A Moroccan Wedding

After lunch, we checked out of the hotel and took a harrowing taxi ride to the Gare Jelel, to then catch a grand taxi to Ben Ahmed, where our friend (well, my cousin's friend) lives and works. Grand taxis are the workhorse of the Moroccan public transportation system. You pay for your place in the sedan-like vehicle, usually a Mercedes from the 80s, and when the taxi is full (6 people plus the driver in a car built for 5), you head toward your destination. So I basically sat on Darick's lap for an hour drive to Ben Ahmed, in a very hot car with some very smelly men.

After some phone trouble and some hassle, N's fiance, I, found the only Westerners at the taxi stand and took us back to N's apt to hang out until her hair was done. He made us Moroccan tea and we lounged and napped for a few hours before heading to the wedding of I's good friend, Youssif. Youssif was so kind as to invite us to come to the wedding party with N and I—apart from us four, the wedding guests were all family.

Moroccan weddings last from around 11 pm or midnight until sunrise. We hung out with family members until the party started at 11, when N and I put on our borrowed Moroccan wedding clothes. Youssif and his family and in-laws were so kind and
welcoming to us! They fed us tea and cookies and invited us to be around them. We were seated at the guest table, and the bride's uncle, Hajj, kept handing us the best parts of the meat, insisting we kept eating. Family members grabbed us and kept pushing us to the front of crowds to see the action more clearly. Youssif's mother held my hand and made sure I felt comfortable. All of this and everyone spoke little or no English, or even French. It was wonderful.

And the party was wild! There was a band of women playing Berber music (Berbers are the original Moroccans) and great dancing, particularly by the women in their beautiful wedding clothes. The bride and groom parade into the party, dressed to the nines, and they sit in this chariot-like thing. They carry the bride around in it over their shoulders, and then the bride and groom sit in these silver and gold thrones so that everyone can have their picture taken with them. Then they exit, the bride changes into a new dress, and the parade begins again. She wore six dresses that night. Somewhere in the middle, we all stop for dinner, which is tagines eaten Moroccan style—communal, and with our hands.

It was crazy, and so much fun. People kept pulling us back up to dance again. At one point, the electricity went out for an hour, and we had to run the party on generators! By late morning, I was exhausted and crashed on a couch, but the party didn't end until breakfast was served around seven am. All weddings should be that fun.