Scotch & Sand

26th October 2009

Post with 1 note

Wedding Iraqi Styles

Wedding number two in Syria. This one Iraqi. I returned to the scene of the crime in Zebidaany to find… more sheeps’ brain! I must be the luckiest cracker in Syria! There we were, myself, a couple Syrians and 40 to 50 Iraqi refugees. One could naturally see how this might be touch awkward for an American, but it wasn’t. In all honesty I’ve scarce met a family as wonderful and warm as Siraj’s. We talked, and ate… and ate and ate and danced. I met a man who I’m quite sure was a body double for Saddam back in the day; smiling amicably, cigarette dancing under a walrus’ mustache. Christ what a moustachio he had! Uncle Saddam did some dancing later that evening, even I couldn’t dodge that bullet. The circle was formed and away we went!

Step, step, step, kick. Counterclockwise. Always this direction.

The beauty of dancing like this is that it’s designed for people like me…. people who have no rhythm that is. Sure you can add variations and the good dancers shine, but it’s inclusive so even me and the Stache could get down. On and on and on it went. Then evil happened. Siraj and his sister Hajyr decided to dedicate a few “American” songs to me. Never mind that one of these songs was in spanish, another was by Shakira, not to be confused with the one in spanish, and the third was some rap song I wasn’t familiar with. Then I was informed to “dance like and American” whatever the hell that means. So, I made an ass out of myself. I don’t suppose differs from normal days by that much. After my second wedding, I’m ready for a break. Ten hours of partying with an hour commute on either end is enough for me. Probably for the best that alcohol wasn’t involved. Back to school!