Wedding Party Frenzy

I think I’ve been to three separate wedding celebrations in the past week and a half. I say “think” because I’m not always completely sure of what’s happening. When a feast is laid out – the situation becomes is pretty obvious. But, when my family got me dressed up at two in the afternoon, in the anticipation of a celebration, and by nine that night nothing had seemed to develop, I become accepting of this new dosage of confusion in my life.

If you’ve done any sort of Wikipedia research on Kyrgyzstan, the term “Bride Kidnapping” probably caught your attention. Rest assured, I’m an unlikely candidate (even though records mention a people with light skin, red hair, and blue or green eyes- ironic, isn’t it?). Anyways, this tradition remains a reality for women around my age, especially in the more rural areas. My first related experience took place about a week back. I went with my host grandmother to a neighbor’s house, where we paid our respects to the new in-laws (the groom’s parents). We brought a scarf for the bride. Through my fuzzy interpretation, this case of bride knapping was more of a charade, for the sake of custom. By this, I’m assuming the new bride was expecting to be kidnapped, so it wasn’t a traumatic, forced union. Either way, it’s a difficult circumstance to digest. Think about it: in Kyrgyzstan, you are basically married once you are brought to the groom’s house and claimed with a white head-scarf. Then, for the next few days, the new bride is required to stay behind a white curtain in a private room, where other women come and pay to see her.

There are other ways to go about marriage, such as having the groom purchase his wife (paying a bride price upfront) rather than stealing her. I also know a neighbor who went this route because their desire to wed was mutual.

Today (7/27) I went to another wedding feast. I’m still not sure of all the intricate details (ie prayer, preparation, official dress code), but there are two distinct social spheres – the men and the women. Since two other volunteers were there, I suppose we formed a third posse;) Everyone is given a place around a table (the longer the better) and bombarded with food. There is always candy, cookies, fruit, bread, and tea. My fault is filling up on these tasty treats before the main course is served…or maybe I do it on purpose. One more note on the bread before I reveal the mean course. Various types of bread are always deliberately scattered around the table. Rarely does it keep its place on a plate, at any meal. Sometimes I wonder…will I develop this habit of scattering rolls between dishes when I have people over to eat back home? It really is that easy to amuse myself;) Getting back on track, the traditional dish is Besh Barmak (sheep noodles). Allow me to arouse your senses. The Besh Barmak I’ve been privy to is made with Ramen noodles that are mixed with generous hunks of sheep fat, meat, and bone. These noodles take on a very potent sheep taste, something I’m pretty sure you can’t buy at your local Cub Foods (sorry Peach, I know how much you love your Ramen variety). I’ll just say my palate is still adjusting; but I always try everything that I’m served.

The last point of interest I’ll cover now is my fascination with the “grab-bag.” At my first wedding feast, I witnessed more than 30 women receive plastic bags and simultaneously claim (in a semi-competitive fashion) portions of the leftover food. Today, when I was given a bag of my own, I got really excited about it. I was sitting at a spillover table apart from my grandmother, who was inside the house with all the other elders. I was determined to live up to the standard she had set at the prior party and my competition was pretty limited. I snatched a couple meaty bones, threw in some cookies and bread, and sprinkled in some candy – the perfect combination. Don’t worry Chong Apa (grandmother), I can pull my weight;)