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Published: January 16th 2011
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Turkish Wedding (part 3) – Nikah - (pron: NEE-kya)
We had to jump through a lot of hoops in order to get to our nikah (See Turkish Wedding parts 1 and 2), which perhaps made it feel somewhat like a prize we had earned. In spite of all the planning, however, it felt, and still feels, more like a dream or a movie I watched than a ceremony I participated in. Here's what I knew about the ceremony before I participated in it: precious little.
I had been told, fortunately, that I didn't actually have to recite any vows. That was Mr. Bureaucrat's job. All I had to say was "evet" (yes) to whatever it was he had said. Yes, I do speak and understand Turkish, but I don't have the slightest idea what I agreed to at my wedding. Between my nerves and the acoustics, how could I be expected to understand? I'm not sure that having an interpreter would have helped. And what does it really matter, anyway? The truth of the matter is that marriage is not a simple relationship. You marry the person you chose, and who chose you. You also marry their
family, whom you do not choose - and technically, your spouse didn't choose them either. Nor did they choose your spouse. So lots of people who did not have any say in their status as "family" become united. And there are lots of things you agree to that are surely not included in marriage vows. Every family is a world, and whatever I agreed to on that day, it's been great.
The second thing I had to do was step on my new husband's foot, which was explained to me by my future mother-in-law. According to tradition, whoever steps on whoever's foot first will have the upper hand in the relationship. I don't know if my future mother-in-law was simply explaining the tradition to me or encouraging me to step on her son's foot, but I'm very grateful for the explanation. I would have been very surprised indeed if the first thing my new husband did after signing his name to the marriage book, was to step on my foot. For the record, neither of us managed to tromp on the other's foot. Call it coincidence or superstition, but we do have a good balance of power in our
marriage!
But before we each said yes, and before we tried to step on each-others' feet, and before my husband forgot to kiss me (yes, he did forget, but was reminded by the audience), we were driven to the state wedding hall by a friend. We were running late, and you can't really be late to a nikah at a state wedding hall because the weddings are booked in half-hour increments. We arrived there well after the guests, who were all seated in the hall, watching the stage. Turkey is a secular country that is 99% Muslim, and your wedding doesn't count unless you have it registered by the state. The ceremony is conducted by a state bureaucrat (not religious clergy), though you can elect to have a separate religious wedding at home.
Once at the wedding hall, we were escorted (read: rushed) into an antechamber before we were to enter the hall. Rather than relaxing an catching his breath or perhaps reminding me what I was supposed to do or say, my future husband spent the next 3 minutes on the phone with Turkish Airlines, trying to find out when we could expect to receive the lost
baggage of a friend who had come to our wedding from the US. It was obviously too late for them to make use of the dress clothing they had in their luggage. But, just like in the movies, the chaos had to be created because as we all know, weddings have to be chaotic so that we have good stories to tell later. Right?
And then, before I had a chance to ask any questions, the doors opened. Out we walked, together, to the stage. Making our entrance to the world as a couple. At that moment, I understood what wedding were all about. Until that time, to me it was just something people did. I thought that simpler was better, just invite a couple of people and get on with life. But at that moment, it occurred to me that it mattered that having our friends and family watch us become married people was what it was all about. It was the acceptance of the community that really did matter. They became our supporters, our pillars.
Our families and friends were already seated. My dad was probably a little sad that he didn’t get to walk me down the aisle (he would get to do that at our US wedding the following month). Our witnesses, my husband-to-be’s brother-in-law and oldest uncle, sat at a table on the stage. Yes, it was a stage – it felt like theater. I was acting in a play and I had learned my line (“evet”) but hadn’t learned the lines of the others, so I wasn’t sure when to speak. I did figure it out – when Mr. Bureaucrat stopped talking and looked at me. Before long, everyone had said what they were supposed to have said, we both signed our names in the marriage register, and we were married.
Gold Traditionally, there are no bridal registries created for Turkish weddings. When you get married, you don’t receive china or crystal or silver that you chose at a department store (nor do you get such things that you didn’t choose and later don’t know what to do with). What do you receive? Gold. After the Nikah, my new husband and I, my parents, my brothers, my new parents-in-law and siblings-in-law stood in a receiving line. While our parents and siblings received congratulations, we received gold. Safety-pinned onto my wedding dress and onto my husband’s tuxedo were gold coins of varying sizes, decorated with red ribbons. A good reason to invite lots of people to your wedding, I suppose! The gold adds up, and it also looks very pretty pinned onto the wedding dress and tuxedo! Turkey must be a huge market for safety pins.
Leaving the Nika After taking dozens of pictures with family and friends, we made our way to our car, decorated with flower arrangements and just married banners. A few little boys, no relation to us, as far as I know, blocked the doors to the car, and we had to pay them to let us in. We then had to pay them again to get out of our way so we could drive to the reception. In the end, we didn’t have to pay Mr. Bureaucrat his desired bribes in order to get married, but we couldn’t escape all of the obstacles in our path. I choose to think that this tradition is not trying to teach the lesson that money is all you need to clear your obstacles, but a tradition that rewards children for taking advantage of the joy of newlyweds. Call it redistribution of wealth ☺
And now, finally, we were married. We had jumped through all the hoops, we had signed our names to the book in front of friends and family. At last, we could celebrate…
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Rachel
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Exemplary post!!
Great article. You have articulated TURKISH WEDDING in a very nice way. Do visit : http://www.sunnamarriages.com/