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Gang
aft a-gley - the Urdu mix by Neil Matthews It all started last year with an e-mail from Zerina, a friend of Helen from their schooldays. Zerina, the message said, was getting married. She had somehow managed to avoid an arranged marriage until now. In this case, a friend of a friend had made the introductions and Zerina and Tanvir had met for a formal engagement ceremony earlier in 1999. Zerina's fiancé and his family had allegedly thought that she seemed "a nice, simple girl". Zerina is a PhD, a research chemist, an expert in karate and a former member of the Territorial Army! In subsequent conversations with Zerina, it emerged that her husband to be was not necessarily aware of all her hobbies… Zerina and her family were kind enough to invite us to her wedding in March 2000 in Gujranwala, a town some way north of Lahore. We would be staying with the family (parents, three brothers and three sisters including Zerina) in their new house and Helen would be one of the bridesmaids. As I am apprehensive of long flights, and have a long-standing aversion to Indian / Pakistani food (and to places with the most basic hygiene facilities), this was clearly going to be an adventure. As preparation for her duties, Helen went to see Zerina and her sisters (all of whom live in Britain, as do the brothers), for the purpose of choosing the outfits to wear during the week and specifically on the three days of the wedding. Oh yes, did I mention that the wedding would be over three days? With all this in mind, colleagues at work who encouraged me to "have a nice holiday" were, I felt, not quite understanding exactly what we had let ourselves in for. On the other hand, it could be our only chance to visit Pakistan and we could not turn down such an invitation. The original plan was that the guests would fly out with Zerina, her brothers and sisters by PIA (Pakistan International Airlines). However, at a late stage, we were informed that the ticket price had increased by £115 and so Zerina's family, and one of the bridesmaids, opted instead to fly with Gulf Air - a 14 hour flight via Bahrain. Although we were told that Gulf Air's customer care is much superior to PIA, I simply couldn't stomach the thought of such a long flight - just as well, as it turned out. Check-in was enlivened by the sight of a Pakistani at the next desk with a piece of baggage at least twice as wide as the conveyor belt. We had brought one suitcase each. "Gosh," said the check-in lady - meaning "Only two? That's unheard of!" Her supervisor had obviously got our measure, as she offered us seats in the non-smoking section of the top deck, where no children were allowed. Hoorah! Three other friends of Zerina were making the journey on our flight. Walking away from check-in, we saw a striking looking woman with blonde hair standing there, obviously waiting for someone. After the traditional pause between English people who do not know each other (when nobody looks anybody else quite in the eye), she introduced herself as Helen Olsen, a friend from karate classes. We met Ken and Adriana shortly afterwards - Adriana, who comes from Brazil but now lives in Britain, being another karate colleague of Zerina. We also heard that Melanie, another bridesmaid, had been unable to get a flight at all and missed the wedding. The flight itself went better than we could have hoped, partly due to the consideration of that check-in supervisor, partly due to extremely reasonable legroom, food and various video and audio channels from which to choose. Arrival was slightly different! Pakistanis at an airport do not seem to share the British notion of queuing. They simply surge forward, leaving gullible others at the back. So it was some time before we glimpsed Zerina in the crowded arrivals area (which also included a TV screen showing the Test match between Pakistan and Sri Lanka - very sophisticated). I gave Zerina a welcoming peck on the cheek - immediately breaching local protocol, for the first of several times that week. The luggage took some time to arrive from the plane, but at least it did arrive. Zerina told us that eight suitcases belonging to her and her family were stuck in Bahrain and unlikely to arrive until Thursday, the day after the wedding. Gulf Air were subsequently slow and uncooperative in forwarding them. Several of the group had extreme difficulty in re-arranging return flights with Gulf Air after discovering that the flight on which they had been booked did not exist. Some of the problems were not resolved at the time we left. The suitcases belonging to Zerina contained clothing and other items for the wedding, including a hand-painted teapot (£2.99 from Woolworths) whose absence particularly irked her. Over the coming week, the teapot assumed almost mythical proportions, as only Helen of our party had ever seen it. The phrase "it's in the suitcase / in Bahrain", as an answer to numerous queries about the location of various items, became one of the catchphrases of our stay. Zerina's youngest sister, Najma, who had flown out to Pakistan four months earlier to make preparations, was also upset to learn that her long-awaited supplies of chocolate were also detained in Bahrain. After a two-hour minibus journey from the airport, enlivened by the sight of donkey carts, rickshaws and long-eared sheep (one of which was on the back of a moped), we finally reached Gujranwala and the house of the Shafi family. By Pakistani standards, it was large, containing something like ten separate rooms. This would be the setting for the second day of the wedding, the most important. We did get our own large room but, to balance this, the bathroom which we were to use (shower only, no bath) was on the outside balcony and had a rudimentary bolt and no light on the first night. If the door was open, it was safe to enter. Singing in the shower seemed to be the best way to allay any confusion, and no embarrassing incidents occurred as far as I know. One of the first things we did on arrival was to admire the hand-embroidered outfits for the wedding, for female guests and for Ken, which Najma had arranged to be sewn locally. We tried them on before going to bed at 5pm local time - five hours ahead of GMT - and were dead to the world till the morning. Wedding, day 1: mendi night After a quiet Sunday of rest and recuperation, there was a hair-raising trip on a motor rickshaw on the Monday. Pakistanis drive on the empty side of the road and use their horns instead of indicators. I might add that this gave me some insight into Zerina's driving style back in Britain - much more dangerous than any karate or TA activity. The drive took us to the local bazaar to buy shoes, jewellery and bangles for the ladies and to collect yet more of the saris and other outfits. Bikes, mopeds, singers, beggars, drinks waiters, policemen, shoe shiners, traders and shoppers all crowded impossibly into the narrow streets. The shoe shop was interesting: shoes came down through a hole in the ceiling for the customer to try. I had to wait outside while this went on. We were offered bottled soft drinks, with straws, at two of the shops, leading me to conclude that this was as close as you could get to a pub crawl in Pakistan. Although Ken had opted to wear local dress for the wedding, I had chosen to keep to smart Western attire. This was a challenge, as my preferred holiday 'look' is normally on the scruffy side of comfortable. The ladies, in their Eastern chemises and scarves, were the objects of some staring from locals, and so was I. That evening saw simultaneous ceremonies for the bride and groom at their respective family homes. The first event was the showing of the trousseau / gifts for the groom and his family. Zerina was dressed in a bright yellow outfit, the tradition being for the bride to look fairly awful on this evening and therefore all the more beautiful the following day. Various relatives and friends prepared plates of what looked like mud pies (actually henna), sticking lit candles in the middle of each plate. Some dancing with sticks took place, uncannily like morris dancing. The bride then came down the staircase, escorted by her bridesmaids who held a long scarf above her head, and she sat on a sofa in the main living room area. She was fed some very sweet sweets by a sequence of people, while having rupees waved over her head and oil rubbed into her hair. Young girls then sat around the henna plates and sang a number of songs (whose Urdu lyrics were allegedly suggestive!), each in their own key, to the accompaniment of clapping and drums. This all went on until quite late in the evening; the start had been postponed to enable one of the bridesmaids, Parissa, to return from Lahore where she had been trying to reconfirm her return flight. The henna ceremonies were recorded on video by a cameraman hired for the occasion (another video cameraman had been hired by the groom's family and would appear the next day). At one point, he tried to take a shot with the lens cap still on. Later, walking backwards, he almost tripped over a carpet. In the meantime, Ken was doing a much better job using the family's hand-held camcorder… Later still, the bride and some of the bridesmaids had henna decorations set into their hands. They would not be able to wash their hands until the following morning, to enable the henna to set. So the stage was set for Tuesday… Wedding, day 2: the big day It is one of the quirks of Pakistani weddings that it is illegal for the bride's family to provide catering for the groom's family and guests on this day - when the ceremony is taking place in the bride's home. To get round this, Zerina's family ordered the local equivalent of packed lunches and sent them to the groom's party to eat en route. Zerina's plan for the ceremony had been for the bridal procession to go down the main staircase and for the bride to sit on the sofa in the main living room. The groom would then follow and sit beside her. Unfortunately, her father did not agree. For reasons I never fully understood, he decreed that the bridal procession should go across the floor of the downstairs living room, from one small room to another, where the sofa would be situated - a distance of fifteen to twenty feet. The groom would then come down the staircase to join her. In order to accommodate more people upstairs, we shifted the furniture and everyone's luggage out of two of the upstairs bedrooms into the third, the room in which we would also change. Sounds simple, doesn't it? For the rest of the morning, we helped to decorate the ceremonial room with roses and balloons. The end result looked quite effective, despite many of the intended decorations being - wait for it - in Bahrain. At the start of the day, we were expecting the groom's party to arrive at 1 pm. During the morning, we were told that this would now be 4 pm. So, when they did arrive - at 3 pm - nobody was ready. The bridesmaids dashed downstairs, without their jewellery on, in order to throw rose petals in welcome. They then retreated upstairs to finish dressing, while the groom and entourage also went upstairs to the main landing for the groom to sign the marriage contract. Tanvir was, to all appearances, the archetype of an Eastern prince whom you might expect to see in a film; very tall, moustachioed and handsome in his moghul outfit, topped by a turban which must have put his height at near seven foot. While the men sat in the main landing area, the women sat separately in bedrooms being used as 'overflow'. We now began a slow and nervy descent into near-farce. Once they were ready, the bridesmaids sneaked downstairs past the groom's party into the room where Zerina was being prepared - only to discover that she was already married, as she had now signed the contract. The electricity had failed earlier, making it hard for the video cameramen to do their stuff. It was also extremely hard to clear a path between the two downstairs rooms, through a number of villagers who had been gathering at the house over the past two days, and to keep guests out of the way. There were some heated discussions between the two families about exactly what was the correct sequence to follow next. The bride and bridesmaids were given a succession of conflicting stop-go instructions. The lack of action continued until almost twilight - by which time the video men were complaining that there was not enough light for their filming and so the procession should not proceed. I felt that this was a severe case of the tail wagging the dog. Eventually, the groom's family, becoming increasingly impatient and dissatisfied, brought the groom downstairs without waiting for the bridal procession, which then took place. The small room, with the bride and groom on the sofa, now became almost a scrum of photographers, friends and relatives all crowding around for a view of the couple. Even a beggar managed to creep into the room at one point. With the video lights and a large number of cameras clicking and flashing away for what seemed like an eternity, it became a hot and tense environment. Yet more feeding of sweets to the bride ensued, along with photographs of endless permutations of people joining the couple on or behind the sofa and giving gifts or money. Finally, the bride and groom drove off in a white limousine to the groom's family home in Lahore for the night, taking Parissa with them (it is an Islamic tradition that a female companion accompanies the bride). There were some tears from Zerina, another tradition, although I am sure they were all too genuine: she had had a long and trying day. I wasn't sure whether to feel pleased or sorry for her by this point. Amongst other things, it is a convention that the bride should spend the ceremony looking quiet and demure. This must have been an effort as Zerina is one of the last people to whom those adjectives could apply. All in all, what with the delays, confusion, loss of electricity and tensions between the two families, I think that we were all glad that the day was over. Wedding, part 3: relax The third stage took place in the impressive home of Tanvir's family in Lahore. In effect, it was a re-run of the previous day, only earlier in the day - starting at 1 pm. The ceremonial sofa was housed on a raised dais under a canopy in a central courtyard, with rows of chairs for the (exclusively male) audience. Women sat in overflow rooms to either side, where delicious food was also available later in the form of naan breads stuffed with minced lamb. The groom's family had taken Zerina to a local beautician (for four hours!) and she arrived some time after we did, looking radiant and happy. While waiting for the bride, we were given a tour of the house, including the bridal suite and the ceremonial chair where, on the Monday, Tanvir had been fed sweets and had oil applied to his hair. Tanvir was now attired in a Western style suit provided by the bride's family. He looked a lot more comfortable than the previous day in his more traditional outfit. The whole atmosphere was completely different from the previous day - altogether more relaxed. Maybe this was partly because our party arrived absolutely bang on time, hence giving the groom's family nothing to complain about (or maybe that is an uncharitable thought). One or two funny incidents took place. Tanvir came up to introduce himself to me about three seconds after I had accepted a bottled soft drink. We shook hands and, after a brief pause while my brain got out of neutral, embraced in the customary greeting (I was still holding the bottle, though - I hope he didn't notice). Ken and I were quizzed by a couple of the other guests about our children (lack of). Ken said he and Adriana had been married for a year. "And is it the will of God that you have no children yet?" Ken answered with superb diplomacy that it was partly that, and partly his and Adriana's will, aided by suitable precautions! When our inquisitor found out that I had been married for nine years, relief stole over his face…until I confirmed that I, too, had no children and no wish for any. Photographs of the happy couple and various others followed once more, and people came up one after another to present Tanvir with money as part of the ritual. Next to him, one of his sisters was recording each gift in a notebook. This is a pragmatic tradition, in case a divorce occurs later and the various gifts need to be returned. Another much-used phrase during the week, in answer to all manner of queries, was "It's traditional". At some points, the two families seemed to have different ideas of what constituted a tradition. This was altogether a more decorous and enjoyable day all round. Conclusion We did not leave until a couple of days later, giving time for a trip to Lahore on Thursday to see the Old Fort, the Mosque, the Minar-I-Pakistan (the monument to partition from India - their equivalent of the Eiffel Tower) and to do some shopping in one of the bazaars. But the purpose of our visit was now complete. It only remained for us to share a barbecue on the Friday, at which point sunny weather gave way to a spectacular storm; and to get up at 4 am on the Saturday for journeys by (death-defying) motor rickshaw, (less alarming) taxi and finally (actually quite relaxing) plane back to England. This article has only scratched the surface of our week in Pakistan. There isn't space to talk about the endless delays and frustrations in trying to arrange any type of journey. Nor is there time to ponder how it feels to see a dead cow being cut into pieces in a living room (on the Friday, the first day of Eid, as important a ceremony for Muslims as Christmas is for Christians). It is also worth mentioning that virtually no activity happened as planned or on time (hence the title of this article). Robert Burns' line that "The best laid plans o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley" might have been specially written for Pakistan. On the other hand, I enjoyed the food and I can't think that I will see a sheep being carried on the back of a moped anywhere else in the world! We were privileged
to be invited into a Pakistani home and to play a small part in an important
day in the life of a family and a dear friend. We'll remember it always. Now read on for a bridesmaid's view of the wedding... "The
Teapot's in Bahrain!" When I suddenly received an e-mail out of the blue from my old school friend Zerina, I was surprised to learn that she was getting married. I had always admired the way Zerina had studied for a PhD and become a research chemist, joined the Territorial Army and become a black belt in karate and I had not expected her to settle down and have an arranged marriage. I felt that this was an event I had to see, and the next thing I knew, I was being measured for a sari, and flying to Lahore to be bridesmaid. Three bridesmaids and two significant others duly arrived at Lahore airport, and not wishing to push ourselves forward, soon found ourselves at the end of the queue at immigration. When we had finally got through, we found Zerina, who had travelled out on an earlier flight with her brothers and one of her sisters, waiting for us. We had clearly had the better deal, for she told us that four of their suitcases were still in Bahrain, and were unlikely to arrive until Thursday - after the wedding. Fortunately her wedding clothes were being made in Pakistan, but she was missing vital things for the wedding, including clean underwear, chocolate, decorations, chocolate, coffee, chocolate and a hand-painted teapot (£2.50 from Woolworth's). "It's in Bahrain!" became the catchphrase of the week. The other catchphrase was 'it's traditional' which was used whenever we asked the reason for any of the ceremonies. This would have been fine, had both of the families involved agreed what the traditions were. We climbed into a minibus for the hour journey to Gujranwala, where Zerina's parents lived. The size of donkey used to pull carts seemed in inverse proportion to the size of the load. Many sheep, cattle and camels wore decorative collars, as the festival of Eid was only a few days away. We even saw a sheep travelling (reluctantly) on the back of a moped. On arrival at Zerina's parents' house, we were united with the rest of the wedding party. After refreshments, it was time to try on the clothes which had been made for us, and which were absolutely beautiful. We then went to the bazaar in search of bangles, but the prices were increased as soon as the shopkeepers saw us, despite our efforts to blend in. We had an early night to recover from the journey. The following day, we set off for the main bazaar in town by motorcycle rickshaw, which was a hair-raising experience. Our first stop was at a shoe shop. The boxes of shoes were kept in a sort of loft, and hurled down into the shop through a hole in the ceiling. We then found a better shop for bangles, where the henna for the evening ceremonies was also purchased and went on to the jewellers, where Zerina was having her necklace and head-dress for the wedding altered. We were there so long that they brought us soft drinks, which were very welcome in the heat. Our final call was to the tailor's to collect some of the clothes. Back at the house, the village people were gathering. The evening ceremonies started with a showing of the dowry and trousseau to the assembled crowd. We had changed into decorated outfits, but Zerina had to wear an unattractive outfit so that she would appear all the more beautiful the following day. Our next task was making mud pies out of henna in tinselled plates, and sticking candles in them. We then (eventually) lit the candles and paraded downstairs with them. At this point, the video cameraman hired by the family arrived, and we had to repeat the process, despite the fact that the candles were nearly burnt out. The cameraman fortunately noticed at the last minute that he still had his lens cap on! Having finally got the plates downstairs, we arranged them on the floor, whereupon we were supposed to do a sort of morris-like dance around them. I kept my two left feet in the corner of the room at this point. The next stage was another procession downstairs, this time with Zerina. We bridesmaids were supposed to be holding a scarf above her head, but as we were moving cautiously in the unaccustomed dress, she (characteristically) took the lead. This part of the ceremony, like many others, was not explained to us very well beforehand, so we had no idea what we were supposed to be doing. Zerina then sat on a chair whilst female guests, including us, took turns to pour oil on her head, put henna on her hand and feed her a sweet. The poor girl was looking quite green by the end. This was followed by singing and then the painting of henna designs on the hands, which went on well into the small hours. The wedding day began with breakfast upstairs. The arrangement was that the people who had come from the village slept in the downstairs rooms, while the visitors from England, including Zerina's brothers and sisters, slept upstairs. There were considerable altercations between Zerina's parents, particularly her father, and the younger generation about the rooms to be used for the ceremony. Zerina's original plan had been to use the main downstairs hall for the ceremony, and for the bridal procession to come down the stairs. Her father changed this, so that the ceremony was to take place in a smaller room downstairs, and the upstairs rooms to be used for extra guest seating. This left us with just one small room in which to dress, and which also contained everyone's luggage. We were told that the groom's party was expected at 1.00 p.m., but there was considerable confusion about getting ready. Having cleared the rooms, we put on make-up, and then went downstairs to help with the decoration of the room in which the ceremony was now to take place. We decorated a large mirror and the adjacent walls with strings of roses, concealed the entrance to the adjoining inside lavatory, and covered the sofa with a bedspread. Zerina's pearlised balloons being still in Bahrain, along with other decorations, we made balloon trees with helium filled balloons from the local 'balloon man'. A further period of waiting ensued, during which we gathered that the groom's party was now expected at around 4.30. At about 2.30 we had lunch (a packed lunch of chicken and rice, the same as that which had been supplied to the groom's party - it is against the law to feed the groom's party at weddings in Pakistan). We then went to change, only to discover that the groom had arrived. We rushed down, without our jewellery, to scatter rose petals, and then rushed back upstairs to finish dressing. During this time, we discovered later, the bride and groom separately signed the marriage register and were officially married. We then crept back downstairs to the room where Zerina was getting ready. At this point, there were long delays and total confusion. There had been a power cut for most of the day, and there was therefore no electricity to run the lights for the video cameraman. The groom's family lost patience, and went downstairs and sat him on the ceremonial sofa. Eventually, with the light beginning to fade, we started. It was less of a procession, and more of a push through the crowds. The bridesmaids lined up behind the sofa on which Zerina and her husband were sitting. The next stage should have been some fun for the bride's sisters. One of them was supposed to sit in the groom's way, and only agree to move when he offered her money. This was made more difficult by the fact that he was already sitting there, and that his family claimed not to recognise this 'tradition'. Her other sister's turn came next, and she offered him a drink in a suitably decorated cup (which looked to me rather like a very ornate McDonald’s milkshake). He did not offer her any money, however, but produced a ring for each of the bride's sisters. I don't think that he drank much of the drink, but he gave it to his brother - who nearly choked on it. The next stage was a long period where various people took turns to sit next to the happy couple, offer them money, and have their photos taken. Shortly after the sofa session began, the power came back on, and in addition to the natural heat generated by cramming a hundred or so people into a small room on a warm day, two very powerful video lights came on, making it unbearably hot. Eventually, we were allowed out from behind the sofa, while others took our place. After an hour or so, some of us escaped to the roof for some air. We then heard that the couple were leaving, and went downstairs to say goodbye to Zerina. Later on, we had a meal downstairs, and an opportunity to try the special wedding tea, which the guests had been given earlier, but the bridesmaids had missed. I thought it tasted rather like Ambrosia creamed rice, but my husband thought it was more like hot strawberry milkshake. The following day was the day for ceremonies at the groom's house. We piled into a minibus at about half past eleven, and we arrived at 1.00 p.m. Zerina was still at the beautician's when we arrived. The men sat in the main area; the women were seated in a room at the side, from which we could not see anything. After some time, we were asked if we would like to see the furniture that had been part of the dowry, and so we went up to the bridal chamber. The furniture was painted in gold, but looked quite nice. We also had a chance to meet the groom in a rather less formal setting. Eventually, Zerina arrived, we all rushed to greet her and ask if she was all right. There followed a similar routine to the previous day, with guests taking it in turns to sit on the sofa with the couple. The trip
was rounded off with guided sightseeing of Lahore led by Zerina's new
brother-in-law on the following day (who got shopping fatigue eventually!)
All in all, it was an unforgettable experience First published in a special issue of VISA for the TravelSIG 'Travellers' Tales' event at the Annual Gathering in London (July 2001) Read the report from Travellers' Tales |