Alia & Marwan: A Mid-East Engagement Ceremony

No, I don't speak Arabic. But, yes, I speak love.

Its the universal language.

A smile.

A hug.

A side glance at the beloved.

A quick squeeze of the hand.

A casual tap on the shoulder.

It wasn't a typical Saturday evening, nosireebob. In fact, it was as atypical as possible. Me 'n my camera shooting - alongside videographer Zach and his posse - a Mid-Eastern engagement party. Until I arrived at the Hilton Garden Inn of Winston Salem, all I knew was "engagement party" and "head coverings required."

As the evening progressed, though, I saw an outpouring of love and celebration in a language I couldn't understand if I tried. It was a cultural experienced unlike anything I have experienced in Uganda, Kenya, Germany, Canada, or Mexico. It was a party to rival all parties. And it was love filled to overflowing.




Her family came from the country of Jordan almost seven years ago. They have established home and friends in this foreign land, but their Muslim beliefs and Jordanian traditions supercede the normalcy of their American life.




In traditional fashion, this was her party. She walked in to the party with her groom, holding tightly to his hand. Beside her, the groom and the father of the bride clasped hands, partnering in her journey away from father and toward marriage.

After the Bride and Groom took their seats on their thrones of honor, all the men disappeared and the music got a little louder. The groom led her to the dance floor, scattering the energetic children and starting almost four hours of dancing.





Then he disappeared.

It's the bride's night, after all.

Her time to party.

And party she did.



With all gentlemen gone from the room, the women let their hair down (literally and figuratively) and cranked the music up a few more decibels and partied with no end in sight.

(Note: Not all the women took off their head coverings. They requested that we limit photographs of the uncovered women; you will see here the ladies who kept their coverings on.)



Even though I didn't know these people, I watched them through my lens for three hours and saw one heart-warming, all-powerful fact: they love their bride. She was never without willing attendants. Sister kept having one of the children bring water to the bride. Another close friend kept the makeup touchups coming before each entrance of the groom. An aunt fed her cheese cubes, not letting it smudge her freshly painted lips.

And Grandma?

She was never far away from her granddaughter. Grabbing her hand as they waited for the groom to return for the next segment of the ceremony. Dancing along with the rest of the (young) women, and just as energetically. Yelling words of humor and support above the hub bub of the music.





They danced a long time, but soon it was time for the groom to come back in.

No announcement was made. The music kept pounding. But in a quick shuffle, the groovy girls turned into somber women, repinning the hair coverings and losing the giddy smiles.



And then there he was again. The only male allowed in the girl's room. The groom.

The male relatives had their own, separate room where they ate supper and talked, while the younger - bolder - men hung casually around the doorway of the woman's party, listening to the music and sneaking glances when the door would open a crack to let one of the photographers out.



With formality, the couple stood again on their throne stage and exchanged the rings, making the engagement official.

He placed a ring on her hand.

She put one on his.

He gave her another ring...a bracelet... two necklaces...and earrings. Each piece was formally presented to her and then placed on for her.




In the only public display of affection from the evening, he kissed her forehead after completing the ceremony.



And then it was done.

They are engaged.



More dancing. Opportunity for father and brothers to see the newly engaged couple.
And then it was over.

The music still pulsed. The brothers got their chance to get down on the dance floor. The photographers heard a few more Arabic yelps and more pop Arabic songs. But it was official. They are engaged, and on their way back to Jordan for the wedding.



No, I didn't get to talk with the bride and groom. I don't know their story. I don't even know for sure whether or not it was an arranged marriage.

But I watched them. I spent almost four hours analyzing them from behind my camera. And if they aren't in love and excited about the future, then I need to rethink my understanding of how love looks. (Or, I need to nominate them for an Academy Award.)

No, I don't speak Arabic. But, yes, I can understand love.

That was love.