I took notes on a tissue, so forgive me if the story is incomplete! It’s certainly not going to be short. Sara (my colleague) said I could bring friends with me if I liked. I invited Kellie, a Melbournite and we had an instant panic about what to wear. We knew that the we would be segregated from the men and that the Doo women would be very dressed up, so we went shopping at 11am on the day of the wedding (an excellent amount of notice) and found that the shops were all closed except for a tailor. He agreed that he could make us two dresses before 8pm in the evening. Plenty of time before the 10:30pm we had been requested to arrive at. We picked our fabric, drew a rough design on a piece of paper, got measured in the corridor of the mall during prayer time(!) and parted with 160 Riyals, approx NZ$80.
Feeling a little uncertain of the finished product, Kellie and I returned to the mall at 6pm to do a spot of shopping. We both found lovely black dresses with sparkly bits, so bought those also, being aware that there are many functions to attend and so few dresses in our wardrobes ☺. We returned to the tailor with a fairly pessimistic attitude. The dresses were absolutely wonderful. I was so pleased with mine that I vowed to wear it that evening to the wedding. After collecting a few other accessories to increase our bling factor, we called our taxi driver to collect us. He was quite late. By the time we got in the car, we had 45mins to get home before we’d be collected by another taxi for the wedding! So I pinned Kellie’s hair in the back of the taxi, while the driver played a fun game of refusing to acknowledge English. He’s gorgeous, and great for my Arabic, but not so fun when we were somewhat busy in the backseat! We made it home with 5mins to spare before we were being picked up. Kellie had no make-up on, half a hairstyle and tags hanging from the black dress she planned to wear. I had my hair and makeup complete, but filthy feet and I stepped into my beautiful purple sari-dress, bent down to put my shoes on and split the zip. It was so split that it took me about 6mins to get out of the dress. I tried once more to do it up and it split instantly. A hasty decision to wear my alternative black dress, a change of shoes and we rushed out the door.
We arrived at 10:35pm and I phoned Sara to come and meet us. She reported that she’d just finished at the salon and wouldn’t arrive for another 20-30mins! So much for our rushing. I felt just a tad conspicuous at the venue. We were the only women with pale skin, the only women wearing black, the only women wearing less than 1000 sparkles, and possibly the only women who hadn’t spent half the day in a beauty salon. We were more underdressed than the waitresses who had beautiful long transparent headscarves. We tried to convince ourselves that the scarves were for hygiene purposes, but knowing Doo as I do after only 7 weeks, I somehow doubt it. We sat and people-watched while waiting for Sara. The dresses, hairstyles, make-up (perhaps cake-up is a better term) were like I’ve never seen. Some dresses weren’t what I would call pretty, but all were attractive to the eye, if only because of their bright, bright colour or large number of sequins. There was an interesting trend on dresses that were more revealing, of filling in the gap with the tan stocking fabric that professional ice-skaters wear. I’m really not sure what purpose it serves as in my opinion, it looks awful and it certainly doesn’t hide what lies beneath. Quite a number of the women had obvious hair pieces attached to their own hair, including some Victorian-style wigs of a generous proportion. I was aware that while we westerners generally like to cook ourselves on the beach and consider a tan a healthy look, that Doo women consider the paler the skin, the more beautiful. However, I still didn’t expect that some women would paint their faces white, to the point that they looked almost gothic with red lips. The prize for cuteness went to a 3yo boy who was wearing a charcoal gray thobe (Doo man’s shirt-dress) and an adult-sized red checkered gutra (male headscarf) that stretched to his ankles.
Sara eventually arrived and we entered the grand room via a line of family members of the bride. We’d been watching the greeting technique to try and get it right, but there was no consistency. Sometimes the women would kiss twice on the left side and once on the right. Other times it was 4 times on the left, and sometimes 5 on the left. I hoped that I’d be pulled in the appropriate direction but my new acquaintance, and I was. In the grand room, all women and children were seated at round tables decorated like our wedding receptions at home. Each table had a coffee pot, teapot, hot water and trays of delicious sweet treats. Those not sitting were on the stage dancing to traditional Doo music. Both the music and the dance reminded me a lot of a traditional Indian style. The women had a wonderful gift for flicking their hips very gently and moving their feet to the rhythm. Women from age 10 to 70 were on the elevated dance floor, seemingly unselfconscious and looking absolutely beautiful. Occasionally one of the songs would have a group dance routine and the women would glide around the floor doing their individual moves in a structured way so as to avoid bumping into anyone else. Sometimes, only one woman danced and I couldn’t drag my eyes away. Kellie, rather daftly, decided that it would be necessary for us to try the dance. I refused time and time again, mostly due to the thought of being a white woman in a black dress on a stage in front of 300 women and girls. Eventually I was dragged on stage, but instead of hiding in the middle of 20 other women like I’d hoped, the floor included Kellie, me and our instructor. It was horribly embarrassing, and I’m sure every set of eyes in the room must have been on us, and every stomach painful from trying not to laugh. I have never spent any time learning to belly dance so I have absolutely no control over my buttocks or hips or stomach when it comes to moving them gracefully. I’m sure it was a vulgar, if not hilarious, site.
It seemed that the wedding guests were almost as interested in our desire to be there as we were to watch the traditions. We had a number of women speak to us, but most didn’t speak English and my limited Arabic and Kellie’s very limited Arabic left us mostly talking to each other. I asked questions of Sara whenever I could, and she explained the wedding process to me since it was nearly 3 hours since we’d arrived and the bride was nowhere to be seen. Once a couple become engaged (either via a family match, meeting one another etc), there’s a delay while the couple ready themselves for marriage. Usually this is the time that the man must ensure he’s financially ready for marriage. This may take 2 months or 2 years. Once they’re both ready, they get married which involves the signing of some documents. The couple are then officially husband and wife, but often they will not live together as such until after their wedding party. This may occur at the same time as the signing of the papers, but usually occurs months or up to a year after. The couple at this wedding were married 6 months ago and have interacted socially as a married couple since then, but have remained at their parents’ homes until now.
The wedding party is completely segregated, so the building we were in consisted of two large grand rooms. I was told that the men sit for the entire wedding party, talking and drinking coffee. They don’t have any entertainment, eat quite simply in comparison to the women, and will rarely dance (with only men of course). Naturally, some find it quite boring and look forward to the end of the women’s party so they can go home! The wedding party is about celebrating the marriage but the couple have very little involvement in the party that we attended. The bride arrived at about 1:30am after spending hours getting ready in the salon and dressed into her white, sparkly and very princess-like gown. It was so large that it took her nearly 25 seconds to walk down one step of the grand staircase during her entry. The walk from the top of the staircase to the stage where she sat on a lovely lounge took 15 minutes. During this time, we noticed that there was a woman wandering near the bride waving a long black stick that looked like liquorice. Kellie and discussed what it was about and determined it must have some spiritual connection – perhaps warding away evil spirits or something similar. During a quieter moment I asked one of the Doo woman about it. She told me the woman’s job was to keep the kids out of the way! Boy did we laugh. She said that it is very unusual to have children at a wedding party in Coo, but this bride was from Jeddah so it was deemed unseemly for the children to not be invited.
After the bride was seated on the stage, the room of bright colour and sparkles turned instantly into a sea of black. The women all cloaked, scarved and veiled up for the arrival of the groom. He made a similar entrance to the bride but walked a bit faster ☺. He wore a white gutra with egal (black ring) and a standard white thobe with a black and gold cloak over the top. They sat on the stage for about 5 minutes while immediate family members congratulated them, and then they left. That was all we saw of them the whole night.
All the black coverings came off for about 10 minutes and then the bride and groom party repeated itself with a second couple. Apparently the second couple were distant relatives of the first groom and had sort-of gate-crashed the wedding party, so they didn’t get quite as much reception, and the entrance was a little more rushed.
After the couples had both left, the waitresses appeared with burning incense canisters. One of the waitresses put it directly in front of Kellie’s face and we both look rather confused. She moved on, and one of the other women informed us that we were supposed to waft the incense into our hair and under our clothes. Interesting. Perhaps it was expected that we’d stink after 5 hours of sitting.
The final event of the evening was dinner. Even dinner was interesting. It was served at 3am and there was almost a stampede to the dining room. Kellie and I blinked and half the grand-room had vanished. We made our way to the room and rather than semi-orderly lines that we might expect at a buffet, women and girls were walking in every direction, piling their plates high with delicious food of all kinds. I stood with my plate somewhat disorientated and unsure where to begin, and a delightful elderly lady walked up to me and started chatting away to me in Arabic. I explained that I only spoke very little and she carried on telling me (I think) all about her connection to the bride and groom and other guests at the wedding. She pointed at various people and in random directions, and finished her story before moving onto her seat. I nodded occasionally, said I didn’t understand at others and probably looked quite blank. Very funny at 3am. Actually, very funny any time.
We left the dining room and went to return to the grand room, but found that nearly everyone had left. People just ate and left. We were secretly pleased as we were getting very tired, so Sara’s driver kindly drove us home after we took the only photo of the evening. I’m really sad that I can’t share photos of the whole evening with you, but I was obliged to leave my mobile and camera at the door as photos, except the formal ones of the bride and groom, were not permitted. So at 3:30am after a very long and interesting night, we looked like:
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