Egybitian Wedding

So yesterday I was forced to attend a 100% Egybitian wedding from beginning to end. It couldn’t have been more Egyptian if it was in an alley with fairy lights strung up to an electricity pole to steal electricity from the neighbors.

I was forced to attend because it was the wedding of the daughter of one of my dad’s friends from school aka Upper Egypt where he was raised.

And so, for once, I attended a wedding which wasn’t:

• Held in one of Cairo’s 5-star hotels.
• A pompous, ostentatious affair to show how much money the family has, flying in flowers from I don’t know where costing tens of thousands of pounds, getting so-and-so to sing, etc
• A contest to see who looks the prettiest, with all the girls decked out in backless dresses or ones with plunging necklines (even if it’s the middle of the winter and freezing), acting all coy as they check out the guys and vice versa.

No, this was a wedding held in one of the military ballrooms,* where half the guests were dressed in normal clothes, coats even because it was cold, and some in jeans. A comfy affair. The girls who’d gone to an effort to dress up were, I’m sorry to say, hilarious looking. One memorable girl had ruined a perfectly normal strapless blue dress with an empire waist and silver belt by teaming it with an blue Indian bindi (no kidding!) and a blue turban with a hijab draped over her high bun, giving her hijab the appearance of a head-hard on. Oh, and what to do to cover her shoulders and chest? Wear a nude colored top underneath of course! And a humongous silver choker. Finishing touch: Cleopatra looking eye makeup. Classic.

So, from my perch on a corner table eating cashews, here are my observations on the wedding:

• 

  The Fake Jamaican Dancers

• First, the waiters brought in the drinks** by dancing a weird, Bollywood looking dance.

• The DJ then started playing the most random music (think Amr Diab’s songs when he was still a baby) ear-piercingly loud. He then made sure it went on continuously for the entire wedding, even when the people were eating. No romantic songs, just loud loud noise.

• An Arabic folklore singer dressed in a galabeya then began to sing strange, strange songs. It was Sayed El Shaeer, who’s been around longer than I’ve been alive. I actually enjoyed the first 5 minutes–he really pumps up the crowd–then despaired for the other half an hour. Do you really need rababa*** at a wedding and a sad song telling the groom to never forget his mother/ the bride never to forget her father?

• Then came a show I had never, not in my wildest dreams, imagined could be part of a wedding. For an entire hour we listened to one never ending beat, which grated on my nerves like you could not imagine. To this beat, a Sudanese/ Nubian troupe entertained the guests with, I kid you not: Fake Jamaican dancers (that’s a real photo of them I took!); a male dancer; female bellydancers covered from head to toe in red stretchy material; Rumi dancers; a tanoura dancer****; male dancers twirling handkerchiefs and making the guests get up and do the conga; and the highlight:

• Two male dwarfs dressed up as a bride and groom and role playing an Arabic song!! It was honestly one of the most distasteful thing I’d ever seen in my life, and so insulting to the two men! Even more insulting than Virgin Megastores in CityStars dressing up dwarfs as mini Santa Clauses during Christmas. That’s not to mention that the song was probably the worst choice ever for a wedding: Farid El-Atrash and Shadya’s Ya Salam Ala Hoby we Hobak, a song where the guy and girl are basically cussing each other out.

• Cherry on top: The food was wholesome and slightly congealed. No chocolate fountain here. Think kofta and rice. Found a hair in my food. You had to pay for tea if you ordered it. And it was Ahmed Tea.

• And for some reason, right outside the ballroom was a little fridge with cokes and Cadbury Dairy Milk for sale.

A night I will never forget. I am scarred for life.

* The Egyptian military owns lots of places, and they hire out ballrooms to make money. Go figure.
** For some reason any Egyptian wedding begins with fruit juice–mango, guava, strawberry, and cocktail for the bride and groom.
***Egyptian version of a violin.
**** An Egyptian folk dance consisting of a man twirling round and round with a parachute looking like thing.

Seriousness

I got an email today asking me what I thought of Obama.

Ok, let me make something clear.

This is a fluffy blog. Blogging is a waste of time that I really can’t afford to waste, and something I’ll probably get bored of doing pretty soon. I’m writing just to vent/ get stuff off of my chest/ keep a semi-journal of a semi-journey, and not for the purpose of sharing anything meaningful with anybody.

I participate in enough ‘deep’ intellectual conversations in my real life; I really don’t want to spend time trying to articulate my myriad thoughts for a blog.

Of course I have my opinions on Obama and what’s happening in the ‘west,’ and a lot more opinions on what is going on in my country. But I’m not going to go down that road.

So I’m sorry to disappoint any of you who were hoping for anything more substantial to read in this blog. One day I may decide to go over to the dark side but for now, I’m sticking to the pink butterflies.

El Sabat

El Sabat

Ahh, El-sabat. A symbol of Egyptian childhood that is long gone.

Let me explain.

El-Sabat is, basically, a straw/ plastic basket. I’d go to my grandma’s house as a kid, she’d let it down through the window on a rope and presto! It would come back minutes later all filled with goodies.

Magic, I thought.

It’s sad now how kids have lost their naivety. If my grandma tries that trick now with any of my cousins under the age of 6, I’d bet they’d all be: what’s taking the guy down there so long to pack the stuff up? Omg he forgot the katakito! (and probably not even that, they’ll probably be asking for Mars. What’s wrong with shamedan, I ask?)

Sigh. I’m kind of sad at how kids nowadays are missing out on their childhoods. Even the cartoon movies now aren’t like the retarded Disney movies we used to watch–now they’re all cynical and sarcastic. No more big-eyed wonder at the world.

12 is the new 16. When I was 12, I was still playing with Barbies. I hadn’t even bought my first lip balm and I’d never heard the F word. 12 year olds now are going out on dates.

I feel like a crotchety old woman sitting in a rocking chair now.

I’ll Make a Man out of You

Apparently, according to my brother, this is a really good song to listen to at the gym.

Dude’s kind of hot. And props to Mulan, the only Disney heroine who didn’t need rescuing.

Why I’m not Married

Ah, the post I’ve been promising for weeks. Well, here goes nothing. Here’s my list of reasons, organized more or less in order of importance.

I’m not married because:

In Egypt, marriage is a one-shot thing.
Unfortunate, but true. Once married, Egyptian women usually become totally dependent on their husbands. The husbands then either resent their wives for ‘taking and taking’ or milk them for all they’re worth (i.e. I buy everything so I can do what I want). And if said husband turns out to be a complete ass a couple of years down the line, they women are stuck because of course no one believes in contraception and they have two kids. Suck it up.

And even if they don’t have kids, marriage is such a hassle–so much is invested into it (time, effort, family involvement, money), that it’s really annoying to do more than once.

Plus, a divorced Egyptian woman = leper. Good luck on ever getting married again, unless it’s to a penniless dude or a guy 20 years your senior.

Understandably, I’m very picky.
Really not something I want to do more than once. I’m not settling. Not at all. From what I’ve seen, marriage isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be so why should I settle? And so far, no guy I’ve met/ known has measured up to my expectations, which (sad as it is to admit) I’ve written on an A4 piece of paper torn from a notebook many years ago. In a nutshell, the guy I’m looking for is: religious in the best way possible, oklooking, smart, well-educated, good family, similar social background, loves new experiences/ travel, ambitious, loves his job, calm, good relationship with his family, optimistic outlook on life, comfortable with who he is.

Window Dressing is very important.
It’s just the way things are. In Egypt, you “marry a family, not a spouse,” and the family helps a lot in getting the couple started in their life. That means the families have to be compatible too: education, social background etc. Which narrows down the playing field a lot, considering my family is considered one of the ‘elites.’ (Whether we are or not is another story).

I’m a millionaire.
As in me personally, and not just my family. Sure, it’s my dad’s money, but it’s all in my name, personal account, money he can’t touch etc. Something I have not shared with anyone outside of my immediate family, not even my closest friends. But not something you can hide from a spouse, and unless he’s one of a kind, woman having more money than her hubby tends to irritate a lot of men.

But, I’m actually religious.
And it’s actually very very very hard to find someone who shares my social background (that doesn’t even mean finance-wise, just a guy who’s been to the same schools/ family “name” etc) and isn’t a wannabe western who is basically a spoiled boy. Lots of money translates as BMWs at 16, pimps and hos parties, label whore, etc. As an adult, that translates into wanting arm candy, judging women based on their looks, their dress etc. It may be surprising to hear, but rich Egyptian men don’t usually want to marry veiled women.

At the same time, religion for me doesn’t mean pray, fast, etc. That’s just the first level. Spirituality and character is way more important. If he doesn’t know what tazkeya is, then I’m definitely not interested.

Ze Egybitian Man.
Read the post. ‘Nuff said. A lot of Egyptian men are possessive, spoiled, still believe a woman’s place is barefoot in the kitchen, and feel they have to cut you down to size. And lel asaf (unfortunately), with my family, I’d probably be disowned if I brought home a non-Egyptian.

I’ve accomplished a lot.
Not to boast or anything, but I’ve accomplished a lot in my short life thus far, and by that I don’t just mean my degrees. A PhD before I’m 30 isn’t impossible, but then I might as well superglue my butt to the shelf.

And I am very very ambitious and always want to try new things.

I’ve accomplished a lot for a Muslim Egyptian woman. I’ve traveled and lived abroad, and I’ve been exposed to the world at large. Unfortunately, a lot of Egyptian men have internalized the belief that they must, must, must be better than the woman. They must be in control and they must be better than her. Which means I know less than half a dozen (Egyptian) men in my age group who have accomplished more than I have.

Apparently, I’m intimidating and unapproachable.
Clear by the number of honesty box messages I’ve received (“I liked you but didn’t have the guts to tell you,” “I wish I could kiss you” etc) compared to the number of guys who have approached me and told me they liked me. Self confidence when you have a lot to back it up is sadly a turn off. I can be all delicate and coy, but that’s not really me.

I’m not easily impressed.
The things that impress me are not so present in Egyptians in general. Example: reading for the purpose of intellectual growth. I have my own library at home, which once upon a time used to be a dressing room. That’s right. I squished my clothes into a small wardrobe to make space for my books. Stuff like that. To impress me, a guy has got to work hard, and he can’t pull the wool over my eyes.

I lead my own life.
That means I work, have my own funds, have my friends and basically expect to have a life outside of my spouse. Seems like a little thing to ask but you’d be surprised how many Egyptian men expect your life to revolve around theirs. I’m pretty much a woman who doesn’t really ‘need’ protection/ help.

My weight.
My grandma would have you believe this is number one, but I really don’t think so.

My thinking of marriage is not 100% traditional
For example, I don’t want to have kids right away. Maybe two, three, or even four years down the line.

Basically, I’m not a normal Egybitian woman and I haven’t found the right guy for me.

7ad 3ando 3arees? (Anyone have a groom to spare?)

Sunglasses and Morta

Hot hot day today.

I hate driving with the windows down and then getting a hijab tan*

I also hate it when hijabis put their sunglasses on top of their hijabs. It just looks tacky. Or put their phones inside their hijab. That just looks weird.

Anyway, I drove today to the gym and my sadistic trainer. Haven’t been there in around two weeks but surprisingly I slid right back into my circuit. (That sounds strange to even write). Guess I’m kind of getting used to it now.

Thankfully, I didn’t gain any weight during my two weeks of messing around (what? I was on semi-vacation!)

I realize I’ve never actually mentioned how much I weigh. For some reason, I don’t want to write the figure. Let’s just say I’m a comfortable size 16 and an uncomfortable size 14 (UK size). Jeans are the most annoying thing now that I’ve lost weight–size 14 is sometimes too small for my big butt and size 16 is too big on my waist.

I’ve lost around 5kg now, which isn’t bad considering I’m not exactly dieting hard core. My aim is to lose 10 more kgs. 15 would make me skinny but I’m aiming for 10. I’ll get there. Slow and steady turtle, that’s me.

It’s weird how 1kg seems like nothing on the scales but a lot when you see a bag of sugar.

Anyway, today was a perfect example of how contradictions = my life. I had breakfast with friends today at Cafe Richoux, which is as British as you can get, with the scones and the tea and everything.

Then I went home and ate morta with bread. Yeah, that’s right, morta.

I’m assuming absolutely no one knows what that is, so let me explain.

Normal Egyptian families use oil in cooking, or ghee–a kind of butter–if they hate their arteries. Se’eedi families like my own though, make their own ghee:

Milk is curdled. The curd is then manually churned until it precipitates butter and leaves behind some whey. The butter is then heated on a low flame until a layer of white froth covers the surface. This state indicates the end of process and the liquid obtained on filtering the suspension is pure ghee. In addition to the ghee, Egyptians use the remaining solids as an alternate cooking butter called “Morta”.

So basically, I just ate samna. Imagine dipping bread into pure butter. Joy to the world.

*That’s when your face tans but the parts of your face covered by the hijab don’t. So you end up with a half tanned and half untanned cheek.

Gamed Fash7′

I love Tony Benn. I especially love how he doesn’t give the website or phone number, but the snail mail address! As for the BBC’s decision to refuse broadcasting the charity appeal for humanitarian aid to civilians in Gaza? Let’s not even go there.

Contradictions

I won an award today from one of the most prestigious associations in my field. Yay me.

I also finally received my new passport–no more shebsheb* Egyptian passport!

Today I was also sent a comment by email:

Your site is a fascinating read by the way. So many contradictions and so much effort from your side to make yourself appear as something you are not. Reading is like putting together a puzzle.

Contradiction is a word that describes my life.

My religious and cultural and educational upbringing combined with my natural personality has resulted in who I am today: a woman who tries to hard to reconcile aspects of herself that many seem to think are mutually exclusive.

I have had it drummed into me all my life what a ‘good girl’ should do.
I have had it drummed into me all my life what a ‘good Muslim’ should do.
I have had it drummed into me all my life what ‘Egyptians’ do.

What I do with my life and what I want to do with it is not ‘normal’ for an Egyptian.
The Islam I follow doesn’t mesh with the patriarchal, superficial Islam followed by many.
The way I act, the way I talk, and a lot of what I do isn’t very ‘womanly.’

Basically, I don’t fit into any cookie cutter mold.

What defines me, what I believe are my strongest identity traits, sometimes feel like they are suffocating me. The life I lead, the family I’m a member of, and the expectations that are heaped upon me don’t help.

But I persevere.

This blog is simply a small response to the way I live my life. Everything I’m writing is true, and what I write is what I truly think. The way I’m writing here may not be the way I present myself to the world, but it’s how I think inside my head.

Okay, enough of the heavy stuff. Something to make you laugh:

My driver–in a very nervous tone–told me today: “Looks like you’ve lost a bit of weight,” and then looked at me all anxious, worried that it was an inappropriate comment.

My reaction? I laughed like a loon on loon tablets.**

* Slipper. An affectionate term used to refer to (the old) Egyptian passports, which resembled nothing more than a huge green palm-sized notebook. Now we’ve finally caught up with the rest of the world.

** If you figure out where that’s from, then you are a sad, sad person. I salute you.

Traveling

I love traveling. Love it, love it, love it.

The feeling I get when I step off a plane and onto the land of a brand new country is indescribable. Fizziness in my stomach, like I have kangaroos jumping around in there. It’s exhilarating and not even the crying babies on a 10 hour flight or annoying airport procedures can put me off.

I love exploring new cities and getting lost, taking in the sights and absorbing the culture.

Plus, of course, I love love love hotels. The suite I was put up in this time was downright decadent. I had a dozen pillows on my bed, complimentary Godiva (!) chocolates, a gorgeous gorgeous view, and I wallowed in it.

So yeah, I had a lot of fun this week. Beautiful city, beautiful hotel, and oh, interesting conference. Got up and did my piece, and thankfully came across as knowledgeable. Good thing no one knew I wrote that speech half an hour before I gave it.

So, I’m back. Miss me? :)

Off to a Conference

I’m off to a far off land for the next week to speak at a pretentious conference. Oh, and husband hunt, of course! Will be pretty busy being very important so I don’t think I’ll have time to write. I know you’ll miss me like crazy, but I’ll be back before you know it!