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Jonathan Estrella
Dr. Erica Gibson
ANTH 102/SEC 008
15 February 2013
A Wedding in Nasiriyah
My name is Ahmad Majed Sanaa. Yesterday was the sixteenth day of Dhu al-Hijjah in
the Anno Hegirae 1427. You Americans would know this better as the fifteenth of December in
the year 2008. It was the day I married my wife.
Life has changed considerably in Iraq since the presence of American soldiers. Our
freedom to travel is restricted. Our celebrations are limited. Our buildings are old, crumpled, or
destroyed. Our streets still feel the pain inflicted upon them by mankind, and voices still scream
out in anguish for the lives lost of those they love Iraqi and American both. Our spirits do not
yield, though; Allah guides us and strengthens us. He brings us perseverance and joy because of
our faithfulness and our submission to Him. Through tragedy, we prevail and celebrate; we find
the means to praise Him still.
My father married twenty-nine years ago, at the height of conflict between Iraq and Iran
before it turned into a war. He was a good and simple man, a construction worker. His wedding
was a much more private matter, and he was able to travel to our capital, Baghdad, and enjoy
time away from the neighborhood with his wife. It was during this night that I was conceived. I
would not be as lucky to receive such freedom; during American intervention, travel was not
limited, but much more difficult and dangerous. Safety and assurance came by staying home.
This is enough talk of the past, but I need you Americans to understand my situation. This war in
my country does much to damage us, physically, and limits many of our freedoms for the

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assurance of safety, but it does not dampen our spirits. We still live and love and celebrate, just
as I am sure many of you Americans would in my situation.
Before the celebration began, those close to me were invited. I sought out my friends and
family, offering invitations to the day of celebration all men of course, as only men attend the
wedding celebration. I know in America this means sending pretty, decorated cards or letters.
This is not true in Iraq. Life is more personal, and there is much emphasis on community.
Nothing is more personal than direct conversation, and this is how invitations must be presented.
I met personally with all of my friends at work, my friends outside of work, and my family
located in Nasiriyah to invite them to the wedding. Only those family members who live outside
of Nasiriyah received an impersonal phone call invitation, and only if I felt they are close enough
to actually attend. To deny the invitation of a wedding could be viewed as disrespectful, and I
would not wish to put anyone in that predicament. However, I was sure to include everyone I
believe is close to me as to not offend anyone who is, as they may take it as an insult upon their
honor that they were not invited.
There are two things about a wedding in Iraq that I have found most Americans do not
understand. The first of these is that a wedding is more of a public celebration than a private
celebration. It is a way of building the community, and it is a way of accepting a man as taking
that final step into manhood to take a wife and begin a family of his own. This is why those
who are close to me may feel insulted if they are not invited they may feel I do not include
them as a part of my community. It is also why the celebration occurs in the middle of a street in
our neighborhood. A large, arch-shaped tent that spans many meters was put up on a street and
detours were placed around the site of the celebration. Seats were placed in arch-like manner
inside the tent, and between every two seats, just in front of the seats, was a small table. I stood

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just outside the head of the tent, along with my uncle and brothers. As each person arrived they
shook hands with my uncle, my brothers, and I and gave light kisses on the cheek a normal
greeting in my country and took their seat. As more people arrived they greeted us; then, in the
same manner, greeted those who were already sitting until they found the next empty seat.
Around five oclock in the evening, my uncle, brothers, and I took our seats at the head of
the tent, and dinner was finally served and placed on the empty tables in front of every two seats.
It started with small appetizers, called mezza, which include salads made of many vegetables,
spices, and lemon juice with olive oil (Tabbouleh) and mixed plates of dried fruit. The main
meal consisted of many different dishes made of lamb, vegetables, rice, and most importantly,
bread. When dinner had been served and all were full, tables were cleared and cleaned, and tea
was brought out. It is during this time that most of the public celebrating occurred. The sounds
of conversations thickened the small area of the tent and laughter was heard all around. There
were many jokes passed around about my finally turning into a man, or how I was able to find a
wife in the first place. The happiness between our community lasted for a few hours until my
uncle finally rose, causing a sudden upstart of standing within the whole tent, before he finally
made his way out and drove a car to the very front of the tent. I gave my thanks to everyone, and
we praised Allah one final time for allowing for this joyous occasion. It was time I saw my wife.
The second misunderstanding Americans have is an issue some may have already noticed
my wife is not present at the celebration. I have seen many American films and heard many
American stories of weddings, and I understand that the wife is brought to the man during the
celebration. In the same way, a man is brought to his wife, but after he celebrates with his
community his community of men. When my uncle picked me up, I could not have been more
excited. Although I did enjoy the celebration with my friends and family, I do love my wife. It

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is not a duty for us, but a privilege and I welcomed it with open arms. She is a beautiful woman
who is loyal and obedient, but only because she chooses to be this way with me. We have a
common understanding of each other and love each other much in the same way Americans do.
My uncle drove me to the house of my wifes grandfather, where she had been waiting for me in
her room. As we finally arrived at the house, her grandfather greeted me and welcomed me in.
He sat me down and gave a lengthy speech of how to act as a man, and to take good care of his
granddaughter and raise a healthy family, obedient to Allah in everything. It was then I could
feel the severity of this celebration and what it would mean for both of us. The celebration was a
time for the good and happy in life, but during this speech, I realized the seriousness of life that
would follow as well.
Only when her grandfather was done speaking was I allowed to view the beauty and
splendor that had been waiting for me all day. She did not disappoint. Her make-up was done in
an expertly fashion and her gowns were of the finest cloth. I had to resist showing any signs of
physical affection, but instead had to enjoy her from a view. When the time finally came that I
received the blessing from her grandfather, we were led to the car my uncle had driven to find a
place alone a hotel room that my family had paid for so that we might spend the night alone. It
was just last night we were able to enjoy the physical embraces of each other. We had both
longed for one another, and the consummation of our marriage was a beautiful event we should
both never forget. By Allahs will, we should have a child soon, and the journey of our long
lives together shall finally begin.