A Kurdish Wedding

So I've been here less than two weeks and I've already been invited to a wedding. A woman I'll be working with here, Siham, came to my office and invited me to join her at a colleagues wedding on Friday (last Friday now). Though it was in Syria, the bride was Kurdish. I had no clue what to expect; Siham just told me to dress nice, and walked back out of my office. I also had plans for early Friday morning to go on a "hash" which as far as I can tell is an organized hike. I woke up at 5AM to loud thunderclaps and the splash of rain on the streets. Never the less, Jakoba picked me up at 6AM and the three of us (Celine being the third) drove to the site about an hour out of town figuring perhaps the rain was local. It wasn't and it rained all the way there. Inwardly, I was thankful and was begging the rain to keep up so I could go back to bed and have breakfast at a regular hour. When we got to the site, the rain had died out, but it was muddy everywhere. We decided to cancel but took advantage of the bit of nice weather to explore ourselves.

We were in the ruins of Al Bara, one of many "dead cities" here, and one of the most extensive. It was first settled in the 4th century, flourished due to the value of the land in producing wine and olive oil. It remained inhabited through Muslim occupation of the area and later became a prominent Christian city. It was finally left to ruin after an earthquake in the late 12th century. What remains are various arches, a few crumbling buildings, and two pyramid shaped tombs, though I didn't know they were tombs at the time. There is something serene in walking around a city that lasted, functioning, for 800 years, and has remained that long again to be seen by wanderers like myself. We wandered our way right out of the ruins and right back into the nearby village. From a hillside road we could see our car, about half a mile away. We walked back, cutting through orchards, and had tea and muffins near the car while trying to clean the mud of our shoes. The incoming rain helped with that, and we beat a retreat to the car.

Back on the road, we found another set of ruins nearby, and since the weather was now its manic phase, we set out to explore again. These ruins, Sargila, though more closely gathered, were better preserved, whole buildings, and another of the pyramid tombs we'd seen at the previous site. Exploring these required less following paths and more climbing over piles of stones. Interestingly, the ground around the ruins, literally every bit of soil up to the walls and in between buildings, was being cultivated, recently planted. Waste not, I guess. If anything, I suppose it is a way of showing respect to the ruins. Life begets life. Suddenly, the weather changed moods once again and we found ourselves scurrying over rocks as quickly as we could, dripping wet as we dove into the car. We got turned around and on the wrong road, but in doing so we found more ruins, including one area that required tickets, but the rain was not conducive here. Another day, perhaps.

We got back to Aleppo, and had coffee at Jakoba's, perusing her books. She had offered up her library to me, pegging me for a book-loving English-speaking ex-pat who was dying for a good peice of literature. I took four home with me, that's all my bag could fit. I ended up not having time for a nap, and tired already, I met up with Siham for the wedding. Her fifteen year old son, Hedi, joined us looking pretty sharp in his suit. We were fast friends, though I think he may have only liked me for my camera. He borrowed it and took some pictures towards the end of the night (the one I posted of the bride and groom is his). The wedding itself was far more modern than I was expecting. Modern, interesting word that. I think people have a tendency to equate "modern" with "American" or "European" when in reality anything created in present day is modern, and its all comparative anyway. Sliced bread is modern, compared to cave art. Anyways, about three hundred people were in attendance, in a variety of attire. While I didn't see any women fully covered (Kurdish weddings/families tend to be less formal in many respects), probably half were wearing headscarves, pinned tightly to frame their faces. The men were mostly in suits, some in jeans. Only the servers and dancers were wearing more traditional garb.

The wedding was held in a hotel or conference center, a large place with many functions. There was actually a swimming pool in the center of the room which was the size of a large gymnasium. We were served plates of fruit an ample amounts of Arabic coffee (a ridiculously potent brew, not sure I'd like it if I didn't already make my coffee darker than a black hole). The bride was shown from home on a video projection screen on either side of the room, while a loud Turkish band played near the stage set up with bright flowers, chairs for the couple, and large white ornaments. As always, a few young girls were dancing on the open dance floor in front of the stage, mostly spinning in circles. The bride and groom entered through a line of traditional dancers who ushered them onto the dance floor like that old game where you run through the tunnel made by people standing in two lines with their hands up, then reform it at the end. The rest of the wedding was fairly recognizable. They exchanged rings, cut the cake (with a sword instead of a knife), and greeted guests. The only main difference was the dances, performed by both guests and, separately, hired dancers. These were simple group dances, reminiscent of the old European dances we learned for the Elizabethan festival in high school. The guests joined hands with pinkies, and did a slow six step walk in a circle, spiraling, with the lead dancer gently waving a bright piece of fabric from his/her fingers. The bride and groom had their dance as well, never touching, facing each other and turning a slow circle while their hands danced.

Busy couple weeks, even busier to come, though there are some holidays soon. I may visit Damascus next week over the holiday, then travel to Lebanon to collect samples the following week. I'll likely spend Christmas with Tamar and her family here. She's a homegrown Montana girl who's dad happens to be Syrian/Armenian (and a close friend of my main contact here, Amor). She wanted to know her heritage and has found herself teaching kindergarten here. Sort of kindred spirits I guess.

PS. Sorry for the book. My lack of good internet and busy life lately means I have far too much I want to relate.