Palestinians know how to do weddings. Step one: hors d'oeuvres (fresh pita and family-style dips). Step two: dance (hands in the air, side-to-side, with the bride and groom as the centripital focus). Step three: main course (meat, potatoes, fried potato and cheese items, vegetables). Step four: dance again. Step five: dessert. Step six: keep dancing!
When I thought about why our money changer invited us to his nephew's wedding, I came to two possible conclusions: 1. American kids like to dance. I'm not sure if they think we're crazy or if they enjoy the spectacle, but they get a kick out of it. Aladdin (our money changer) pushed us to the dance floor, and the videographer gave us way too much footage, considering that we had never met the bride or groom. 2. The bride was Dutch and the groom was Palestinian; they needed someone to sit with the bride's family to put them at ease. I'm not sure how much we helped. The parents of the bride were experiencing their very first taste of Palestinian culture. They looked a little shocked when the drummers crowded around them and when they were pulled into the center of the dance floor, but they embraced it. I hope I never forget their faces. The collision of cultures was a fascinating thing to watch.
On whole, the wedding was a people-watcher's dream. My table consisted of a Canadian tour-guide, an Israeli soldier, an Arabic money-changer, four Mormon kids, and the Dutch family of three. The food was great, the dancing was a riot, and the music was fun, but what delighted most me was the silent ethnographic inquiry that tickled my mind all evening long.
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