A Tajik Wedding (Toi)

Instead of celebrating Independence Day at a party at the US Embassy with most of the Americans in my group, I gladly accepted an invitation to a Tajik wedding from one of my new friends, Sitora. Sitora works for one of the cell phone companies here and I met her when I bought a local cell phone plan. Her sister’s recent marriage was being celebrated. Sitora explained that as she was the oldest, she should actually marry before her sister. However, because she wants to continue her studies she insisted that her younger sister be allowed to marry first.

Upon arriving at the family’s apartment, I was ushered into a room where all of the women were celebrating. Most of them were older family members-not the many young friends one pictures at a Western wedding. The brides (it was actually a double celebration for two family members who had recently married) were absent. In fact, aside from several brief appearances, they remained in the back where the food preparation was happening. This was definitely a celebration for the more senior ranking family members. Most of the women were over fifty. All of them wore the beautiful, brightly colored Tajik dress. Everyone sat around the tablecloth on the floor. The tablecloth was spread with a variety of fruits (watermelon, apple, apricot, grapes), vegetables (tomatoes, cucumbers), candy, chocolate, cookies, cakes, sausage, cheese, salads, and of course non, or tandoor bread. Tea was constantly poured and handed out.

In one corner two musicians sang while playing drums. At first the song was slow and sad-sounding. However, it soon picked up tempo and some of the women started to dance. I later talked to the musicians and found out that they play at such events professionally. They were very excited that I am starting to study anthropology as they introduced themselves as folklorists. They provided other forms of entertainment as well, such as telling boisterous jokes and in generally keeping the atmosphere fun with their conversation. However, it seemed that these women might have been considered inappropriate in a different setting. Although they were right in the middle of the gathering with the guests, there seemed to be a distance maintained between them and the rest, as if professional entertainers were not quite on a level with everyone else. This was highlighted by their comparitively very outgoing, sometimes rowdy interaction.
As the music picked up, the brides finally made an appearance. Both wore sequined, bright dresses and held a sheer white, spangled veil over their heads. They entered, stood near the door, and bowed repeatedly as the music played and some of the women danced in front of them. They then quickly left the room again, projecting shyness. I asked Sitora where they had gone and she offered to show me. As we left the room, I was waylaid for a moment as the women got me to dance. But afterwards, we made our way to the kitchen. On the way, I glimpsed the room where the men were celebrating. They seemed to be quietly sitting and eating. Much the same as I noticed at weddings in Palestine last year, the women’s party seemed much more active and fun. Indeed, I noticed the same when I went to a party at the Pakistani ambassador’s house once in DC. I am glad I am a woman-I think the men try to appear as if they are important, discussing serious things, while the women are connecting and feeling and alive in the next room.

In the kitchen, various close female family members were cooking, washing dishes, and sending out new plates and among them were the brides. Weddings here are definitely not all about the girl that is getting married. Rather, they stay behind the scenes and during the several appearances they do make they remain partially veiled and bow, which appears to be a sign of obedience but I can’t be sure as Sitora was unable to explain it to me.
I returned to the main room in order to watch a skit of sorts that was being put on by one of the aunts and the sister-in-law. The sister in law was playing the shy innocent bride. The aunt, however, dressed as a man and painted on a mustache. She played a lewd husband who chased the “bride”, making gestures that at times could be interpreted as less than appropriate. They danced around like this until the “bride” collapsed in laughter.
As I talked and listened to the women more, I received yet more confirmation that to really understand this place, I will have to study Tajik, keep up my Russian, and eventually start on Uzbek. It quickly became apparent to me that a lot of Uzbek was being spoken. I asked about it, and found out that Sitora’s mother is, in fact, Uzbek. Sitora speaks with her mother in Uzbek and her father in Tajik (and in Russian at work). Many of the aunts, therefore, were Uzbek and all languages seemed to be intelligible to everyone. People shifted in and out from one language to the other, even mixing words within sentences. One of the musicians leaned in and told me that Uzbeks and Tajiks are the same, they live the same, they just speak different languages.

Soon the food was brought out. First they was a soup, I think it was called ugro or something similar, that was really one of the best things I have ever eaten. It had noodles, meatballs, and chickpeas. Then, of course, came the required osh, or plov-the standard fare of most Central Asian celebrations. This rice dish is sometimes compared to pilaf and this time had carrots, chickpeas, and beef. The ingredients can change slightly depending on the region and the availability of produce.

Then, after more dancing, the final part of the ceremony commenced. The groom entered with several friends while the brides stood next to them, again repeatedly bowing. The groom received a certain brightly colored cloth from the women, which he tied around his waist. Then, the wedding presents were brought in. The tablecloth had been cleared and a huge pile of bedding, clothing, household goods like plates and irons, bread, eggs, chocolate, sausage, cooked chicken and sambusa/samsa or meat filled pastry appeared. At the end, I prayer was recited and everyone passed their hands over their faces. Then, we all saw the bride and groom off to his house and that was the end. I was interested to learn that the groom has been working in a bazaar in Moscow for the past several years and actually seems to have been quite successful. The bride will join him there in August.

Sitora and I then played dress-up for a little while. That is to say, she dressed me in Tajik wedding clothes and took my picture. We then joined the remaining women in the living room. All those who had been working so hard in the kitchen were now lounging around the tablecloth and finally getting something to eat themselves. However, I couldn’t follow the conversation because it was in Uzbek. Like I said, my work will never be done as years of language training seem to be stretching before me.

As it was starting to get dark, I decided I had better head back to my apartment. A treat bag with candy, cookies, fruit and sambusa was prepared for me and a bowl of osh was also packed. Sitora also gave me both a man’s wedding scarf and two women’s scarves to remember the evening. But, really I would never forget it anyways.