White Wedding

It was a warm, sunny day. The perfect day for a wedding, or in the case of my classmate and I, to crash a wedding. We were on day two of our three-day stay with a Bedouin family in the Jordan Badia when our host father invited us to tag along to a local wedding. So, we dressed in our best (or at least most appropriate and cleanest) outfits, piled into Papa Bedouin's black, old car and headed out. We didn't know what to expect, but what we got was one of the best experiences of my month-long study abroad in Jordan.

The guests welcomed us with open arms, immediately including us in the celebration. The men primarily wore white floor-length tunics and bright red and white keffiyahs, a cloth worn as a head piece or scarf, and most of the women donned the traditional jilbab, a long, loose-fitting dress, and hijab, a veil or scarf-like head wrap — some wore neutral blacks and grays, some more vibrant pinks and purples. The men and women were completely separated. They ate in different outdoor pavilions and danced in different rooms. There was no mingling, so the Bedouin boys had to wonder about us American girls from a distance. And wonder they did. Everyone was curious about us, especially the children. Some took to us right away, offering up flowers for our hair and bringing us around like we were treasure they'd found. Some hid behind their mothers, who then gave us warm, apologetic smiles.

At some point we ate mansaf, a dish of lamb and rice cooked with spices and pita, served to us by the bare hands of a plump elderly woman from a massive plate which people grabbed chunks of meat off of as it was passed around. Then, we were brought inside a tan building to a black and white, open room to see the beautiful bride, who was dressed in a flowing white gown and adorned with elegant jewelry and makeup. She was sitting on a throne-like red chair watching the women dance to upbeat Arabian music. Then, we too, danced. Not well, but the women were patient and let us stay in their dance circle anyway.

I may not have left that wedding understanding how to dance to Arabian music, but I did understand a piece of the Bedouin culture and felt I had been fully immersed in it. Being part of a stranger's special day like that, welcomed as one of their own, was truly special. At that wedding, in the Badia, I may have been an outsider, but in that time, I lived as a Bedouin. I was embedded into their lives, just as that experience will forever be embedded in my memory.