A “Real” Turkish Wedding

Last year the teacher, Rabia, who was “in charge of me” always wanted to take me to a traditional Turkish wedding. I had crashed one in Ankara last September in which we had just been in the same restaurant as the wedding and the owner invited us in. Another was with Rabia in Izmir when we went to a wedding of a friend of a friend. Basically I was told these two weddings were “too modern” with alcohol being served and jus didn’t uphold Turkish values. So Rabia always told me in Isparta that she wanted to take me to a “real” Turkish wedding. I waited all year for an invite and never got one. Then last May, before I left, we met for dinner and she told me she was engaged. I was shocked. I had known about this teacher’s secret boyfriends and meetings in movie theatres. And now she was going to get married in less than 5 months. She is 29 years old though, so I understood her desire to get married soon. Turkish women are expected to be married and already have their first child or two before they are 30. I came to Antalya then knowing I’d be invited to her wedding. It was this weekend in Isparta.

Since I found out about the wedding two weeks ago, I experienced a lot of different emotions, mainly that I had no desire to return to Isparta. The only people I would know at this wedding were teachers who I had not liked last year and had made my life very difficult. But I felt obligated to Rabia to attend, even though we are not really good friends. So I went. I got out of a school meeting Friday afternoon and took the two-hour bus ride through the mountains to Isparta. That should be reason enough for me to go. I think it’s the most beautiful bus ride in all of Turkey.

Friday night was the henna night. Other Fulbrighters had told me last year about a henna night they had attended, so I had the impression it was like a slumber party with the bride’s closest friends. This was far from the truth, at least in this case. This henna night was a huge block party with the street blocked off in front of her parent’s house. I went along with some of the teachers and sat with them the whole time. Rabia saw me and said she was really glad I came. So I guess it was good I went. Anyway, first we ate dinner. I honestly was hoping it would have been more food. It was a “wedding soup” that I can’t really describe other than saying it was like a combination of three other Turkish soups. Then some rice and some meat, and watermelon. I was still hungry when we had finished. Then we moved our chairs from the tables to form a sort of dance floor in the middle of the street. The DJ started and played traditional Turkish music the entire night. I can’t really describe what this music is, but can only say it’s the music one always hears at weddings here and they do the same dance over and over (with their arms up to their side snapping their fingers) and just change the speed a bit depending on the beat. You should all know I don’t like dancing and really can’t describe this better. Due to something that happened at school last year, these teachers know I don’t like dancing. And they are Turkish. So they tried insisting the entire night for me to join them. They have yet to learn how stubborn I am though and of course refused, and would refuse harder the more they asked. Then there was a break in the dancing and the all the young single women (me included) were herded away and given red veils. We then made a tunnel for Rabia and her fiancé to walk under back out to the guests. Then we huddled around them and the passing of the henna (a pasty greenish substance) began. The teachers then explained the significance of the henna to me. Soldiers were the first to do it. Putting the henna on one’s hands symbolizes that they were sacrificing themselves for their country. The religious symbolization was obvious. So then in regards to weddings, the bride puts the henna on her hands to symbolize her sacrificing herself to her husband. So then all the women do it too. Most of the teachers I was with didn’t want to because they said it smelled, but I wanted to for the experience. Some try to draw designs on their hands, but most basically just put a blob on their hand, let it dry, and then rub it off. So I had a small circle on my left hand. The color afterwards is supposed to be orangey. The teachers said the dye must not have been strong because you can barely see mine and it will probably be all gone by tomorrow. Then there was more dancing and we soon left. I was a bit shocked at what the henna night represented although I guess I shouldn’t be. Turkey is trying to become a modern, Western country, but I guess they will always have these traditional values.

The next day was the family lunch. Or so I thought, so I didn’t eat anything before. I was picked up at 1 and then we went to her parent’s house. We sat in a room until probably 2:30. I have yet to mention that nearly all the women here are scarved. Only the women of the younger generation are not covered. The older women are neighbors and relatives. It’s quite a large group, as was the block party last night, of at least a couple hundred people. Rabia was wearing her wedding dress now. (Last night she wore a really striking red dress, with straps but not low cut). There was then a lot of honking and everyone ran to the street. A car was decorated for the wedding and Rabia was ushered into it quickly completely veiled. I then learned that this ceremony was for the bride to be taken away to her new family, to his family. Before she got in the car a prayer was said. I don’t know what it was though. Her family cried from the balcony and many cars tried to stop them as they drove away. Then we still didn’t get to eat. So I left with some of the teachers to go to a store since the lunch would still not be ready yet. Finally we go back to the house at about 3:15 to eat. And it was the same meal as the night before. And we left by 3:30.

Then the actual wedding ceremony was that night. I was picked up at 7:30, but nothing happened there until about 8:45. They sign the official documents (there is no religious ceremony) and then there is more dancing (and no food). I decided then to leave with another teacher who was taking his baby home before the other teachers forced me to dance. The night before I had explained that I was there to observe and not participate which they got a kick out of. I honestly just don’t know why dancing makes me so uncomfortable. I wish it didn’t. I know it would have been a great cultural experience for me to fully partake in the festivities, but I just couldn’t. It’s one reason why the teachers think I am so snobby and aren’t that kind to me. They made me feel so uncomfortable and really said some mean things to me about not dancing. I understand I must have offended them. It was quite hurtful though.

This may have sounded like it was a really bad experience. Overall I am happy I went and am really disappointed that I forgot my camera.