I've Got Soul, But I'm Not a Soldier: Wedding Season

I'll have you know that while sitting on my bed typing this, I have sweat dripping from the back of knees down my thighs, from my neck down my what passes as cleavage, and from the small of my back down, well, just down. I have two frozen water bottles at my sides and a fan about 12 inches from my face. Hello 110 degree late afternoons in Sedona-miz. Which to be honest, isn't all that bad, I just need to wash my clothes (and sheets) way more often. However, it's the nights that are the real killer, it only gets down to about 90, mid-80s if we're lucky. Though, unfortunately, I don't have the worst of it. Those volunteers further south than I, over the Atlas, are at least 10 to 15 degrees hotter than we sort-of-south folks. Tip of the hat to their survival techniques.

Anyway this past roasting mid-July weekend was a whirlwind of activity that has now, alhamdulilah, come to an end and will be followed by about three weeks of pretty much nothing before camp begins. Las week I was invited along to my host-cousins wedding in a tiny, like 10 house village east of Marrakech. We arrived Friday morning welcomed buy numerous Aunts and small children all lounging around the house chatting and catching up on the latest gossip. After copious amounts of (mostly bread) eating the Henna application began, done by a special lady hired in for specifically 'Mrrakshi' henna - a more angular, detailed pattern than the traditional flowery, curvy design you typically see. We then napped, ate, and food prepped through the super toasty afternoon before heading out on a walk around the village.

A few of the children, my host brother, host aunt, and host cousin walked me around the property and to the various wells and water sources. It was a perfectly beautiful evening in the middle of nowhere and I thoroughly enjoyed the company. When we returned to the house I was hoping for a quick dinner and maybe sleepy-time as we'd woken up at 6am that morning in preparation to leave. No such luck as more arrivals would be coming through the night and dinner was to be had at midnight... or only 11pm old-time as that's what this particular village runs on. As you would expect, being tired, hungry, and sweaty, I had my grumpy pants on that evening and was slowly losing my ability to keep my game face on. As midnight approached the kind women were beckoning me to sleep on their laps outside on the floor as we waited, I politely declined and attempted the perma-smile until sleep.

Once the food was consumed and I was allowed to retire to the salon and a welcoming ponj, I realized I was not alone... not only was there a frog attempting to share my room with me, a black massive bug/scorpion/beetle thing was attempting to share my bra. I'm well aware there's room down there for the little guy, but a 1am freak out as I'm squealing and shoving my hand down my mumu isn't the kind of goal 3 cultural exchange I was planning on. Bleurgh.

As the sun rose on wedding day I awoke to 40 chickens being gutted and cleaned outside the window, assembly line style by the women of the family. I nudged my host brother, asleep at my feet, and we stumbled out of the sauna-esque room towards the coffee. Once awake and dressed I had the honour of accompanying the bride to be with a couple other lady family members to the coiffeurs to get their hair and makeup done. After a two-hour set back (another wedding party was already in there) and a quick nap at her aunts, we returned to the glory of Moroccan nuptial preparation.

Now here might come a controversial statement: I can't stand the traditional Moroccan wedding get-up. The Korean drag queen make-up, the alien bee-hive, the gold-painted (note: not gold-plated) plastic tiaras... it kills me. Moroccan women are some of the most beautiful women on the entire planet, my host cousin seriously one of the most beautiful among them, so to have her be slathered over with layers of whitening foundation and cheap tranny eyeshadow? Breaks my heart. This day should be about looking your most beautiful in front of all of your family and new husband to be, not looking like a paint-by-number sheet filled in by one of those 'talented' Asian painting elephants.

Anyway, after finishing up at the salon, we returned to the house to find at least a hundred more people there than when we left, and lots of getting ready happening every where. After a minor freak-wind-storm accident (orange-mocha-frappaccinos!), we got dressed, ate some deliiiiiiiiicious food (I LOVE Moroccan wedding food) and then we pretty much danced until dawn. Amidst at least five costume changes from the new couple (love that tradition), the family dragged my butt up to the dance floor, and much to the surprise of the locals, white girl has got some moves! After being mostly ignored for the first hour by the 300 some-ought guests there, this girl busted out some butt moving and shoulder shimmying and was swiftly passed around like the neighbourhood bicycle. Everyone wanted a piece. So, thus, by 5am I was ready to kill myself due to exhaustion and dehydration and was happy for the hour and a bit direct car ride home. A car that actually had seatbelts! Which I ignored so I could lay down and get some much needed shut-eye before arrival back in Sedona-miz. As, wouldn't you know, we had a soccer camp to hold that afternoon... Stay tuned for an update on that.