Sarah Writes

…..I want to write something I’ve been trying to find the right words for for some time.

I was lucky enough to be invited to a wedding last weekend.  It was in Umm Al Quwain, which I’d not visited previously.  The shawl I wore that night is draped over the head of my bed, and it is still fragrant with the oils I was daubed with as I entered the wedding hall.  That fragrance will remind of that night, and the beauty of it, for as long as it’s scent curls through the air.

When I arrived at the hall, I was terrified.  As instructed I rang my gracious hostess, and she told me which door to come in.  I skirted the group of men outside, keeping a respectful distance even though my curiosity was desperate to stop and watch.

I got in the door, my shaky legs and wide eyes betraying just how scared I really was.  I was scared that I would make a mistake, that I would offend someone.  A freaked out little white girl way out of her depth, in a way that us western types aren’t used to being.  We are so often the majority, even here in the UAE.  That night I was not in the majority.  I was out of my comfort zone.

With all my nerves, I immediately committed a little faux pas by not greeting everyone at the door.  I was mortified.  My lovely friend assured me I shouldn’t worry about it, but my legs began to wobble all the more, and my hands were shaking with embarrassment.

On we went to the main hall.  As we approached we were suddenly caught up in the rainbow whirl of the groom’s sisters.  Such beautiful girls, clothed so brightly and elegantly, and with so much warmth and grace that I was immediately put at ease.  As they applied the oils to my shawl, and wafted the incense around me, the scent began to work it’s magic.  Yes, this was scary for me, being thrust into a culture that I have little knowledge of – but it was magic.  The girls were sweet and kind, and spoke to me in English.  One of the girls told me her English wasn’t very good.  I replied that her English was way better than my Arabic.

We entered the main hall, and I was seated at one of the tables close to where the bride would sit when she arrived.  I felt proud to have been seated here, but hoped no-one would mind that this expat girl no-one knew was sitting in such a good spot.  One of the groom’s gorgeous sisters sat me down, and laid out so much food in front of me that I was glad I’d worn a loose dress!  I sat, ate, looked around in amazement, and looked around some more.  The gowns, the embellished abayas, the little girls like sugared dolls, all worked together to create a scene that is difficult to describe.  The hall shone like crisp cut glass, each woman adding to the sparkle with her own light.  To see the women relaxed, at ease, and largely unfettered by the rules of modesty in public was an amazing thing.

After we ate the main meal, which was the most delicious (and only) roasted(?) camel I have ever eaten, the was a sudden hush and dimming of lights.  The bride was about to come out.

She walked slowly and purposely, making her way to the stage.  She gleamed the brightest of all, her eyes vivid in their purpose .  Her dress was exquisite.  Like a jewel floating on a cloud, she made her way to the front of the hall.  I thought I caught a glimpse of nerves, but just as quickly it was gone.  She stood tall, and her mother, my friend, must have been very proud of her daughter that night.

I don’t think I spoke much the whole evening.  I was concerned mainly with taking it all in.  I was introduced to some lovely women, who were very sweet and spoke to me in my own language.  I wished I had learnt more than the few Arabic words that I knew.  On being told I was a writer, one of the ladies encouraged me to write about the night.  This is for her, I hope it is what she was expecting.  I know that the wedding was not what I expected.  It was so much more than I could have imagined.

Tags: Emirati, national day, UAE, wedding