a story

Disclaimer: So many people told me that their favorite post thus far was about the well dressed Azeri woman. We did get to brief speaking terms before I moved offices, but like I said I changes the whole route I walk to work. So sadly, I don’t see her anymore. Because of that there is no way of doing a follow-up about her. But that story was told not really about something but rather how something felt. This story turned out in the same vein. However, this is a story from the point of my feelings, it may not be palatable to all. Especially guys, man it is what it is. It just came out this way and I am not gonna apologize cause I like it!




So I will now tell you all a tale. This story is again a tale that happened recently, but happens regularly in Azerbaijan. It does not have to do with appreciating the little things or my daily routine. Although, it is a tale about a fairly routine happening in Azerbaijan. This tale has to do with what I passionately believe to be the national pass time of Azerbaijan—Weddings. So in love with Weddings and marriage is Azerbaijan that there are many separate parts and parties that go in to getting married. Our story begins with a girl (woman-lady-whatever) going home at the end of yet another day at work. And for simplicity sake let’s say this all happened to me, but trust me dear readers it has, could or very likely will happen to every PCV here. So I arrive at home at the end of my day, with Josh (again this is an extremely common event) he wanted to borrow some DVDs. We get to my house at 5 and it is in chaos, not disorder, but the kind of chaos that exists when you stumble home to find 50 or so people that all know each other and what they are doing, and you just plain don’t. As I ventured upstairs the fog began to clear a bit, there are no men here. Not one. Josh and I look at each other awkwardly, continue on into my room and get the DVDs as we peer back into the world of women we become uneasy. Most of the time I am going to become inundated with culture I invite someone to share the attention with me, Josh is one of my most frequent ‘cultural shields’. We both knew that tonight, I was to be alone. On my own in a world of women.
Even if we were to think about getting an exception, it was too late my host father had entered the room and taken Josh back to ‘Man Land.’ So there I was seated at one of three long banquet tables that filled two rooms, all women. Not that women usually scare me. I am usually quite happy to be in the ‘World of Women’ as opposed to ‘Man Land.’ Man Land is louder, and often smoke-filled, and very often vodka is there too. The World of Women is talkative, food-filled, and smoke and alcohol free. That night was a special night like a bachlorette party except it’s a family affair. We ate, drink soda and talk for a bit but then, the real party begins. It’s called girl wedding and it is a good old-fashioned dance party. Girls only! Well, one guy sat there with a Casio keyboard playing and other than that it was an all girls dance party 6 -80 years old doesn’t matter, you dance. And so dance I did, I myself am a decent Azeri dancer neither pro nor pathetic, but I can do it and that impresses and amuses the room of 50 to no end. My host mother and sister had no idea that this was a skill I possessed, and gave them a sense of pride, cause I am their girl. Which is what my host mother introduce me as, "and this, this is my girl!"

You may ask yourself, what is Azeri dancing like? Well, Azeri dancing is completely different between the sexes. In the World of Women, it is subtler. It is about the hands and arms, you stand tall and there are subtle steps with the feet. But the story is in your arms, how the move, bend and enchant. It is in your hands and fingers how they flow and keep time. And as you get better, it is in the toss of your hair.

For comparison sake, the masculine form that you would find if you were in Man Land is straight, rigged. Arms out straight, wrist fixed in a bent positions and the story is in legs and footwork, which have quick aggressive movements. When men dance they have dance offs or dance fights. Where they get into each other’s space with the aggression of two bucks, or walruses I have seen on the nature channel, but it is all in fun, because at the end they will often hug and laugh, but I digress, this is not the story of Man Land. This is they story of the World of Women.

What I learned that night, was that there is a subtle competition at foot with the women on the dance floor too, at least with the ones who are unmarried. It is neither blatant nor aggressive the way that things are in Man Land. It is more of “Sass Off.” And I believe that for all of you reading this you will already know that as soon as that became clear to me, I fell in love with it. You can see it in the eyes. As if to say have you seen this before, it subtly challenges you to be free. For me, it happened on the dance floor with my host sister. She is an often times quiet girl, 15 years old and studies nigh on constantly. Only around close friends and family, when you look for it you’ll see it. Her cousin will walk by and, she’ll trip them. Or she’ll over exaggerate something and wink at me. I love it! We giggle constantly, or sit in content silence. It’s great, she’ll study and I’ll read and we will just be and not talk. She has no interest in English, which fine. And she teaches me Azeri by just talking to me and using hand gestures till I get it, and she can read my face pretty well she knows if I didn’t get it. Her name is Aysel and she rocks.

But you put this chick on the dance floor and you can see it instantly, she knows she’s cool. Not in a cocky way, but in a comfort she has with herself that most people don’t have let alone 15year olds. And maybe it’s a cultural difference. Many people have noted that little boys know they are princes, and future kings. There is an expectance of things; things will be done for them. Women from a young age are taught how to be wives. In daily life girls are assigned a very unassuming role. And I had never noticed it before, but in the World of Women they are all Princesses, and when the men disappear it becomes instantly clear. The hair is let down, gorgeous thick black hair, done just so. And with a magic possessed only by princesses, it stays just so all night no matter how long they danced. But I felt it in that room, as the music played, that we all shared the secret, that behind closed doors we are all princesses. I saw it in the freeness of their breath and laughter. I saw it in how we would all touch and move. I saw it in the peace and relaxation of Aysel’s face, in that time when there would be nothing asked of her except to dance—she knows, what even maybe her own father doesn’t, she is a princess.

There are several aspects of the ‘girls wedding’ I don’t know them all, for they weren’t explained to me and if they were I wouldn’t have really understood, but this is how they were experienced. There were gifts brought by the guest and they are left in another room and not opened in front of people, not that they were wrapped in a way that you couldn’t see exactly what they were, you could. Then the eating and the dancing at some point of the evening I was branded, (relax they used henna). The branding is as such someone walks by and splats a glop on your hand right for unmarried left if you are. Then if you, like me, are branded unmarried, you could write the letter of the first initial of your beloved, if you, like me, are 26 unmarried, unbethroved and not even in a relationship, then you could simply smear it all around and try to find a napkin for the excess. After all, they might brand you 26 and unmarried, but that doesn’t mean you have to care at all. Next they passed out one candy to each lady. All the while the dancing continued, some of the male cousins seek a peak into the world of women through the window in the next room. I see them watching us and think about how this must be for them to observe. Could they even see the magic that they observed. I wondered if they saw that we had all transformed back to princesses, or if they being from Man Land were not able to see the difference unable to feel the difference. Or if for them they just saw a room full of their mothers, aunts, cousins and their friends’.

I know that after that night I will not be able to look at those women without knowing that at least just for one night, while in the World of Women, I saw their crowns. I feel it still in smile on my host mother’s face as I am being introduced as her girl. I feel it in Aysel’s winks that she knows that I know. And, for a few more days anyway, I will wear my branding with pride, for it marks my entry for my first real visit to their World of Women a place wear we are all princesses and know it.