The Teapot's in Bahrain!

When I suddenly received an e-mail out of the blue from my old school friend Z, I was surprised to learn that she was getting married.  I had always admired the way Z had studied for a PhD, become a research chemist, joined the Territorial Army and become a black belt in karate and I had not expected her to settle down. 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.

Sightseeing in Lahore

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 Z, 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 and a half journey to Gujranwala, where Z’s parents lived.  There were lots of animals in the streets.  The size of donkey used to pull carts appeared to be 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 Z’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.  I was slightly concerned to discover (after dark) that there was no electric light in the upstairs (on the balcony) lavatory.

Bazaar, Gujranwala

The following day we set off for the main bazaar in town by motorcycle rickshaw, which was a hair-raising experience.  This was a ladies' trip, but my husband apparently counted as an honorary girl. 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 Z 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 Z 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 Z. 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.

Z 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 Z’s brothers and sisters, slept upstairs.  There were considerable altercations between Z’s parents, particularly her father, and the younger generation about the rooms to be used for the ceremony. Z’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 would 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.  Z’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 in advance to the groom’s party – we were told it was 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 Z 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 Z 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 McDonalds 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 his brother 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 Z.

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. Z was still at the beautician’s when we arrived. The men sat in the main area, whereas the women were seated in a classroom at the side, from which we could not see anything. This   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. We also had a chance to meet the groom in a rather less formal setting.  Eventually Z arrived, we all rushed to greet her.  There then 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 Z’s new brother-in-law on the following day.  I don’t think he knew what he was letting himself in for though.  He had a severe case of shopper’s fatigue by the time my fellow bridesmaids could be prised out of the bazaar at 10.00 p.m.

All in all, it was an unforgettable experience. I feel very privileged to have been invited to take part.