My Maroccan friend invited me to her sister’s wedding on a Wednesday night. The invitation said that it started at 6pm, but she suggested I arrive at 7:30pm.
When I arrived, I had a rude shock. I was the only one there! My friend was still getting ready in one of the adjoining private rooms. I regretted taking such a small bag that didn’t have room for a book. I sat down to wait. At 8:50pm, the second guest arrived, and the room started to slowly fill up. At first I was surprised by how many women, like myself, had arrived alone. It was only then that I looked around and noticed that the catering staff, the band, and all the guests were all female. I was then glad that I had left Adrian alone. Even though I had just read the description of a segregated wedding in “The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul“, I was still surprised to see one here in the heart of Europe.
At 9:30pm, the musicians began to play, with the male pianist hidden behind a curtain. Suddenly everyone stood up to dance and I was treated to a whole room full of exuberant Raqs baladi (Belly Dancing). At 10:15, the bride arrived to great fanfare, elaborately dressed, and sat upon the throne. A team of photographers and videographers captured her appearance, and then she was joined by 10:30 by the groom. Small groups of guests joined the bridal party on the throne for photos, while everyone else danced.
I snuck out at 11pm, before the meal had been served. My friend called me the next day, to ask why I had left so early, and to say that I had left before collecting my wedding gift and traditional cookies.