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Washingtonian
June 2007
SECTION: HERE COMES THE BRIDE; Pg. 137-138, 140-148
Marrying Traditions
by Moran, Lindsay.
Washington writer Lindsay Moran can be reached at
[email protected]
>From circling a fire to tossing chestnuts, weddings can bring
together a variety of customs
BODY:
Washington is an increasingly diverse area, and so is its wedding
scene. The number of foreign diplomats, World Bank employees, and
second-generation immigrants means that multicultural nuptials are
common.
"It's actually rare for me to plan a wedding where the bride and
groom are the same religion or have the same ethnic background," says
Laura Metro, president of M Street Agency in Bethesda.
Throwing a multicultural affair has its challenges. Some couples host
two events, each reflective of a different culture. Others design a
ceremony and reception that incorporate divergent traditions.
Here are five couples who managed to pull off such a wedding, each in
their own way.
Tea for Two Hundred
During their reception at the Washington Club on DC's Dupont Circle
five years ago, bride Kat Song climbed onto her groom's back for a
piggyback ride around the room-a symbol that her new husband was
prepared to support her.
The gesture was one way that Kat, communications director for
Leapfrog Group, a DC-based health nonprofit, and Chris VanArsdale, an
ecofriendly-real-estate developer, incorporated Korean tradition into
their otherwise American wedding.
In Korea, centuries-old custom requires bride, groom, and both sets
of parents to don traditional costume. Kat's attire included a
jeogori, a short jacket with long sleeves and two ribbons tied
together to form the goreum, a bow that is one element by which the
beauty of a Korean wedding costume is judged. She also wore a
full-length wraparound skirt and a jokduri, a delicate crown beaded
and decorated with flowers. Chris, 40, wore a baji, trousers, and a
loose-sleeved jacket called a durumagi. The bridesmaids' tea-length
dresses and groomsmen's tuxedos were very American.
At the reception, Kat, 39, and Chris performed a tea-pouring ceremony
and bowed to their parents and other relatives, a variation of
paebek, a Korean bride's formal introduction to and acceptance by the
groom's family. They chose not to include a more archaic tradition in
which a groom gives his mother-in-law a live goose as a symbol of
faithfulness to her daughter.
Per tradition, the couple's parents tossed chestnuts at the
newlyweds, which Kat tried to catch in the folds of her dress,
signifying the number of children she would bear. In fact, Kat was
pregnant at the time, presenting perhaps the biggest cultural
obstacle she and her fiancé faced.
"I insisted that my parents tell their friends attending that I was
pregnant because we were not keeping it a secret," says Kat. "This
was quite difficult for them since Koreans try to adhere to a strict
set of social mores."
She lost count of how many chestnuts she caught, but so far the
Kalorama couple have two children.
East Meets Middle East
Amina Khan of Northwest DC often jokes that her 2003 wedding was "the
Discovery Channel meets National Geographic."
Amina's Pakistani family wished to observe South Asian customs,
including nine nights of celebration that culminated in a
Saturday-evening reception at DC's Renaissance Mayflower hotel, while
her Syrian-born husband, Firas Al-Hindi, brought in his family's
Middle Eastern influence.
Before the wedding, Firas gave his relatives a write-up that included
the name of each event and its significance, such as why women
applied decorative henna and the meaning of a dance competition
between families.
Guests came from Pakistan, India, Japan, France, and Syria. Menus
included Middle Eastern appetizers like hummus and stuffed grape
leaves as well as such South Asian dishes as Afghani pulao, lamb and
chicken seekh kebabs, naan, and rice pudding served in small clay
dishes. There was a DJ at every event, and guests danced late into
the night to a mix of Indian bhangra, Arabic music, and Turkish
songs.
For henna night, Amina's mother stationed candles throughout the
bride's house and hung a silk canopy from the ceiling. A Pakistani
drummer stood outside to welcome the groom's side, which
traditionally arrives en masse. Amina's family rented a palanquin-a
covered sedan chair on which the bride sits-for male relatives to
carry her to the groom, who wore a traditional Damascan gown and a
hat known as a tarbouche.
Everyone sang Pakistani songs, which can be "quite rude," says Amina,
37, a lawyer. "The husband's mother is especially roasted." Her
mother-in-law, who'd been warned, took the ribbing in stride-it was
all in Urdu, a language that she, an Arabic speaker, couldn't
understand.
For the wedding, Amina wore fire-engine red, the traditional color
for Pakistani brides. The outfit's floor-length skirt, which she wore
with a dupatta (shawl) and veil, was hand-embroidered with gold and
weighed more than 15 pounds. She had on a 1940s emerald-and-diamond
choker from her grandmother's wedding and a seven-strand necklace
that her mother wore at her own. The necklace, made of pearls, gold,
rubies, and diamonds, matched Amina's tikka, an elaborate jeweled
piece that hung in the middle of her forehead.
In Syria, the man's family generally pays for the wedding, but
Amina's family paid because Pakistani customs-including her family's
400-person guest list-prevailed. Firas, 43 and a data-services
director at Democracy Data & Communications in Alexandria, hosted a
dinner for 100 at the Hotel Washington the day after the wedding per
Islamic custom.
The couple had unexpected guests. In Pakistan, family and friends who
receive wedding invitations sometimes bring along other well-wishers.
The Mayflower had to add four tables to seat people who just showed
up.
Against All Odds
A Turkish-Armenian wedding might seem like something out of
Shakespearean tragedy, à la Romeo and Juliet. During the Ottoman
Empire, the Turks waged a campaign of deportation and death against
Armenians. Historians have called it a genocide, a label the
government of Turkey and many ethnic Turks reject.
In May 2004, Melissa McCain, who is of Turkish descent, and Carl
Bazarian Jr., whose father is Armenian, decided to marry. The
Arlington couple, who met as undergrads at American University, held
the wedding in Florida, where Carl's parents live.
For Melissa, the biggest challenge was her mother, who lives in
Turkey. Her mother didn't understand why her daughter chose to marry
in a church-civil ceremonies are the norm in Turkey because religious
ceremonies aren't legally recognized-or in this country.
"It would've been unrealistic to expect people to fly to Turkey,
especially if a third of those people were Armenian," says Melissa, a
federal-contracts manager for Accenture.
Then there was the cultural gap between her parents and in-laws: In
Turkey, the bride's family pays for an elaborate engagement party,
while the groom's family pays for the wedding. Armenian tradition
calls for the bride's family to host the wedding.
"My parents were making no move to do that," Melissa says. "My
in-laws were great about it, though-they paid for the majority of the
wedding. My husband and I paid for certain things."
Another obstacle was finding a priest from the Armenian Apostolic
Church who would marry them. They were lucky: Months before the
wedding, the bride was baptized and confirmed by a priest who was a
friend of the Bazarian family, so they flew him to Florida to
officiate.
The ceremony largely reflected Carl's Armenian heritage. One of his
uncles held a cross over the couple, who wore crowns and sat in
thronelike chairs. "It's symbolic of becoming king and queen of your
own little kingdom," says Melissa, 29. In a practice common in both
Armenia and Turkey, the bride wore an "evil eye" talisman pinned to
her ivory-colored silk-satin gown. The talisman is believed to ward
off the envious "third eye."
As the newlyweds entered the reception, bridesmaids tossed
ribbon-tied tulle bundles, which the bride's mother brought from
Turkey. "The bundles were stuffed with gold-colored coins so that we
never have money problems, grains of rice so we never are hungry, and
little candies so that we always speak sweetly to each other," says
Melissa.
Guests dined on Turkish-Armenian fare such as boreg (similar to
spanakopita), stuffed grape leaves, shish kebab, and fasulye, a
Middle Eastern dish of green beans stewed with tomatoes.
One problem Melissa and Carl, an investment banker, couldn't avoid:
Some guests discussed Armenian-Turkish relations. "It wasn't the time
or place to bring it up," she says.
The couple knows it could have been worse. "In the end, all of the
little things that could have gone wrong never happened," says Carl,
33. He and his wife welcomed a baby boy in November.
It Can Take a Village to Plan a Wedding
Last August, when Manvi Drona started planning a December wedding to
Paul Hidalgo, whom she'd met two years earlier on a flight from Dubai
to New York, friends were skeptical. Could Manvi, who is Indian, pull
off a destination wedding in California that incorporated her Hindu
background and Paul's Argentinean background and Catholicism-let
alone in four months?
Manvi, who works in marketing at Surety Information in DC, and Paul,
a foreign-policy analyst and senior editor of the Iran Report, were
confident. It helped that Manvi's father, Bhushan, agreed to host the
affair.
The McLean couple chose to marry in Sonoma because they both enjoy
wine. In India, guests will travel great distances to a wedding, and
festivities go on for days. Manvi and Paul decided to have a Hindu
ceremony and rehearsal dinner, to which all 70 guests were invited,
followed by a traditional American ceremony with a Catholic blessing
the next day.
"We didn't want anything that would involve a conversion," says
Manvi, 26. Still, the couple wanted to create something with ethnic
flair.
The bride called on her San Francisco-based sister and her mother,
who lives in Dubai, for help. Manvi's mother ordered traditional
Indian outfits, including custom shoes, for the wedding party.
Relatives transported the hand-tailored outfits and decorations from
Dubai and New Delhi.
One of the first challenges was finding a Hindu priest. "My mother
interviewed several," Manvi says. "I needed someone who would be able
to translate Sanskrit into English. It's very difficult to capture
the essence of what's being said."
Working with a priest from Sonoma, Manvi condensed a four-hour
ceremony into an hour. The couple wanted to highlight certain
elements, including the Hindu tradition of incorporating earth,
water, air, and fire. Two months before the wedding, a secretary at
the Hindu-ceremony venue heard there would be flames in a small
copper vessel and told the couple they couldn't marry there. "She was
picturing a bonfire," says Manvi. Luckily, the owners relented.
After prayers and welcoming of the groom's family to the mandap, or
ceremony area, the bride and groom walked around the fire seven
times. Together, they moved a betel nut with their bare toes as they
took their vows.
The couple had prepared Hidalgo's parents for the Indian ceremony.
"There's a lot of jocularity, which can be surprising," Manvi says.
For example, the bridesmaids steal the groom's shoes, and the
groomsmen engage in spirited bargaining to recover them; the point is
for the wedding party to mingle.
As a nod to Paul's father's South American roots, the couple served
Argentinean wine at the Hindu reception. During his toast, Bhushan
Drona told guests that his daughter's encounter with her future
husband, somewhere above the clouds, confirmed his belief that
marriages are arranged in heaven.
Paul's father also gave a toast: "I found my wife when I came north
from the south," he said. "Paul found his when he went east from the
west."
At the American wedding the next day, the bride wore an off-white
Vera Wang strapless gown with a three-foot train, and the groom wore
a tux. The best man forgot the ring at the hotel, but it was
recovered in time for the ceremony, as were the groom's shoes.
A Bride, a Groom, and One Extra Wedding
After Keylan Qazzaz married Guy Wolcott in Silver Spring in 1997, the
couple followed their American wedding with another three months
later in England-in deference to the bride's Kurdish father.
"I was nervous about so many unfamiliar people and customs," says
Guy.
Keylan's father, Shafiq, who'd lived in London amid the city's
sizable Kurdish population before moving to Iraq, had always imagined
his daughter would marry a Kurd-but later realized that was
unrealistic because she grew up in America. "I asked for his blessing
before saying yes to Guy," says Keylan, assistant director of the
Silk Road Dance Company, which performs at Middle Eastern weddings
and other events in Washington.
Like most Kurds, Keylan's father is Muslim, and a ceremony at a
mosque is tradition. "There was no way to have our marriage
sanctioned by a Muslim cleric since neither of us is Muslim," says
Keylan, 39. "They wouldn't even agree to do a blessing."
Instead, the couple entered a London social hall in a procession-a
mirror carried in front of the bride, a custom once thought to assist
in fertility-led by a musician beating a dahol, or large drum, and
one playing a zurna, a wood-reed instrument.
The 120 mostly Kurdish guests enjoyed line dancing and traditional
cuisine including yaprakh, grape leaves stuffed with rice and meat,
and kifte, shells of rice stuffed with meat and nuts. There was a
presentation of "gifts of gold" to the bride: She and Guy sat side by
side while guests approached with gold items. The couple had already
gone gold shopping together, as is Kurdish custom, and picked out the
bride's jewelry.
"I wasn't sure what my demeanor should be like," says Keylan, who'd
never been to a traditional Kurdish affair. "Western brides are
expected to be glamorous hosts, greeting and kissing everyone. I
didn't think that was appropriate. I erred on the side of being
reserved-but obviously delighted."
Guy, who co-owns Flex Funding mortgage company in DC, wore the
Versace tux he'd worn for their American wedding, while Keylan donned
her white gown again. She'd intended to change into Kurdish costume
later, per tradition, but had to do that sooner than planned. Bending
over to greet guests, she didn't notice a large kerosene heater. The
tulle layers of her dress ignited, and Guy extinguished the flames.
With all eyes on her, Keylan laughed and excused herself. She
returned wearing billowy gold pants, a sheer red dress and slip, a
headpiece, and a long red coat woven with gold flowers she'd made
herself.
June 2007
SECTION: HERE COMES THE BRIDE; Pg. 137-138, 140-148
Marrying Traditions
by Moran, Lindsay.
Washington writer Lindsay Moran can be reached at
[email protected]
>From circling a fire to tossing chestnuts, weddings can bring
together a variety of customs
BODY:
Washington is an increasingly diverse area, and so is its wedding
scene. The number of foreign diplomats, World Bank employees, and
second-generation immigrants means that multicultural nuptials are
common.
"It's actually rare for me to plan a wedding where the bride and
groom are the same religion or have the same ethnic background," says
Laura Metro, president of M Street Agency in Bethesda.
Throwing a multicultural affair has its challenges. Some couples host
two events, each reflective of a different culture. Others design a
ceremony and reception that incorporate divergent traditions.
Here are five couples who managed to pull off such a wedding, each in
their own way.
Tea for Two Hundred
During their reception at the Washington Club on DC's Dupont Circle
five years ago, bride Kat Song climbed onto her groom's back for a
piggyback ride around the room-a symbol that her new husband was
prepared to support her.
The gesture was one way that Kat, communications director for
Leapfrog Group, a DC-based health nonprofit, and Chris VanArsdale, an
ecofriendly-real-estate developer, incorporated Korean tradition into
their otherwise American wedding.
In Korea, centuries-old custom requires bride, groom, and both sets
of parents to don traditional costume. Kat's attire included a
jeogori, a short jacket with long sleeves and two ribbons tied
together to form the goreum, a bow that is one element by which the
beauty of a Korean wedding costume is judged. She also wore a
full-length wraparound skirt and a jokduri, a delicate crown beaded
and decorated with flowers. Chris, 40, wore a baji, trousers, and a
loose-sleeved jacket called a durumagi. The bridesmaids' tea-length
dresses and groomsmen's tuxedos were very American.
At the reception, Kat, 39, and Chris performed a tea-pouring ceremony
and bowed to their parents and other relatives, a variation of
paebek, a Korean bride's formal introduction to and acceptance by the
groom's family. They chose not to include a more archaic tradition in
which a groom gives his mother-in-law a live goose as a symbol of
faithfulness to her daughter.
Per tradition, the couple's parents tossed chestnuts at the
newlyweds, which Kat tried to catch in the folds of her dress,
signifying the number of children she would bear. In fact, Kat was
pregnant at the time, presenting perhaps the biggest cultural
obstacle she and her fiancé faced.
"I insisted that my parents tell their friends attending that I was
pregnant because we were not keeping it a secret," says Kat. "This
was quite difficult for them since Koreans try to adhere to a strict
set of social mores."
She lost count of how many chestnuts she caught, but so far the
Kalorama couple have two children.
East Meets Middle East
Amina Khan of Northwest DC often jokes that her 2003 wedding was "the
Discovery Channel meets National Geographic."
Amina's Pakistani family wished to observe South Asian customs,
including nine nights of celebration that culminated in a
Saturday-evening reception at DC's Renaissance Mayflower hotel, while
her Syrian-born husband, Firas Al-Hindi, brought in his family's
Middle Eastern influence.
Before the wedding, Firas gave his relatives a write-up that included
the name of each event and its significance, such as why women
applied decorative henna and the meaning of a dance competition
between families.
Guests came from Pakistan, India, Japan, France, and Syria. Menus
included Middle Eastern appetizers like hummus and stuffed grape
leaves as well as such South Asian dishes as Afghani pulao, lamb and
chicken seekh kebabs, naan, and rice pudding served in small clay
dishes. There was a DJ at every event, and guests danced late into
the night to a mix of Indian bhangra, Arabic music, and Turkish
songs.
For henna night, Amina's mother stationed candles throughout the
bride's house and hung a silk canopy from the ceiling. A Pakistani
drummer stood outside to welcome the groom's side, which
traditionally arrives en masse. Amina's family rented a palanquin-a
covered sedan chair on which the bride sits-for male relatives to
carry her to the groom, who wore a traditional Damascan gown and a
hat known as a tarbouche.
Everyone sang Pakistani songs, which can be "quite rude," says Amina,
37, a lawyer. "The husband's mother is especially roasted." Her
mother-in-law, who'd been warned, took the ribbing in stride-it was
all in Urdu, a language that she, an Arabic speaker, couldn't
understand.
For the wedding, Amina wore fire-engine red, the traditional color
for Pakistani brides. The outfit's floor-length skirt, which she wore
with a dupatta (shawl) and veil, was hand-embroidered with gold and
weighed more than 15 pounds. She had on a 1940s emerald-and-diamond
choker from her grandmother's wedding and a seven-strand necklace
that her mother wore at her own. The necklace, made of pearls, gold,
rubies, and diamonds, matched Amina's tikka, an elaborate jeweled
piece that hung in the middle of her forehead.
In Syria, the man's family generally pays for the wedding, but
Amina's family paid because Pakistani customs-including her family's
400-person guest list-prevailed. Firas, 43 and a data-services
director at Democracy Data & Communications in Alexandria, hosted a
dinner for 100 at the Hotel Washington the day after the wedding per
Islamic custom.
The couple had unexpected guests. In Pakistan, family and friends who
receive wedding invitations sometimes bring along other well-wishers.
The Mayflower had to add four tables to seat people who just showed
up.
Against All Odds
A Turkish-Armenian wedding might seem like something out of
Shakespearean tragedy, à la Romeo and Juliet. During the Ottoman
Empire, the Turks waged a campaign of deportation and death against
Armenians. Historians have called it a genocide, a label the
government of Turkey and many ethnic Turks reject.
In May 2004, Melissa McCain, who is of Turkish descent, and Carl
Bazarian Jr., whose father is Armenian, decided to marry. The
Arlington couple, who met as undergrads at American University, held
the wedding in Florida, where Carl's parents live.
For Melissa, the biggest challenge was her mother, who lives in
Turkey. Her mother didn't understand why her daughter chose to marry
in a church-civil ceremonies are the norm in Turkey because religious
ceremonies aren't legally recognized-or in this country.
"It would've been unrealistic to expect people to fly to Turkey,
especially if a third of those people were Armenian," says Melissa, a
federal-contracts manager for Accenture.
Then there was the cultural gap between her parents and in-laws: In
Turkey, the bride's family pays for an elaborate engagement party,
while the groom's family pays for the wedding. Armenian tradition
calls for the bride's family to host the wedding.
"My parents were making no move to do that," Melissa says. "My
in-laws were great about it, though-they paid for the majority of the
wedding. My husband and I paid for certain things."
Another obstacle was finding a priest from the Armenian Apostolic
Church who would marry them. They were lucky: Months before the
wedding, the bride was baptized and confirmed by a priest who was a
friend of the Bazarian family, so they flew him to Florida to
officiate.
The ceremony largely reflected Carl's Armenian heritage. One of his
uncles held a cross over the couple, who wore crowns and sat in
thronelike chairs. "It's symbolic of becoming king and queen of your
own little kingdom," says Melissa, 29. In a practice common in both
Armenia and Turkey, the bride wore an "evil eye" talisman pinned to
her ivory-colored silk-satin gown. The talisman is believed to ward
off the envious "third eye."
As the newlyweds entered the reception, bridesmaids tossed
ribbon-tied tulle bundles, which the bride's mother brought from
Turkey. "The bundles were stuffed with gold-colored coins so that we
never have money problems, grains of rice so we never are hungry, and
little candies so that we always speak sweetly to each other," says
Melissa.
Guests dined on Turkish-Armenian fare such as boreg (similar to
spanakopita), stuffed grape leaves, shish kebab, and fasulye, a
Middle Eastern dish of green beans stewed with tomatoes.
One problem Melissa and Carl, an investment banker, couldn't avoid:
Some guests discussed Armenian-Turkish relations. "It wasn't the time
or place to bring it up," she says.
The couple knows it could have been worse. "In the end, all of the
little things that could have gone wrong never happened," says Carl,
33. He and his wife welcomed a baby boy in November.
It Can Take a Village to Plan a Wedding
Last August, when Manvi Drona started planning a December wedding to
Paul Hidalgo, whom she'd met two years earlier on a flight from Dubai
to New York, friends were skeptical. Could Manvi, who is Indian, pull
off a destination wedding in California that incorporated her Hindu
background and Paul's Argentinean background and Catholicism-let
alone in four months?
Manvi, who works in marketing at Surety Information in DC, and Paul,
a foreign-policy analyst and senior editor of the Iran Report, were
confident. It helped that Manvi's father, Bhushan, agreed to host the
affair.
The McLean couple chose to marry in Sonoma because they both enjoy
wine. In India, guests will travel great distances to a wedding, and
festivities go on for days. Manvi and Paul decided to have a Hindu
ceremony and rehearsal dinner, to which all 70 guests were invited,
followed by a traditional American ceremony with a Catholic blessing
the next day.
"We didn't want anything that would involve a conversion," says
Manvi, 26. Still, the couple wanted to create something with ethnic
flair.
The bride called on her San Francisco-based sister and her mother,
who lives in Dubai, for help. Manvi's mother ordered traditional
Indian outfits, including custom shoes, for the wedding party.
Relatives transported the hand-tailored outfits and decorations from
Dubai and New Delhi.
One of the first challenges was finding a Hindu priest. "My mother
interviewed several," Manvi says. "I needed someone who would be able
to translate Sanskrit into English. It's very difficult to capture
the essence of what's being said."
Working with a priest from Sonoma, Manvi condensed a four-hour
ceremony into an hour. The couple wanted to highlight certain
elements, including the Hindu tradition of incorporating earth,
water, air, and fire. Two months before the wedding, a secretary at
the Hindu-ceremony venue heard there would be flames in a small
copper vessel and told the couple they couldn't marry there. "She was
picturing a bonfire," says Manvi. Luckily, the owners relented.
After prayers and welcoming of the groom's family to the mandap, or
ceremony area, the bride and groom walked around the fire seven
times. Together, they moved a betel nut with their bare toes as they
took their vows.
The couple had prepared Hidalgo's parents for the Indian ceremony.
"There's a lot of jocularity, which can be surprising," Manvi says.
For example, the bridesmaids steal the groom's shoes, and the
groomsmen engage in spirited bargaining to recover them; the point is
for the wedding party to mingle.
As a nod to Paul's father's South American roots, the couple served
Argentinean wine at the Hindu reception. During his toast, Bhushan
Drona told guests that his daughter's encounter with her future
husband, somewhere above the clouds, confirmed his belief that
marriages are arranged in heaven.
Paul's father also gave a toast: "I found my wife when I came north
from the south," he said. "Paul found his when he went east from the
west."
At the American wedding the next day, the bride wore an off-white
Vera Wang strapless gown with a three-foot train, and the groom wore
a tux. The best man forgot the ring at the hotel, but it was
recovered in time for the ceremony, as were the groom's shoes.
A Bride, a Groom, and One Extra Wedding
After Keylan Qazzaz married Guy Wolcott in Silver Spring in 1997, the
couple followed their American wedding with another three months
later in England-in deference to the bride's Kurdish father.
"I was nervous about so many unfamiliar people and customs," says
Guy.
Keylan's father, Shafiq, who'd lived in London amid the city's
sizable Kurdish population before moving to Iraq, had always imagined
his daughter would marry a Kurd-but later realized that was
unrealistic because she grew up in America. "I asked for his blessing
before saying yes to Guy," says Keylan, assistant director of the
Silk Road Dance Company, which performs at Middle Eastern weddings
and other events in Washington.
Like most Kurds, Keylan's father is Muslim, and a ceremony at a
mosque is tradition. "There was no way to have our marriage
sanctioned by a Muslim cleric since neither of us is Muslim," says
Keylan, 39. "They wouldn't even agree to do a blessing."
Instead, the couple entered a London social hall in a procession-a
mirror carried in front of the bride, a custom once thought to assist
in fertility-led by a musician beating a dahol, or large drum, and
one playing a zurna, a wood-reed instrument.
The 120 mostly Kurdish guests enjoyed line dancing and traditional
cuisine including yaprakh, grape leaves stuffed with rice and meat,
and kifte, shells of rice stuffed with meat and nuts. There was a
presentation of "gifts of gold" to the bride: She and Guy sat side by
side while guests approached with gold items. The couple had already
gone gold shopping together, as is Kurdish custom, and picked out the
bride's jewelry.
"I wasn't sure what my demeanor should be like," says Keylan, who'd
never been to a traditional Kurdish affair. "Western brides are
expected to be glamorous hosts, greeting and kissing everyone. I
didn't think that was appropriate. I erred on the side of being
reserved-but obviously delighted."
Guy, who co-owns Flex Funding mortgage company in DC, wore the
Versace tux he'd worn for their American wedding, while Keylan donned
her white gown again. She'd intended to change into Kurdish costume
later, per tradition, but had to do that sooner than planned. Bending
over to greet guests, she didn't notice a large kerosene heater. The
tulle layers of her dress ignited, and Guy extinguished the flames.
With all eyes on her, Keylan laughed and excused herself. She
returned wearing billowy gold pants, a sheer red dress and slip, a
headpiece, and a long red coat woven with gold flowers she'd made
herself.