Egyptian-Jewish wedding reveals world as it could be

<p>A barn at Walker Creek Ranch west of Petaluma seemed an unlikely place to find 200 people on a Saturday night, dancing, swaying and clapping to Middle Eastern music. The crowd was dressed in festive galabeyyas, Egyptian tunics. Women wore brightly colored chiffon head scarves, adorned with silver coins; men wore knit caps or red felt tarboosh, the Egyptian version of a fez. Older women gently drew in awkward novices. Even children participated.</p><p>The barn, probably the setting for many square dances and hoedowns, had been transformed with Egyptian carpets, soft, round cushions and ornate hookahs. People sipped aromatic, sweet mint tea and noshed on baklava. The crowd had made a zaffa to the barn, a musical procession, called together and led by a young woman playing a dumbeck drum. Inside, loud traditional and contemporary Middle Eastern music emanated from a laptop computer.</p><p>Sue, Justin, Bonnie, Samir, Laila, Sefora -- everyone spoke fluent English, but many of the guests switched interchangeably between Arabic and English. Hearing familiar rhythms and melodies, some bilingual participants sang along in Arabic, and a few of the women kept the rhythm with zagat, brass finger cymbals.</p><p>The "Egyptian Party" was part of a weekend of festivities surrounding the wedding of Jolana and Shereef. Jolana grew up near the beach in Ventura; Shereef grew up in Cairo, Egypt. They met at the Burning Man festival.</p><p>Jolana is our niece; her family includes Jews on her father's side and American Indians on her mother's. Shereef's family members are Coptic Orthodox Christians, a minority group within Egypt. While the groom's parents live in Cairo, many of his relatives immigrated to the United States and Canada about 40 years ago. They became successful doctors, professors, journalists and businesspeople. This large extended family, proud citizens of the U.S. and Canada, residing in California, Connecticut, Kentucky, North Carolina, New York and Ottawa, retains a strong connection through yearly reunions.</p><p>We had been uncertain how this three-day gathering would work out: an introduction of two families, several cultures and religious traditions, each a minority group. This wedding took place in a post Sept. 11 context, with the U.S. involved in two wars in the Middle East. No matter how inaccurate -- divisive stereotypes hover, harden and intensify. Yet this marriage, bringing together people of disparate backgrounds, revealed a longing to dissolve barriers.</p><p>Shereef's parents and friends brought the galabeyyas from Cairo as gifts. Ordinarily, they dress in Western garments, but for the pre-wedding "Egyptian Night," they wanted to share a traditional part of their culture. They also hosted a dinner with Middle Eastern foods: babaganoush, hummus, lamb and saffron rice.</p><p>We first met Shereef when he came to our house three years ago for a Passover seder dinner. As part of a seder, Jews recount the story of their exodus from Egypt, where they had been slaves. While we typically invite non-Jewish friends and take the view that this holiday celebrates the liberation of all oppressed people, including Palestinians, we were anxious about how an Egyptian guest might feel.</p><p>Our worries disappeared the moment Shereef walked in the door, looked around at the festive table, smiled at the animated conversations and proclaimed: "This is just like my family!" When we met his family, we understood.</p><p>The rustic ranch setting had no cell phone reception, TVs or newspapers to distract. All we had was each other and the natural beauty. The joyful gathering culminated with a wedding ceremony in a meadow at sunset. Afterward, at the wedding dinner, we were seated with several of the Egyptian relatives; the last couple to join our table, Yossi and Esther, are Jewish, with roots in Israel. Reaching across ideological fences, the conversation shifted back and forth from commentary about conflicts in the Middle East to observing similarities of words in Hebrew and Arabic.</p><p>Three days of loosely organized events could have erupted into the antagonism we see in the world at large. Instead, we had a glimpse of the world in which we would like to live. People embraced as they said goodbye, often multiple times, as if to savor community, one wedding at a time.</p><p>Madeleine Rose is a lecturer in sociology at Sonoma State University; Ed Berger is a retired math professor.</p>