Wedding!

The Pictures are not working. Here are a few.

The invitations were sent last week, but everyone had known the date and location for at least a month already anyway. I ended up included in the select group of about 20 close friends and family that would accompany the bride and groom all day. For us, the day started at 9am at the apartment of the couple. There were about 6 guys at the apartment hanging out, watching some TV, snacking on a spread of food prepared by the bride’s younger sister and good friend. After some food and pleasantries, all the guys headed outside here we decorated the cars of the wedding party. Having a caravan of cars drive around with the wedding party is a fixture of weddings in Kyrgyzstan. Each car is festooned with ribbons and balloons. The car with the bride and groom is topped off with some flowery decorations of white flowers and lace. Driving from one place to another, the cars beep their horns pretty much constantly and flaunt traffic laws (which are, by US standards, barely heeded as it is). The bride and groom, of course, ride in style. In this case a new Mercedes, driven and “owned” by a 21 year old. His father’s job was a “secret.” The bride and groom are free to associate all day long. In fact, socially, they are often considered married before the ceremony, especially if the wife is pregnant.

Around 10am we headed for the registratsia (registration). The registratsia is the actual ceremony. Usually a smaller group of closest relatives and friends are invited. The happy couple had picked a popular place for the ceremony, the registration center near the center of Bishkek. For an outsider, it is an odd place. The architecture is Soviet, the idea of being registered with the government as married is fairly Soviet (the Soviet’s pushed this as a fitting alternative to religious wedding ceremonies) but it presents itself, and is seen to be (and therefore is), romantic. It’s probably pretty clear that I would consider this place to be very romantic myself. I just want to make my bias clear.

When we arrived the parking lot was already full of limousines and other finer autos decked out with ribbons and balloons. Going inside the first thing in front of you is a large grand staircase leading to large high doors. Clearly that’s where the procession does down. On either side of the staircase on the second floor one can look over a railing onto the stairway. Underneath these on the first floor is a bridal dress shop and open, unused space. Everything is faux-marble.

When we went inside the wife and maid of honor stepped aside into a small room. As the rest of us waited a freshly married couple emerged from the large high doors and made their way down stairs. They posed for some photos with family and friends and such before politely being ushered out the door. The building photographer let us know that we should get the bride and start. While someone fetched the bride, everyone except the parents of the couple, the best man and maid of honor and the couple themselves made their way to the overlooking area on the second floor by a side stairwell. Some classical music began from the house speakers. The procession made its way up the stairs. We followed them into the main room.

The center of the room was cordoned off from the guests. Our photographer tried to cross the boundary and was immediately put into place once more by a security guard dressed exactly as a security guard. The ceremony was conducted by a woman dressed traditionally, though semi-casually (some of the traditional outfits get elaborate). Her role was well rehearsed though by no means monotonous. She spoke about all of the happy and good things in store for the couple. The couple was asked to light a torch from a flame in a sort of cauldron, about the size and shape of a birdbath. They held the torch together and this signified their love. While classical marriage music played from the CD near the speaker, the ceremony conductor gave the equivalent of the “I do” speech before asking the parents if they protested the marriage. Then they put the rings on each other’s hands before signing the papers. Having signed the papers (the best man and bride’s maid serving as witnesses) they were pronounced man and wife. We all applauded and more classical music played us out of the room.

This time everyone used the side stairway as the previous party wrapped up their picture taking on the grand staircase. Then we started taking pictures and they kindly invited me now and then to join in a picture of the bride’s side of the family. From this point on I played the part of photographer because my camera is pretty good and it kept me from feeling awkward as the only person I knew beyond introduction was the bride.

We took more pictures outside of the building. Then we drove about 3 blocks away to the Great Patriotic War memorial (a staple of any Soviet inhabitance, its size and grandeur proportional to the size of the community). There we took more pictures and the toasting began. They asked me to give a toast but I didn’t really understand what was going on. (I thought they were insisting that I have a second glass of champagne, and in my defense, the word ‘toast,’ pronounced exactly as in English, was never uttered). The father and brother in-law of the bride had already given toasts. As the video camera rested for an awkwardly long time on me, I went through some denial and dread before coming to terms with the situation. Panicked, I stuck to English which at least the bride and the brother in-law would understand. Next time I’ll be prepared.

After more pictures and toasts, we released a couple of white pigeons which was pretty fun. We all piled back in our cars and headed for another park where still more pictures were snapped, this time just friends as family rested up for the big night ahead. The bride and groom filmed a funny little video that I only caught the tail end of about the groom finding the bride in the park. It was getting towards 12 or even 1 and everyone was starting to get hungry. Such as it was, however, we were running behind and had to skip lunch. We had another park to attend to.

This next park was “Manas Village.” The government built the park in 1995 to commemorate the 1000^th Anniversary of the Manas epic (think the Oddessy and the Illiad combined but not like Aenis… more like 10 times longer and way more central to people’s national identity). The park is full of little concrete landmarks and bits of Kyrgyz nationhood. Overall, it’s an alright park. Guarding the entrance are orphans who refuse to let you pass without paying them. Such is their right according to the traditions of Islam. But its gotten to be a little too profitable and fun what with half the wedding parties in Bishkek coming to the park. We made more toasts. Vodka was introduced nefariously by the younger brother of the groom.

We headed for the place of the reception, about 40 minutes outside of town and nearer to the relatives. By now the driver was well-tipsied. I wish I had been more so as we swung into the oncoming lane and passed fully loaded trucks on the right shoulder around bends in the middle of villages.

The last leg of the wedding journey was roughly equivalent to a reception. About 200 friends and family gathered at a café in a village on the outskirts of Bishkek’s orbit. At one end of the rectanglar room sat the bride and groom, nearest to them were seated the elder relatives. Further away was the closer family including parents, siblings, aunts and uncles. Near the “back” friends and cousins sat next to the speakers and open space. All evening long relatives would give toasts and pass along well wishes for the new family. Awaiting us was a huge spread of food.

An MC introduced the new couple who made their way down the length of the room accompanied by more classical wedding music and showered with gold coins tossed by a grandmother. Almost as soon as they had reached the table, the toasting and happy wishes began. The toasting roughly followed the seating arrangement. The eldest began. Everyone basically repeated the same fond hopes of wealth, happiness, health, and a large family. Their were no funny stories about the couple or much variation away from this theme but the sincerety of the speakers was touching. The couple stood each time they received a blessing. With some 200 people at the reception, the speaking occupied at least 3 of the 6 hours of the reception. Often the parents stood near the speakers in acknowledgement as well. It was remarkable to see so consistent and strong a public demonstration of respect. It also appeared by to quite onerous for the family and couple who already had had such a long and emotional day.

As the MC called up a group of people to wish the couple well, the musicians/DJs (two guys with a keyboard, a soundboard and a pair of microphones would play music while they made their way to the speaking area. The music and the shuffling past row upon row of spectator reminded me of the Price Is Right. After the group of friends or relatives had offered their best wishes, one would remain. He or she would then sing a traditional Kyrgyz song. The musicians would try to find a tune and/or beat on their keyboard that matched the song. At least half the time the match was poor. The singer either had to distort the song to try and make it fit the synthesized music or ignore the back tune such that two distinct tunes and tempos were going at once. Despite the unfortunate use of the keyboard, it was great that people sang old songs in front of friends and family. The willingness to sing mirrored the willingness to dance. The young and old tore up the rug during much appreciated interludes from the speeches. It was during this singing and dancing that the couple was somewhat free to sit down and eat, though much of this time was taken up thanking the speakers face-to-face, accepting presents and socializing.

I sat at the back amongst the cousins. I knew it was trouble as soon as I saw where I would be seated. A couple of young mothers with 1 year-olds were the only element diluting the mass of 20-something men. Surrounding 20-something Kyrgyz men with more 20-something Kyrgyz men creates a positive feedback loop with the negative outcome of drinking a lot of vodka. In this case (and in most others), bad vodka. This sort of unfortunate social reinforcement can be seen at work among politicians of political bodies, bureaucrats in bureaucracies, fraternities full of frat boys and musical festivals full of dirty, dirty hippies. I employed all my favorite preventative measures: I complained about stomach issues of late (true), said that I don’t like vodka (also and increasingly true) and I ate lots of food all night. At 12a I managed to walk away from the wedding in a straight line. When I got back home I drank a little water as cure and woke up feeling fresh and fine.