April 25, 2004
When Kurdish bridal couples arrive at their wedding and engagement parties, they are accompanied by parades of honking cars with people hanging dangerously out of the windows waving scarves—and, of course, a video camera to record the whole event.Friday afternoon I headed down the hill to Erbil as part of a small caravan of people that was to carry a bride and groom to their engagement party. I was asked along both for my company—and the use of my nice big car. When we arrived at the Bridal Salon (where the women go to get all dolled up for their weddings), I was excited to see that there were older men with drums and traditional tin horns camped outside. This was the “real thing”, I thought. The bride emerged, the drummer drummed, and the horn player wailed away. The women members of the bridal party made that ululation sound and people started dancing—and I started taking pictures.
Then my friend irritatedly remarked that THAT was NOT his family member's bride-to-be. (All of this excitement takes place before the bridal caravan drives off to the wedding celebration.) Then the bride emerged from the Salon, and the whole process started up again. And I took more pictures. “Wrong bride” I was tersely informed again.When at last the CORRECT bride was safely ensconced in a white BMW sedan, we climbed into my car with the bride’s relatives and prepared to follow the BMW up the hill. Alas, because of flooding from the rain, all the cars that had driven to the Salon to accompany the bride became separated from the BMW. As we drove along toward Salahaddin, we caught sight of the BMW and sped up to catch up with it. Oh dear. Wrong BMW. Amazingly, we did eventually find the correct BMW and ALMOST manage to keep up with it for the rest of the trip up the hill.
In addition to teaching and attending various wedding parties, I spend a bit of time every day shopping and walking in the neighborhood, taking in our laundry and such. In my wanderings I have become such a regular figure in town that I am recognized by everyone. One of the most common comments by my friends and acquaintances is “Katherine, I waved at you but you didn’t wave back!” Well, the fact is that EVERYONE waves, honks, or flashes their headlights at me. (Kurds greet all their friends--and anyone else they deem interesting--in these ways.) Either I need to start waving at everyone or just give up trying to wave at anyone. The other day I recognized our garbage collection man at the side of road 10 miles from town. When I waved to him, he returned my greeting with such enthusiasm that I thought he might fall over. Ah, a small taste of celebrity…
