On Paper

Despite my sometimes aloof demeanor, I’m really a romantic at heart.  Case in point:  I got married, approximately three months ago, on Valentine’s Day.

OK, that’s not entirely true.  I don’t think.  It’s just that my marital status is a bit complicated.  It comes with disclaimers and caveats.

When I mention that I’m married, and my wife—I suppose she’s my wife—overhears me, she always quickly inserts the words “on paper” into whatever conversation I happened to have been having.  That’s right.  I’m married, but only on paper.  She’s always quick to remind me and set the record straight.

I live in Egypt and have just married (or not) an Egyptian woman named Azza.  (By the way, I’ve included my favorite picture of her.)  Three months ago, we loaded ourselves up into Azza’s car and drove to downtown Cairo where we filled out a variety of forms, paid an array of fees, and had a bureaucrat (sitting behind a document-covered desk) declare us “husband and wife.”

Again, all that happened, but only on paper.  It seems that Egyptians don’t consider that the end of the story.  In fact, it’s not even the most important part of the story.  The marriage isn’t considered legit by the family of the bride—and that’s a mighty powerful group of folks—until a party takes place.  This shindig, called a “hafla zeefahf” in Arabic, combines elements of the American wedding ceremony and reception.  Ours is about to take place in less than two weeks, on the evening of the 31^st of May.  Inshallah.

I know this is true because the wedding invitations have been printed and are in our possession.  As a matter of fact, a good many have already been delivered to those who are invitees.

What I like is that the cards are bilingual and multicultural and international (but not bicameral or horticultural).

Check them out.