They Say It’s My Birthday…
I’m 21 today! Mabruk ili (congratulations to me). I’ve only really been awake for about 2 hours so far but everyone in the office keeps on coming in and kissing me, so I feel loved. Jill gave me a bottle of Coke Zero which is phenomenal: The Middle East factory stopped producing it, or at least shipping it here, a few weeks ago and I’ve been in withdrawal. I’m not quite sure how the day could get better!
Wedding festivities for my host father’s brother’s (my host uncle?) began on Tuesday. The wedding isn’t until Sunday, but one of the most beautiful aspects of this culture is their ability to celebrate and their desire to bless and rejoice with one another as a community. Tuesday night we went to the groom’s mother’s (my host grandma) house and made all of the favors for the bride’s henna party tomorrow. I ruined about 4 bows before I decided to just pretend I was making them. Even the little kids could do it, it was very embarrassing, so I just stuffed all evidence of the disasters into my pocket. Shh…our secret. As night progressed, the groom and bride’s friends came over and we all sat outside sharing food, drinks and argeela. My host grandma had a drum and would tap out beats, singing prompts to traditional Palestinian wedding songs while everyone else would clap in unison with the beat, responding back with echos of her cries.
Last night it was more of the same, just bigger. Now the families came too, from both sides! The entire front entrance to the house was full of celebrants, glowing with joy in their friendships and the love for the bride and groom. I spent the evening the object of all my extended host uncles’ (my host father’s brothers…) competition to see who could tell me I was the most beautiful and who could get me to sit with them. The eldest of the five, the muhtar (chief) of the family, continued to insist on my true welcoming into the family. The muhtars have a significant role in Palestinian families because during the intifadas there was no real judicial system and the Palestinians wanted a way to solve their own disputes. I believe it is the eldest son who is chosen to be the muhtar, the representation of the entire family. If there is ever a problem or issue with a member of his family— down to the nieces, nephews and grandchildren— the aggravated party would not go to the individual or the police; rather, they go to the family muhtar to adjudicate the issue. Needless to say, I was honored, especially because here there is a level of sincerity that runs much deeper than our superficial welcomes back at home. The entire evening the uncles were introducing me as one of their daughters!
The night continued while between heaping bites of pita and hummus I chased around the younger cousins, giggling and playing keep-a-way across the property. Host Grandma continued to sing out her songs, clapping and dancing through the tables. Occasionally, victims of her enthusiastic joy would be hoisted out of their chairs to join her dance. Dancing with great-grandpa as he swayed to the groove of the drum and his whisky was the night’s highlight for me! Around 1AM, after a beautiful rendition of happy birthday, the night closed and people began to trickle home. Tonight? The same, but a BBQ too! I’m so excited!
