushed with more babies. Bottles of Fanta and Sprite were immediately shoved into our hands so we couldn't leave. We left anyway, only to be accosted by an old man who made sure we knew he'd make a fine butler for our families in the United States. We declined, as we were tired, as I am sure you are after reading a post this long. All in all it was a great day and I'm glad I went. The End.
Why was I headed to the Fayoum, you ask? For a wedding! This is exactly the type of stuff you don't get to see as a tourist so I was in, no matter how early I had to get up in the morning. So I met my friends Sarah and Crystal, along with another woman named Sharon in front of the McDonald's in Cairo's equivalent of Times Square. We went on the journey I described above and finally made it to a village in the middle of the oasis (the oasis is rather large). We crept through rough, unpaved streets barely wide enough for the cars and arrived at the home of the Aunt of our hostess, Abeer. Abeer was one of Sarah's teachers last semester at school. Her niece was the one getting married. Here we met some of Abeer's closest relations and were fed the best Egyptian food I've eaten so far. On the table was a large plate piled with homemade flatbread and a variety of things to eat with it. There were grilled and fried fish stuffed with herbs, spices and garlic, stewed meat, a spicy tomato salad and rice as only Egyptians make it. The rice is medium to short grain. It sticks together but is still somehow crispy and al dente at the same time. Fabulous. As the honored guests at the house, we of course ate first while the kids and old women hungrily watched. This felt a little odd, as I realized that they had put all the food they made on the table for us and they just kept putting more on our plates. But in the end they had enough to go around and I didn't feel so bad. Abeer's family members were impressed by the manner in which we ate, which was in a word(s), just like them. I think they were worried that the rich Americans would be all high falutin' and eat with a fork and knife. No sir! We decimated those (whole) fish with our fingers. Anyway, that's enough about the meal.
We had a relaxing afternoon sitting around with the family. Us girls became especially close with Abeer's young daughter and niece. They buzzed around us like cute little flies. At one point, we went into a different part of the house with just the other women. They were sitting around listening to Arabic pop music and looking somewhat apprehensive. When Abeer told us why we were a bit surprised. They were all happy for the niece as she was marrying a man who has a steady job in Italy, but they were a bit nervous about something that would happen the next morning. The Fayoum is still a very traditional culture, and at ten o'clock sharp the next morning, half the village would be gathered outside the groom's door for the display of a bloodied sheet. If there is no blood on the sheet it spells disaster for the bride and her entire extended family, Abeer included. So the day was bittersweet. What if she didn't bleed?
Sidebar: How many women throughout history have been disgraced and probably killed because they didn't bleed on their wedding day? I mean, the hymen can be broken in any number of ways. And then there are the women born without hymens! Sigh...this is not to say that she would be killed in modern day Egypt. At least not in this well to do family in the Fayoum. In other more far flung parts of Egypt, maybe so.
After a quick trip to the local cemetery for the Cairo wing of the family to read the Qur'an at the grave of Abeer's father, the wedding festivities began. It commenced with a crazy caravan to the beauty shop/photo place where the bride was putting on the final touches of her ensemble and taking photos with the groom, whom she did not know. This was an arranged marriage, like most marriages in the Middle East still are. The whole way there the cars were honking and driving crazy, taking extra loops around roundabouts, flashing their lights. This is typical in Egypt for weddings and when your soccer team wins a game. After a big match, all the cars in the streets of Cairo seem to honk in unison. Anyway, we all went to the photo shop and parked in front, blasted some Arabic pop, and started ululating. That's the lalalalalalalala noise many Arab women make at happy times. There was much dancing and ululating, especially when those crazy westerners (us) started dancing with the little kids. Anyway, the bride eventually emerged from the photo shop and the crowd went nuts. Guns were fired. So, the caravan set out for the hall where the wedding was to be held. We got there to find 500 people from the village waiting for us. There was a band, dancers, and a large inflatable half-shell that made the bride and groom look like Venus in that Botticelli painting. They basically just stood there, smiled for the film crew and enjoyed the performance with beatific looks on their faces, even when some of the groom's family members started spraying fireworks into the crowd and releasing soap suds that looked like snow. These guys would just put a fountain cone into the middle of the dancers and light it off. And no one cared!
Then, after a brief foray into the wrong wedding reception we went into the hall. Have you ever felt 500 sets of eyes on you? If you haven't, being the only white faces in all of the Fayoum is a good way to create that sort of experience for yourself. Sharon left the celebration at one point to get some tea in a local cafe and half the neighborhood was just standing there staring at her by the time she was done. We actually needed a police escort to get into the Fayoum, so they don't see many foreigners. And certainly not young American girls! Anyway, we walked into the reception hall and were greeted by a large screen onto which was projected the scenes captured by the film crew outside. We took seats in the rear corner of the hall with Abeer and her family and watched as the bride and groom entered the hall accompanied by what else, Arabic Pop Music (hereafter referred to as APM). We just sat there and chatted for a while until we were awakened by the very bright lights of the film crew. Hey, look...white people! So, they just stood there and panned back and forth across the table, all the while broadcasting us looking embarrassed on the Jumbotron located at the front of the room. It got quite a laugh when I finally picked up my scarf from the table in front of me and covered my face with it.
Then came the dancing. At one point, Crystal was dancing while surrounded by small children. More people were watching her dance than the bride! Ouch. Then the dance party moved back to our part of the auditorium. One of the adorable flies I described earlier dragged me into the center of the circle again, all the while screaming, "DAD! DAD!....SOMETHING UNINTELLIGIBLE IN ARABIC..." Basically, "Hey Dad, look! That girl you want to make your second wife, I've got her on the dance floor!" Some guy in the Fayoum is a dirty old man. So, I held down the contents of my stomach and danced to some seriously loud APM. Exhausted, I sat down. Soon, Sarah, Sharon and I were approached by a young woman and her husband. She was carrying a little baby girl dressed in a jacket that looked like it was made from the bright orange hair of a Troll doll. She passed the baby to each of us in turn and we smiled for the camera. I felt like a presidential candidate kissing babies. It had been a long day for us, so we decided to make our way toward the door before we were bum-rushed with more babies. Bottles of Fanta and Sprite were immediately shoved into our hands so we couldn't leave. We left anyway, only to be accosted by an old man who made sure we knew he'd make a fine butler for our families in the United States. We declined, as we were tired, as I am sure you are after reading a post this long. All in all it was a great day and I'm glad I went. The End.
posted by Lesley at 7:29 AM
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