I Got Henna-ed

It’s an elaborate process, that I found quite enjoyable.

1. Have a big home cooked meal of couscous & lamb (although I already ate lunch before I came since the date was for a non-lunch time, oh well!).
2. Arrange the cushions and recline while I select my favorite sticker-stencils to use for the henna pattern.
3. Chuckle to myself as the women decide I have not, in fact, picked the best designs, and they make the selections for me.
4. Argue as I fight vainly against having my hands henna-ed – I teach adults and don’t want men to see it. The compromise: henna only on the inside of my left hand. Reality: henna on the inside and all over my fingers of my left hand!
5. The women carefully apply the stickers, bordered by medical tape.
6. They mix the henna, a secret concoction of the henna powder and other unknown ingredients – this lady is renown for making the darkest henna around, and she guards her recipe!
7. I enjoy the feeling as they put the cold henna all over my feet and legs, making a thick mask
8. They cover the mask with tissues, then wrap me in giant plastic bags, and cover me with a blanket against the cold of the henna.

9. I lie back to relax and nap as we wait, and I feel chilly.
10. I begin to feel warm as the bags keep in my body heat and humidity.
11. I begin to feel very warm, then hot and I notice condensation forming on the inside of the bags.
12. After two hours the tender skin on my ankles and calves is burning! The women are pleased since thins means the henna will be dark.
13. After three hours I must begin to head home. They women begin to peal off the layers. Out come the dessert spoons as they scrape off the henna mask. While the application was enjoyable, this part was ticklish!

14. They rubbed my new henna with special oil, then olive oil when the henna oil ran out I was instructed to apply more oil, and Vicks Vapor rub, and to avoid water for a day.

The results:

NB: Henna does not smell good and the aroma lingers for quite a while - which is why some women don't henna at all...their husbands don't like the smell.

The Adventure of Changing Plans

For our mid-term break we headed to a desert city music festival. We arrived early at the ‘taxi depot’ downtown, looking for a mini-van taking travelers on the 8 hour trip. Come to find out, they only depart at 4pm so that they can make the journey at in the cool of night. We chose to submit to their times rather than hire a private car. But, at 4pm when there weren’t enough takers to fill the van, we headed to a house on the outskirts of town to fill up with Tuaregs heading across the desert to Niger. The trip was long since we stopped for tea breaks, dinner, and checkpoints where each time our fellow-travelers piled out to be patted down and inspected. We arrived at 3am!

The next day we discovered that the music festival had been canceled for some reason. Fortunately, a familiar face pulled over, excited to see us...it was the driver-tour guide from our excursion last spring. Now friends, he invited us to accompany him as he showed around group of local friends who work in the oil fields together. We visited another ancient city; watched dune races, and attended a Tuareg festival where Jared was interviewed by the national news – what novelty to have a whitey from the US there! And we ate rishda (tender handmade noodles) in the old city, where they got a kick out of dressing us in their traditional wedding garments.

It was a spontaneous and extremely enjoyable trip – and Jared made some wonderful new friends who are genuinely good guys. It was my first time to really be around local men, since there was no where else for me to go. But these mid-twenty year olds were so kind and respectful to me; it was a great experience for me too, balancing out my normal horn-honking and stare-down encounters!

A Groom Wedding

I attended my first groom-sponsored wedding. It was quite a different experience than being with brides' families. I participated in three days of the event:

Day #1
I went in the afternoon and ate lunch with the old women of the family, each of whom were missing more teeth than they had. This was a powerful grouping of all the aunties and grandmothers. There were two big tents sent up in the street outside, one for the women, and the other for men. Later we sat around the perimeter on wide cushions, eating snacks, dancing in the middle, and just being together. I helped to apply tuna to the mini-pizzas the family bought to serve.

Day #2
I missed the large-scale feast because I was teaching. The night before I noticed laundry baskets full of soaking chickpeas for humus, bushels of potatoes, and cases of cokes. That night I attended another evening party. This time a display of gifts from the groom’s family to the bride took center stage in the tent. I was asked to photograph the display since I had a digital camera.

After waiting for three hours, listing to the drumming and chanting of the women, we all piled into cars and mini-vans. My van contained the sisters and cousins, with the drums and was quite the party-wagon. We careened through the narrow streets with the entourage blaring their horns in celebration – we were taking the gifts to the bride’s house.

At the bride’s house, she had a plush tent sent up in her courtyard, full of her friends/family. We nibbled on almond cookies & sipped almond milk & green tea. The gifts were displayed in the middle, and after an hour the bride entered the tent to ululations. She wore the traditional large white draping cloth, which draped down to cover her face. She was preceded by a women holding a mirror facing the bride. They slowly circled the gifts several times. Finally, she sat, and felt the gifts. She tossed some herbs over her shoulder, and ate something. I never did see her face that night. After many hours, we resumed our cars and traveled back, amid much celebrating. Jared and I found each other and made our exit home.

[Embarrassing!: Night #1 I struggled to walk through the sand in my high-healed shoes. However, arriving at the house, we all took off our shoes and left them in a great pile while we walked barefoot on the carpeted tent floor. Wising up, Night #2 I wore my more comfortable and less-dressy work shoes. However, when I began to remove my shoes, they told me to leave them on for this evening. *Groan,* scuffed, brown, flat shoes did not go with my formal dress! I tried my best to hide them, and chose to ditch them at my chair most of the evening. I did the same at the bride’s tent, but when I was beckoned up to the front row, I forgot to take them with me. Ever-kind women passed them to me through the crowd – giving them all a chance to see and touch those ugly, brown shoes!]

Day #3
I arrived at 10pm, knowing that is the usual time for the real festivities to begin. However, it didn't occur to me that 10pm is when the bride enters her women’s party, when they eat the cake, and then have dinner followed by more dancing. I didn't realize we were waiting for that bridal party to finish! So, we sat, and sat, and sat. At two AM excited girls piled into the van with drums to go get the bride. After a bit, we heard the noise of their return and all the women hurried to cover themselves. The bottom ropes of the tent were cut and a Hyundai sedan came right into the tent! Inside, there was the bride and the groom. He escorted her up to the front, where an elaborate bridal love seat had prime position in front of a tiered wedding cake, and flutes of orange nectar. They sat for a long while. Some of us took pictures with the couple – I was invited as a display of tokenism – the token [white] foreigner! Then they fed each other cake and juice, in the best of ‘western’ wedding tradition. There seemed to be great importance on everyone eating cake – and none could be left over. I rolled home about 3:30am, with a plate of cake for Jared. Teaching the next day was a bit of a struggle...