a traditional wedding and an untraditional death

Last week I accepted the invitation of Rawan, one of my work colleagues, to overnight at her house in her hometown. The narrow winding road led us from Hebron, one of the highest points in the West Bank, south along ridges with picturesque vistas of the stony semi-arid landscape, down into deep valleys, back up onto ridges, and finally into Adh Dharhia. We spent the evening chatting with her parents and brothers. While conversation with her parents was challenging we ended up sharing some good laughs and lots of smiles – mostly at my floundering attempts to speak some words of Arabic.

That evening there was to be a wedding. My colleague looked lovely in her traditional long black gown with detailed red embroidery. I also dressed in a traditional embroidered gown lent to me by her mother. To complete the look I was given gold bracelets to wear and a headscarf to match the dress.

The public lives in traditional Palestinian society are segregated – even at weddings. When we arrived music was playing and a large group of men were outside dancing, with dozens more milling about. We made our way inside the house and onto the rooftop – around which was black screening to discretely hide the women from prying eyes. The entire area except for a small square in the centre of the room was filled with plastic chairs and the plastic chairs were filled with people. Miraculously the hostess was able to find us two chairs to share between the three of us.

After we were settled in a drum was brought out and some women started to sing traditional songs. The hostess invited the three of us up to be the first ones to dance. Thankfully traditional Palestinian dancing is little more than stepping from side to side moving in a circle and waving a scarf about, so it wasn’t so difficult to catch on. After the first song was over we sat down to watch others dance.

The older women chose to dance to the folk songs, while when “habibi” music came on it was the younger girls who took to the dance floor to show their skills at twisting and twirling their hips. Later into the night four women came out dancing with large colourful decorated baskets and when the song was over they distributed the packages of henna and sweets that were inside the baskets.

I never did get to meet the bride as she doesn't take part in the festivities - she spends the evening at the house of her new in-laws.

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It was an early morning drive from Jerusalem eastward down into the Jordan Valley to the Dead Sea. The landscape changes dramatically on the descent and is very different from the western slopes of the Judean Mountains / Hebron Hills. Just a few minutes out of Jerusalem as we descended the steep slopes the relative greenery of the cypress, olive trees, almond trees and shrubs quickly gave way to a desolate stony desert. Hills and steep valleys of little more than beige stones and dust; the atmosphere hazy from the density of minerals in the air from the evaporation of the Dead Sea water.

After passing a few checkpoints and groves of date palm plantations, we arrived at the Dead Sea. Our first stop was the hot springs, and despite the 30+ degree heat it was surprisingly pleasant. After a bit of a soak we headed down the path to the shoreline passing a lifeguard tower and wooden docks strangely stranded some hundred or so meters from the current shoreline. The Dead Sea is falling at a rate of 1m every year.

Wading into the warm waters I could feel instantly this was no ordinary water - the sensation of increased buoyancy can be felt when only shin-deep. All around people were floating on their backs, on their stomachs, or just bobbing up and down. The salt content is somewhere around 30% and if you look closely you can see swirls of salty water moving about as you float – just make absolutely certain you don’t get any in your mouth or eyes! I’m sure the lifeguard is there to help you if you accidentally ingest some of the water, not to save you from drowning, which is pretty much impossible. Oh, and walking on water is nothing out of the ordinary in these parts!

Nearby there is a mud pit where those who don’t mind getting dirty can go and scoop out some mud and smear it all over themselves. Just beware of boiling mud, as the sign warns. After indulging in a little dirty fun most people perch themselves in a chair and wait for the mud to dry before hitting the showers and the Sea waters again. Because of the extra 420m of atmosphere as well as all the evaporated minerals in the air, there’s not much need to worry about getting a sunburn.

A dip in the mineral hot springs, a swim in a salty lake, a bath in mud, and finally a cleansing shower and we were ready to head back home.