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    Saxarla’a and Saxardeed’s Anticlimactic Hour
    They have been planning for this magnificent moment for nearly a year. Its
    illusion of course cannot be underrated as the fusion of two distinct
    individuals especially when observed symbolically as being the initial step to
    a new life.  However, the modernity, verve and zest surrounding this hour have
    been anything but the image of stability and harmony.  From the deepest
    recesses at home to the most sophisticated hotels in the West, Saxarla’s and
    Saxardeed’s hour seems to share one sad character with the rest: chaos. One
    wonders if chaos is an inherent gene?  Is chaos an intrinsic cultural aspect?
    Isn’t it time groups reflect at their chaotic wedding in an examination of
    deeper problem at home? Or is the difficulty with the imitation of something
    that isn’t familiar to the best of them.  Saxarla’s and Saxardeed’s bathetic
    wedding reception demonstrates lack of discipline that snatches the limelight
    from the thing itself. Months of planning advertised this wedding well before
    it happened, which has built the emotions of those involved into destructive
    energy.  Superficially the wedding imitate western model until the moment
    arrived. On the night of the wedding, it is hard to believe that anything was
    planned. Bewildered Saxarla’ glides into the reception dragging along her
    clumsy white dress like the Chinese dragon, exposing those places that were
    supposed to be covered while half of the dress flows on the floor like a river.
    Tethered in her own design, she totters into the hall in the hands of a vague
    groom amidst relatives and friends who forever bustle in front and all around
    them like bees in a beehive. Young more baffled flower girls and ring bearers
    carrying bulky baskets, zigzag along the path of the bride and groom,
    surprisingly encouraging more volunteers to exacerbate the crowd around the
    newlyweds. As cacophonous supposedly well wishing cries of African/Arabic or
    English origin usher them into the reception hall, few ululations cut through
    like the whistle of a referee against a serious violation. From the blush
    wallpaper illuminated by fabulous chandeliers to the posh white tables cloths
    accentuated with pink, purple or green trimmings everything seems immaculately
    designed until they arrive. Chaos reigns from the moment they step out of the
    limousine and all that conscious planning becomes devastated when the
    irrational asserts its grip. Saxarla’ and Saxardeed step onto a dazzling stage
    with two chairs clearly for them but neither they nor their volunteers seem
    sure of where the newlyweds should sit.  Saxarla’ clumsily slumps into one of
    the chairs then changes seats with Saxardeed while the social bees bumble up
    and down the stage to strengthen her dress or wipe sweat from her eyebrow.
    Almost one third of the guests suddenly become helpers, and decisions from how
    the newlyweds should hold hands to where and how they should cut the cake
    happen spontaneously on the spot.  Should they drink from the two separate
    glasses or rather, more romantically, from two straws in the same glass creates
    a tussle.  Must greet guests competing to shake the couples hands compel the
    newlyweds into backward and sideward glances threatening the veil and the
    artistic hairstyle. One wonders if the manner and method of greeting guests
    wasn’t in the planning but then one assumes something as important as the grand
    entrance was planned in advance.  Why can’t anyone seem to know what to do at
    the moment of truth? “Watch out for these bumble bees.  I am afraid they will
    trip me,” whispers Fay to her mother thinking about her upcoming wedding. From
    lack of order or too much of it, Saxarla’ and Saxardeed are ushered up the
    stage then to the dance floor for strange and infamous waltz.  After few
    mumbles of the holy Qur’an read hastily and often imperfectly, the stage opens
    for a disco like festivity beginning with the newlyweds. “When in our culture
    did the bride and groom dance on their wedding?” Whispers an old guest to her
    neighbour who dismisses her with a gesture. Then comes the equally infamous
    cake.  This odd cake cutting tradition never lacks unhelpful directors who
    frustrate the bride and groom.  In spite of a knife in a conspicuous place and
    the hope that the newlyweds might have an idea what to do with it, helpers move
    the knife upward and around in ritualistic mode before they allow them to cut
    the cake.  One wonders why wasn’t this rehearsed before? Waiters in starched
    uniform observe stiffly in shocking silence as more guests than they can feed
    flow into the hall.  They stand spellbound wondering of whom to serve and whom
    to ignore since there is no indication of who is invited or who is a guest of a
    guest. Guests straddling around to greet long lost friends create more traffic
    in an already crowded hall.  All in the middle of unusually loud music, which
    though of African origin has metamorphosed into something peculiar.  At least
    some African words offer comic relief in this tragic event until it is time for
    a cultural dance. This beautifully rhythmic cultural expression has been
    reduced to a messy strings of songs rendered a wail through a horrendous
    microphone combined with some unsynchronized jumps which are followed by few
    negotiations that goes on and off for a few minutes until they abandon the idea
    itself. Unfortunately, the culture represented by this disorganized dance is
    deserted immediately like the rest of traditional values. The beauty of
    Africa’s famous drum never exudes from this traditional dance and yet the sole
    beat of the drum moved mountains in the continent.  “Are we incapable of
    holding on to the thing dearest to us?” Cries a plump lady whose impromptu
    moves landed her on a chair nearby.
    Western wedding is planned to the minuscule detail.  Rehearsals with all
    parties concerned are routine practice before the wedding.  Guests come dressed
    appropriately not to steal the spotlight from the bride.  Most of all, the
    bride in her chosen dress must have made attempts to be comfortable with it.
    Even for the people, who invented it, if they have to dance, practise the waltz
    quite well.  Nothing is perfect without practice so why does this crowd imitate
    something unfamiliar to them and hope everything to be perfect without
    In spite of these frantic scenes, the marriage goes on, but one wonders about
    the process that led up to this disarray.  Clearly a lot of energy has been
    exerted to have an immaculate wedding not to mention enormous amounts of money.
    If irrationality rules as a way of life, why can’t the young couple save their
    energy and money to enjoy a disco style dance before going off to a relaxing
    honeymoon?  It seems unfair for Saxarla’s and Saxardeed’s debut to appear more
    like a street fight than a planned wedding reception.  They deserve better.
    Should the most sacred Qur’an be trivialized to introduce things prohibited by
    its injunctions?   Should guests not remain guests as a matter of courtesy in
    this tragicomedy?
    Rhoda A. Rageh
    Bahda Mareegta Farshaxan
    Soo Bandhige: Fu,aad Sh.
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