I wear abaya (enveloping black cloak. Minus the hijab and burka) when I go out around my house and when I go to boxing. All my girls from boxing certainly appreciated it and its nice not to put a million covering articles of clothing back on after I’ve been sweating so profusely. The other day I went out with just a sports bra and a pair of boxers on under my abaya. It was a bold move. It was particularly bold given my propensity to trip on the dragging hems of my abaya and tear open all the buttons, most frequently upon entering or exiting a bus. As I was walking down the stairs last night (and in fact, numerous other nights) I slipped on the end of it and plummeted down many stairs until finally settling, crumpled and chagrined upon the lower landing- simultaneously wounding both my pride and my posterior in the process.
The other day my girl Sherin was perched up on the edge of the diwan in the squatting position. She is tall and extremely skinny. When she started gesticulating wildly her resemblance to a great winged bat was truly astounding. It’s super creepy at twilight as all the women roam about on their way home, like ethereal specters, faceless and floating in the night sky.
My, what a little flight of fancy that was!
Showing posts with label Yemeni culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yemeni culture. Show all posts
Saturday, August 8, 2009
why my last post was such a downer
My last post was rather negative because I was just pissed at Yemen for a hot minute there. It’s because earlier this morning I was thrown into a wholly unaccountable rage over a trifling manner. On the bus this morning on the way to work (very early) the driver had the gall to stop and fill up the tank with gas. Now I strictly estimate and regiment my time in the morning, every minute is accounted for, wasted time equals time I could have been sleeping. Clearly this guy was not in a rush, he nonchalantly pulled the bus up to the tank, then he effed around pulling it forward and back and wending his way around the various pumps, ostensibly sleuthing out the best one. Fill your damn bus up on your own time buddy, seriously get it together. I seriously contemplated bailing on the bus and trying to flag down another as it roared past. I sighed loudly, puffed out my checks and pursed my lips in annoyance, jiggled my leg, made little impatient noises and made a big show out of checking my watch a few times. There were a couple of large dump-like trucks waiting ahead of us and only one attendant in sight. He was very clearly preoccupied in other matters, he was in fact, engaged in a SHOUTING match with one of the other drivers. It culminated excitingly by the attendant ripping the STILL FLOWING gas nozzle out of the truck port and ramming into the gas tank of our bus- the gas tank that was mere inches from my protruding leg (jiggling in annoyance) out the door of the bus. I was trying to keep my cool both metaphorically (temper) and physically (endeavoring to catch a breeze from out of the sweltering tin box of a bus. When possible I try not to show up for work uncommonly doused in a flood of perspiration and frizzy hair). A small wad of crumpled bills was exchanged and then after literally thirty seconds we pulled away. Thirty seconds worth of gas? Yeah, that was worthwhile. Asshole.
We had almost arrived and were progressing at a frantic speed WHEN THE DOOR OF THE BUS FELL OFF. This is not a joke, this is not a drill. And everyone was super unperturbed by it. We dragged it along in a disharmonious cacophony of scraping metal on pavement until eventually the bus pulled over, two men got out, hauled the door up, slammed it back in place, and that was that.
No biggie. When I got to school someone had neglected to make my copies for my first class, and then I couldn’t get the damnable printer to work. I was proceeding up to my classroom just seething in quiet rage and discontent (over-reacting, granted) when I saw someone lightly trip up the stairwell. Hah! That was all it took, everything was well in the world once more.
We had almost arrived and were progressing at a frantic speed WHEN THE DOOR OF THE BUS FELL OFF. This is not a joke, this is not a drill. And everyone was super unperturbed by it. We dragged it along in a disharmonious cacophony of scraping metal on pavement until eventually the bus pulled over, two men got out, hauled the door up, slammed it back in place, and that was that.
No biggie. When I got to school someone had neglected to make my copies for my first class, and then I couldn’t get the damnable printer to work. I was proceeding up to my classroom just seething in quiet rage and discontent (over-reacting, granted) when I saw someone lightly trip up the stairwell. Hah! That was all it took, everything was well in the world once more.
5 months in Aden = 4.5 months too long in Aden
Yesterday was my five-month anniversary in good ‘ol yems, making it practically the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place. I’m getting antsy. I’m in a new stage- One which is not nearly as exciting- it has become very real that I’m here for a long time. I figured about a month in or so I’d have a break down, some nice culture shock, some deep homesickness. But its been five and I haven’t broken down so much as become weary. Weary of the weather, the location, the job- there’s really just not a lot going on here. And by “not a lot” I actually mean nothing at all. There are no sports, no bars, no coffee shops, no cinemas, no parks, no social hang outs, no stadiums, no amusement parks, no clubs, no gyms, no libraries, no place for young people, its socially stifling. Shisha and qat are the main activities. How healthy, nicotine and narcotics. Once again, well done Yemen. The problem for me is location. Aden is a total waste of a town. The economic capital of Yemen, and the center of action in the South, Aden’s unique history gives it quite a singular spot in Yemen. Formerly a communist holding, and then occupied for years and years by the British, Aden is now a past-its-prime port town meshing the worst of the Middle east with the worst of middle America. It’s a poor, volatile, dissenting city with a truly terrible climate. Also, there is no native culture or architecture or tradition, the towns are overrun with an influx of cheap, Chinese goods, and western imitation products. Sanitation and garbage disposal is sorely lacking, there is an extreme refugee problem, and recycling and resource conservation is an utterly foreign concept. Which is not surprising I guess in a place that uses more than 70% of its yearly water resources on the cultivation of qat.
Now that all sounds rather harsh- it’s not Yemen that’s the problem (though certainly riddled with imperfections) it’s this town that I have issue with. I distinctly remember towards the end of my first week here realizing with a sinking feeling that I had, in three days, just done and seen every single activity that Aden had to offer.
I find the people here to be completely fantastic- I love my colleagues ( I prefer to call them colleagues as opposed to coworkers, I just think it sounds so much more professional!) my boss, my students, my friends. Everyone is warm and welcoming and encouraging and the sense of hospitality and generosity found here is unparalleled. But this isn’t enough to make up for the complete and total lack of an outlet for my pent up energy and suppressed personality.
In order to mesh with social norms I dress, talk, and act in a different manner than my personality reflects- which is an exhausting charade to uphold. I find myself spending more and more time in my apartment enjoying my solitude and air conditioning and getting exactly nothing out of being here in Yemen. I could maintain the exact same routine in any town back home. I’m very much hoping for a transfer soon- in the next month or two- I’ve bummed around other parts of Yemen, stunningly beautiful which is a necessary component to my overall quality of life and feelings of well being.
Now that all sounds rather harsh- it’s not Yemen that’s the problem (though certainly riddled with imperfections) it’s this town that I have issue with. I distinctly remember towards the end of my first week here realizing with a sinking feeling that I had, in three days, just done and seen every single activity that Aden had to offer.
I find the people here to be completely fantastic- I love my colleagues ( I prefer to call them colleagues as opposed to coworkers, I just think it sounds so much more professional!) my boss, my students, my friends. Everyone is warm and welcoming and encouraging and the sense of hospitality and generosity found here is unparalleled. But this isn’t enough to make up for the complete and total lack of an outlet for my pent up energy and suppressed personality.
In order to mesh with social norms I dress, talk, and act in a different manner than my personality reflects- which is an exhausting charade to uphold. I find myself spending more and more time in my apartment enjoying my solitude and air conditioning and getting exactly nothing out of being here in Yemen. I could maintain the exact same routine in any town back home. I’m very much hoping for a transfer soon- in the next month or two- I’ve bummed around other parts of Yemen, stunningly beautiful which is a necessary component to my overall quality of life and feelings of well being.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Protest follow-up
In regards to the protests- several people were killed as thousands of people marched in formation and shouted anti-government slogans. The government has blamed the unrest on southern rebels demanding secession, but largely the unrest revolves around people in the impoverished south protesting against bad living conditions.
I googled some articles and didn't get too much info- if you can go to the website armiesofliberation.com - Jane Novak is a journalist/blogger living in Yemen. I feel like she probably writes good, true stuff. I don't actually know if she's a talented writer or not, the Yemeni government has banned her website so I'm unable to read the content... and that's probably why I'm so interested in it. If you can, check it out and let me know how it is.
I missed everything that happened yesterday- Monday evening i was again struck down with these crazy flu-like syptoms; copious vomiting, high fever, dizziness, chills, and sharp shooting stomach pains. Clearly this sounds like the flu. But it just keeps happening. Pretty much like clock-work I have had the same syptoms every 4-5 weeks since I got here. Sometimes it's with a sore throat and congestion, sometimes with dibilatating migraines, but always with nausea, dizziness and high fever. And it's starting to happen more frequently. What the eff?
I googled some articles and didn't get too much info- if you can go to the website armiesofliberation.com - Jane Novak is a journalist/blogger living in Yemen. I feel like she probably writes good, true stuff. I don't actually know if she's a talented writer or not, the Yemeni government has banned her website so I'm unable to read the content... and that's probably why I'm so interested in it. If you can, check it out and let me know how it is.
I missed everything that happened yesterday- Monday evening i was again struck down with these crazy flu-like syptoms; copious vomiting, high fever, dizziness, chills, and sharp shooting stomach pains. Clearly this sounds like the flu. But it just keeps happening. Pretty much like clock-work I have had the same syptoms every 4-5 weeks since I got here. Sometimes it's with a sore throat and congestion, sometimes with dibilatating migraines, but always with nausea, dizziness and high fever. And it's starting to happen more frequently. What the eff?
Monday, July 6, 2009
BUM BUM BUM! (ominous jaws-like music)
I missed Independence Day. Just completely forgot it. Woops.
And speaking of important days...
Tomorrow is a big day for South Yemen. 7/7 marks the 15th Anniversary of South Yemen's ill fated civil war –a revolt against the problematic Unification with the North. I thought after we made it through 22 May without civil war we were in the home stretch. Sure the week or two leading up to Unity day was a bit tumultuous- several people were killed at nearby riots and protests, but the big, feared mass insurrection against the North never happened. I, along with probably every foreigner in Yemen, was certainly hoping that this was all behind us. At least until next year. Obviously it’s not, because nothing changed. No resolution was found, no progress made. People are still just as unhappy and fired up now as they were before. I am good friends with two separatist men, both Yemeni, both educated abroad. These two men who have upper-middle class lives, good jobs, happy families, are chomping at the bit for succession. Just imagine how someone in a worse situation must fee- no job or prospect of a job because the government is corrupt and the economy is in shambles. And, if any jobs do become available 9 out of 10 of them will go to someone from the North. It breaks down to this- the North has the government and all the military might. The south has all the money and the education. If ever the country was to split there would be a mass exodus to the South. Not wishing a repeat of the ill-fated secession attempt in 1994, South Yemen can’t rationally seek civil war and succession unless they are getting funding and military aide from outside the country- something I have been assured they are in fact getting. I don’t think anything will happen soon, President Saleh has made it clear that they will proceed until they have exhausted all peaceful means of unity.It will certainly be interesting to see how this all plays out. My prediction- the country will completely implode within 3 years. If not, all natural resources, namely water, will be used up within a decade. And just like every developing state tottering on the edge of total destruction, Yemen will become a failed state. I hope this doesn’t happen. This is just what I’m hearing, this is just what I’m observing and deducing.. It will be interesting to move to Sana’a hopefully this fall, and get the North perspective on this issue. I am CLEARLY getting a biased view living here in Aden, the undisputed Capitol of the South.
But tomorrow is a biiig protest in Aden. My students warned me about it almost two weeks ago, explaining why they probably wouldn’t be in class. Amideast actually canceled all classes for tomorrow so no one has to be out and about unless, of course, they choose to be. I have been expressly instructed to stay at home tomorrow. I shall be safely ensconced in my apartment in Muallah, as far away from the action as you can be while still in Aden.
Also within the last three hours, over a dozen kalashnakov-bearing soldiers have stationed themselves by the roundabout by my house. To go with the half-dozen kalashnakov-bearing police officers that were already there. Whoa.
And speaking of important days...
Tomorrow is a big day for South Yemen. 7/7 marks the 15th Anniversary of South Yemen's ill fated civil war –a revolt against the problematic Unification with the North. I thought after we made it through 22 May without civil war we were in the home stretch. Sure the week or two leading up to Unity day was a bit tumultuous- several people were killed at nearby riots and protests, but the big, feared mass insurrection against the North never happened. I, along with probably every foreigner in Yemen, was certainly hoping that this was all behind us. At least until next year. Obviously it’s not, because nothing changed. No resolution was found, no progress made. People are still just as unhappy and fired up now as they were before. I am good friends with two separatist men, both Yemeni, both educated abroad. These two men who have upper-middle class lives, good jobs, happy families, are chomping at the bit for succession. Just imagine how someone in a worse situation must fee- no job or prospect of a job because the government is corrupt and the economy is in shambles. And, if any jobs do become available 9 out of 10 of them will go to someone from the North. It breaks down to this- the North has the government and all the military might. The south has all the money and the education. If ever the country was to split there would be a mass exodus to the South. Not wishing a repeat of the ill-fated secession attempt in 1994, South Yemen can’t rationally seek civil war and succession unless they are getting funding and military aide from outside the country- something I have been assured they are in fact getting. I don’t think anything will happen soon, President Saleh has made it clear that they will proceed until they have exhausted all peaceful means of unity.It will certainly be interesting to see how this all plays out. My prediction- the country will completely implode within 3 years. If not, all natural resources, namely water, will be used up within a decade. And just like every developing state tottering on the edge of total destruction, Yemen will become a failed state. I hope this doesn’t happen. This is just what I’m hearing, this is just what I’m observing and deducing.. It will be interesting to move to Sana’a hopefully this fall, and get the North perspective on this issue. I am CLEARLY getting a biased view living here in Aden, the undisputed Capitol of the South.
But tomorrow is a biiig protest in Aden. My students warned me about it almost two weeks ago, explaining why they probably wouldn’t be in class. Amideast actually canceled all classes for tomorrow so no one has to be out and about unless, of course, they choose to be. I have been expressly instructed to stay at home tomorrow. I shall be safely ensconced in my apartment in Muallah, as far away from the action as you can be while still in Aden.
Also within the last three hours, over a dozen kalashnakov-bearing soldiers have stationed themselves by the roundabout by my house. To go with the half-dozen kalashnakov-bearing police officers that were already there. Whoa.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Lumpy the Camel
This weekend I got to see my first ever camel farm! And by farm I mean a narrow, dusty, expanse of barren land located between two lanes of highway. These were my first real life, Middle Eastern camels! I had all sorts of pre-conceived notions that camels would be numerous and though clearly not a practical means of transportation or business, surely their use would be widespread. I pretty much thought I would spend frequent amounts of time riding camels or perhaps find life-giving sustenance in their milk/ subsist on the water in their humps if and/or when I got mislaid in the desert… My hopes were dashed upon the rocks of reality when I learned from my friend Muhammad(in case you haven’t realized yet, everyone I know is named Muhammad) that he, a native of Aden, had never once ridden a camel because helloooo this isn’t the 1800’s anymore.After observing (from
a distance! Camels are extremely brutish creatures!) the camels for a while we went to a nature reserve- the only of its kind in Aden. There were all sorts of birds and plants and it was really lovely and scenic. And then a surprise! Muhammad had arranged for a 
camel to come so we could ride it! Those who know me know that riding a camel is one of my all-time life goals. Woo-hoo check that one off the list!And let me tell you this- it is not a smooth ride. Riding it took every ounce of concentration and agility in my being. This was no picnic. And I, apparently, am no longer a spring-chicken. Camels have an extremely jarring, plodding gait and a GIANT HUMP RIGHT WHERE YOU SHOULD SIT. Pretty much the whole time I was clutching with all my might to a mangy tuft of hair and trying not to slide head over heels off the massive
ass of the rumina
nt.Matt and Muhammad Jamal
Saturday, March 28, 2009
I should probably put some pictures up of where I live...
Out and around Aden- The scenery is ruggedly beautifulLeft- near the Crater suq
Left- old Sufi temple
Camel farm..and a cow
Left- skyline of Mu'allah
Below- Khormaksar, where I live
Left- around Elephant bay aka the "nice" area with the "upscale" hotelsBelow- a little fishing village on the coast near Little Aden
Left- Seera district near the fish marketCrater center outside my family's house
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
All encompassing Arab hospitality
So early last week my friends the Mohammed’s and I went to an Islamic center (different than a mosque, where I am not allowed to go), I meant to go for just a few minutes to check it out but ended up staying almost two hours (and I have subsequently been back several times). Initially upon my arrival I felt a bit uneasy. Although met with exceedingly polite and courteous behavior, I felt that perhaps I shouldn’t have come. Had I brazenly (albeit inadvertently) walked into a private, Muslim-only area where the three-strikes- white, American, and female would prove insurmountable odds?
I will admit that I just don’t look the part of truly-interested-for-scholarly-reasons + I-swear-I’m-not-wasting-your-time. I look YOUNG. I guess I never realized just how young I look until I started teaching adults. I’m constantly getting, “Wow! You’re allowed to teach us even though you’re still a teenager?” or “Oh is your mother a teacher here?” NO! I'M 23 DAMNIT! The consensus seems to be that I look like I’m 17… Not so great when I am trying to personify an authoritative, hell-yes-I-know-what-I’m-talking-about demeanor. But this will be GREAT when I’m an old lady and still look spry!
We soon found ourselves sitting next to the main guy’s desk at the Center- I, of course, feeling exceedingly foolish and uncomfortable. A few pleasantries were passed back and forth in English, with much regret given that women were not allowed to study there. The man then proceeded to ask something in Arabic to a man standing beside me- miraculously I happened to understand several of the words he said and was able to decipher the general meaning- somewhat boldly I went ahead and answered his question. Immediately his eyes light up, I wasn’t some silly girl on a whim after all! To make a long story short we ended up talking for almost two hours about my purpose for being in Yemen, my desires to know more of the Arabic language and the religion of Islam, how Islam is viewed in America and vice versa, how misunderstanding breeds contempt and the biased portrayals seen in the media… it was wonderful. I ended up getting a tour of the center and then book after book was pressed upon me, a veritable wealth of information. Much regret was expressed over the fact that I couldn’t study Arabic at the center but they went out of their way to find me a place where I could.
All of this only further solidified my views of Muslim culture in general and the Yemeni people in particular. Islam is a wonderful, pluralistic religion practiced by kind, generous people. Everywhere I go I am met with unbelievable displays of kindness, hospitality and friendship. Moving here was definitely the best decision I have made in a long, long time.
Anyone want to come visit?!
I will admit that I just don’t look the part of truly-interested-for-scholarly-reasons + I-swear-I’m-not-wasting-your-time. I look YOUNG. I guess I never realized just how young I look until I started teaching adults. I’m constantly getting, “Wow! You’re allowed to teach us even though you’re still a teenager?” or “Oh is your mother a teacher here?” NO! I'M 23 DAMNIT! The consensus seems to be that I look like I’m 17… Not so great when I am trying to personify an authoritative, hell-yes-I-know-what-I’m-talking-about demeanor. But this will be GREAT when I’m an old lady and still look spry!
We soon found ourselves sitting next to the main guy’s desk at the Center- I, of course, feeling exceedingly foolish and uncomfortable. A few pleasantries were passed back and forth in English, with much regret given that women were not allowed to study there. The man then proceeded to ask something in Arabic to a man standing beside me- miraculously I happened to understand several of the words he said and was able to decipher the general meaning- somewhat boldly I went ahead and answered his question. Immediately his eyes light up, I wasn’t some silly girl on a whim after all! To make a long story short we ended up talking for almost two hours about my purpose for being in Yemen, my desires to know more of the Arabic language and the religion of Islam, how Islam is viewed in America and vice versa, how misunderstanding breeds contempt and the biased portrayals seen in the media… it was wonderful. I ended up getting a tour of the center and then book after book was pressed upon me, a veritable wealth of information. Much regret was expressed over the fact that I couldn’t study Arabic at the center but they went out of their way to find me a place where I could.
All of this only further solidified my views of Muslim culture in general and the Yemeni people in particular. Islam is a wonderful, pluralistic religion practiced by kind, generous people. Everywhere I go I am met with unbelievable displays of kindness, hospitality and friendship. Moving here was definitely the best decision I have made in a long, long time.
Anyone want to come visit?!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
No booze + dress-up + makeovers + dancing, Yemeni wedding or my own personal hell?
Tomorrow I'm going to a Yemeni wedding. I have absolutely NO idea what to expect, what to wear, how to behave, what to bring... my anxiety level is sky rocketing. This is what I know- My roommate and I are going with a woman, Aliza, whom we literally just met, yet somehow we were invited to this wedding.... I know that men and women have entirely separate wedding celebrations. I know that woman wear lots of make-up, dress up rather scandalously(because they are covered head to toe the other 99.5% of the time), they are extremely bedecked, bedazzeled and bejeweled, and there is lots of wild, body-gyrating dancing. Which pretty much sounds like everything in the world that I hate/makes me incredibly uncomfortable and self-conscious..
I also know that for the men's celebration they get to go out into the countryside and chew qat and shoot AK-47s. D it all to H I wish I was a boy...even just for a day...(so I just quote Beyonce now? thats just what I do?)
this will be wild.
Yemeni wedding summation- Quintessential late 90’s junior high prom x Boy George make-up x random wilting, flora head-adornments = What the hell was that?!?
The whole thing was a bit of a fiasco- super unfamiliar social situations make me panicky and without the aide of a little liquid courage I was just a heap of anxiety. Not knowing what to expect I decided to straighten my hair(creepy, white-girl fro seemed inappropriate) Oh fine, no big deal. WRONG. First, doing my hair involved a frigid, low-pressure, drip shower. Then obviously I needed to dry it- my wild main of hair has mixed with the humidity in a truly appalling way- I pretty much just have a fro now. Constantly. My hair has just been an endless debacle- my straigtener wouldn’t work…then my hair dryer blew out all our fuses… then I bought a Yemeni straightener but the only plug for it is in the kitchen… actually the only plug in the whole house is in the kitchen, which, clearly, is fantastic. But I digress…
After my shower I obviously needed to dry my hair. This manifested itself by me standing on my tip toes on a chair in the middle of the living room, harnessing the power of the languidly twirling ceiling fan for an hour. Good times. Then came the straightening- did I mention that it’s boiling lava hot here? I adopted a 2 mins on, 2 mins of straightening method. Frantically straighten my hair for two minutes then run! to my room and twirl about in the fan-breeze, whisk away temple-perspiration(from both the elements and hair apparatus), collect myself, and back to the kitchen again!
Liza picked us up at four- for and 8:30 wedding! Good lord what can we possibly be doing for 4.5 hours you ask? Why bedazzling our hair and faces of course!
We were told to wear whatever we had on hand and next time (really though? Next time?) we would really do it up right( upon hearing this I thought “yeah that sounds right, I don’t know what to wear or how to act, with a little hindsight and experience I can really look good for the next wedding I go to.” Now that I’ve seen the monster that is a Yemeni wedding, I shudder to think what will happen when they really help me next time). When we got to Liza’s house all hell broke loose. To sum it up picture Taryn- nice, simple, halter-style dress, hair down, heels, minimal, tasteful jewelry, and light, becoming make-up. Hours later T-MONSTER comes out- wearing shocking-pink lipstick(with some drawn on to make my lips look fuller. Thanks for that, Yemen) cloyingly sweet perfume, and more eye shadow and in a darker variety than I have ever worn in my entire life combined. On my ears I wore big, fake, dangling gemstones, I had a matching big, choker-style necklace, and a large, multi-colored firefly broach on(just so I would look a bit dressier). And then the hair. Oh wow, the hair! My hair was gently and efficiently arranged for me- one half down dangling in my face, the other half pinned up. Yes, that’s right. ONLY HALF WAS PINNED UP. With bobby pins? No. With a giant gem-cluster with shooting-star dangling pieces pinned along the side of my head. I was, in a word, pretty. After being “shown off” to many family-members and several of my own co-workers(much to my chagrin) We were off to the wedding!
It was held in the basement of a hotel- we were taken to the back entrance so as not to be gawked at. Inside was a small vestibule for removing niqabs, hijabs, and the million other shroud-like, enveloping outer garments that Yemeni’s wear. It was amazing to see the transformation of lemming-like, faceless, shapeless females into beautiful, vibrant women. Everywhere you looked were women fully bedecked in outrageous gowns, every color of the rainbow. It was a fashion explosion. The eye-shadow situation was unbelievable- sparkly blue was a favorite and it often covered from the base of the eyelid all the way up to the eyebrow. It was straight out of a drag show. Another popular thing was head ornamentation; big sunglasses, sparkly gems, even fake alien antennae- but by far the most popular was plant matter. A shocking amount of women had their entire heads covered with a wilty-looking, green, weed. It was fastened with bobby pins and looked exactly how you would imagine hair covered in deed leaves would look. What was that about?! I have truly never seen anything like it- it was the singular most gaudy, tacky, outrageous and mystifying occurrence of my life. The wedding hall was teeeeeeeeming with ladies- No men! Yemeni weddings don’t serve food so it is custom to invite everyone you know, and let me tell you EVERYONE THEY KNEW WAS THERE. Plus one American lady!(keep in mind even now, I just have no idea who got married, or even what her name is). The music was LOUD. Way beyond necessary or comfortable. It made conversation impossible (as though it were possible already with our profound language barrier…). Liza said that it was to be a religious wedding, and she seemed pretty sad about it. Later I found out that “religious” meant that there was only Yemeni music, not any Egyptian or American rock. Oh? Dang. In order to get to our table in the very back we had to walk through surging crowds of dancing/shouting women- most of whom stopped and stared me down as I went. They were staring at you? Was it because you had a firefly broach on? And bedazzled hair? No. It was because A) I am a pasty-white, American and B) because the day before I became so engrossed in my book whilst lounging on the terrace that I got a wicked sunburn-but only on my shoulders and shins. Liza said that they had probably never seen sunburn before, “what is this rare breed of red and white speckled human?!”
At no point throughout the night did I not have an entourage of smiling, squirming, little girls by my side. They practically sat on my lap, openly staring at me and shouting “what you name?” over and over. IT’S TARYN! Taryn! Can’t you understand me?!? Every once in awhile I would whirl on them quickly and make a wild face or slyly bring my hand around and poke them on the back. Just to keep things lively.
I also had a number of teenage girls stalking me throughout the night- to make a long story short I ended up giving them my mobile number as a means of appeasing them and they now call me all the time.
There was literally no ceremony- the purpose was to showcase the bride, and to let the women cut loose! The bride made her grand(and interminable) entrance and then sat on a gaudy throne the rest of the night. At one point everyone suddenly surrounded her, jumping up and down, ululating shrilly. And then, just as suddenly, they all stopped and went back to the dancing. Alas I have no pictures of the event because cameras were not allowed- all the women were letting their hair down, dancing, shouting, communing- and we certainly cannot have pictures of that. The sight of myself in the mirror however, bedecked in my full Yemeni glory will remain emblazoned in my mind for all eternity.
I also know that for the men's celebration they get to go out into the countryside and chew qat and shoot AK-47s. D it all to H I wish I was a boy...even just for a day...(so I just quote Beyonce now? thats just what I do?)
this will be wild.
Yemeni wedding summation- Quintessential late 90’s junior high prom x Boy George make-up x random wilting, flora head-adornments = What the hell was that?!?
The whole thing was a bit of a fiasco- super unfamiliar social situations make me panicky and without the aide of a little liquid courage I was just a heap of anxiety. Not knowing what to expect I decided to straighten my hair(creepy, white-girl fro seemed inappropriate) Oh fine, no big deal. WRONG. First, doing my hair involved a frigid, low-pressure, drip shower. Then obviously I needed to dry it- my wild main of hair has mixed with the humidity in a truly appalling way- I pretty much just have a fro now. Constantly. My hair has just been an endless debacle- my straigtener wouldn’t work…then my hair dryer blew out all our fuses… then I bought a Yemeni straightener but the only plug for it is in the kitchen… actually the only plug in the whole house is in the kitchen, which, clearly, is fantastic. But I digress…
After my shower I obviously needed to dry my hair. This manifested itself by me standing on my tip toes on a chair in the middle of the living room, harnessing the power of the languidly twirling ceiling fan for an hour. Good times. Then came the straightening- did I mention that it’s boiling lava hot here? I adopted a 2 mins on, 2 mins of straightening method. Frantically straighten my hair for two minutes then run! to my room and twirl about in the fan-breeze, whisk away temple-perspiration(from both the elements and hair apparatus), collect myself, and back to the kitchen again!
Liza picked us up at four- for and 8:30 wedding! Good lord what can we possibly be doing for 4.5 hours you ask? Why bedazzling our hair and faces of course!
We were told to wear whatever we had on hand and next time (really though? Next time?) we would really do it up right( upon hearing this I thought “yeah that sounds right, I don’t know what to wear or how to act, with a little hindsight and experience I can really look good for the next wedding I go to.” Now that I’ve seen the monster that is a Yemeni wedding, I shudder to think what will happen when they really help me next time). When we got to Liza’s house all hell broke loose. To sum it up picture Taryn- nice, simple, halter-style dress, hair down, heels, minimal, tasteful jewelry, and light, becoming make-up. Hours later T-MONSTER comes out- wearing shocking-pink lipstick(with some drawn on to make my lips look fuller. Thanks for that, Yemen) cloyingly sweet perfume, and more eye shadow and in a darker variety than I have ever worn in my entire life combined. On my ears I wore big, fake, dangling gemstones, I had a matching big, choker-style necklace, and a large, multi-colored firefly broach on(just so I would look a bit dressier). And then the hair. Oh wow, the hair! My hair was gently and efficiently arranged for me- one half down dangling in my face, the other half pinned up. Yes, that’s right. ONLY HALF WAS PINNED UP. With bobby pins? No. With a giant gem-cluster with shooting-star dangling pieces pinned along the side of my head. I was, in a word, pretty. After being “shown off” to many family-members and several of my own co-workers(much to my chagrin) We were off to the wedding!
It was held in the basement of a hotel- we were taken to the back entrance so as not to be gawked at. Inside was a small vestibule for removing niqabs, hijabs, and the million other shroud-like, enveloping outer garments that Yemeni’s wear. It was amazing to see the transformation of lemming-like, faceless, shapeless females into beautiful, vibrant women. Everywhere you looked were women fully bedecked in outrageous gowns, every color of the rainbow. It was a fashion explosion. The eye-shadow situation was unbelievable- sparkly blue was a favorite and it often covered from the base of the eyelid all the way up to the eyebrow. It was straight out of a drag show. Another popular thing was head ornamentation; big sunglasses, sparkly gems, even fake alien antennae- but by far the most popular was plant matter. A shocking amount of women had their entire heads covered with a wilty-looking, green, weed. It was fastened with bobby pins and looked exactly how you would imagine hair covered in deed leaves would look. What was that about?! I have truly never seen anything like it- it was the singular most gaudy, tacky, outrageous and mystifying occurrence of my life. The wedding hall was teeeeeeeeming with ladies- No men! Yemeni weddings don’t serve food so it is custom to invite everyone you know, and let me tell you EVERYONE THEY KNEW WAS THERE. Plus one American lady!(keep in mind even now, I just have no idea who got married, or even what her name is). The music was LOUD. Way beyond necessary or comfortable. It made conversation impossible (as though it were possible already with our profound language barrier…). Liza said that it was to be a religious wedding, and she seemed pretty sad about it. Later I found out that “religious” meant that there was only Yemeni music, not any Egyptian or American rock. Oh? Dang. In order to get to our table in the very back we had to walk through surging crowds of dancing/shouting women- most of whom stopped and stared me down as I went. They were staring at you? Was it because you had a firefly broach on? And bedazzled hair? No. It was because A) I am a pasty-white, American and B) because the day before I became so engrossed in my book whilst lounging on the terrace that I got a wicked sunburn-but only on my shoulders and shins. Liza said that they had probably never seen sunburn before, “what is this rare breed of red and white speckled human?!”
At no point throughout the night did I not have an entourage of smiling, squirming, little girls by my side. They practically sat on my lap, openly staring at me and shouting “what you name?” over and over. IT’S TARYN! Taryn! Can’t you understand me?!? Every once in awhile I would whirl on them quickly and make a wild face or slyly bring my hand around and poke them on the back. Just to keep things lively.
I also had a number of teenage girls stalking me throughout the night- to make a long story short I ended up giving them my mobile number as a means of appeasing them and they now call me all the time.
There was literally no ceremony- the purpose was to showcase the bride, and to let the women cut loose! The bride made her grand(and interminable) entrance and then sat on a gaudy throne the rest of the night. At one point everyone suddenly surrounded her, jumping up and down, ululating shrilly. And then, just as suddenly, they all stopped and went back to the dancing. Alas I have no pictures of the event because cameras were not allowed- all the women were letting their hair down, dancing, shouting, communing- and we certainly cannot have pictures of that. The sight of myself in the mirror however, bedecked in my full Yemeni glory will remain emblazoned in my mind for all eternity.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
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