Writing

My favorite paper from English this semester is the Moment in Life essay. Actually the paper on Constitution is probably my favorite, but that's not important now. This could either be fiction or non fiction. In reality, it's both. I kind of made up some quotes so it could pass for either. It's probably not even that great.

" I’ve been to plenty of weddings in my life. They’re all basically the same because our people are proud and traditional.

We’re from Plav, a small historical town, in the middle of everything. The town is literally at the borders of Montenegro, Kosova, and Albania. My ancestors have been living in that valley for the past 400 years. Life there is pretty laid back; laborers only work from Monday through Thursday, eat a lot of food, and joke around all the time. It’s like an American family’s utopia. The wedding ceremonies there are identical to the ones we have in America; it was created over there first, our people in America couldn’t give up their traditions, it helps many cope with homeland sickness.

At the wedding, my lips arch parabolically and my nose bellows air to avoid laughing as I sit and listen to drunken relatives converse about their past. I see my cousin, although, she likes it when I refer to her as a ‘sister.’ (We’re close since I went on vacation and met everyone the first time in 2000. Her father died that year, and I talked to her a lot; she began calling me a brother and it stuck.) Standing tall (especially because of her ornate wedding cake-like headdress which adds a foot but more about that in a moment.) behind a large table consisting of the bride, my ‘sister’, and recently married relatives by her side in extravagant outfits, covered with heavy silver and gold embroidery; clothes that Queen Elizabeth the First would wear but, only on official state occasions. I admit crying a little seeing my ‘sister’ standing tall like that, especially because of her past. But I toughed it out, you know, since I’m a beast.

“She’s so beautiful,” an aunt whispers, “So when are you getting married? Vee gonna find you a nice girl.”

That’s the crazy aunt. Always thinking about who and when others should tie the knot. It’s an obsession, and it’s hilarious. She’s dressed up in the same type of embroidered white garb with jingling gold ornaments on her head to complement the giant gold collar; indigenous to our people, and enigmatic to anyone else.

I shook my head, laughed, and didn’t bother answering the question--who could?

The method men Albanian use to get married is quite different from the American way. Albanian men who live in America go back to their home country and basically ‘pick out’ the girl they want to marry; the parents talk about it first, to see if she is from a good family. Then, the girl spends time with the man to see if she likes him. It’s nice since the girl isn’t forced to get married and the families bond as friends.

I could have been married this summer if I wanted to, which is frightening; but that’s the power of culture. Seeing my ‘sister’ standing there I try to see the world through her eyes, as a precocious nineteen year old. I feel like I’ve turned to stone looking at marriage eye to eye. This inner child in me, precarious and fearful, squeaks, “I don’t wanna.” But this fear is probably part of the process. What results from this bond is valuable, and most important: love, loyalty, respect, trust, and happiness.

Traditions and customs in the ceremony involve these elements. Throughout the night attendees from both sides of the family get up and dance in formed circles. They hold hands high and oscillate them as they maneuver and move in the circle, to show their approval and happiness for the to-be couple. As they spiral around each other they seem timeless, like a primitive ritual, going as far back as the days when a conch that plays the euphoric song of love when blown upon.

In the end, the husband and wife fill their cups with champagne, and entangle their arms as they drink. When the time came to cut the cake, my ‘sister’ took a slice and fed her husband, then vice versa.

Afterwards, the crowd forms a large circle and the lights dim; the two dance in the middle and whisper into each others ear. Perhaps they were dreaming about the future. More likely, they were savoring the moment. Like a first kiss, a dream was falling into place becoming reality. All of that fantasizing she did as a teenager I remember, about sincerity, honesty, and the importance of true love; how beautiful, how becoming, how real.

Before leaving, I filter my way through the crowd to reveal myself and my ‘sister’ spots me, “There you are! Ha ha, so what do you think? You’re next! Vee gonna find you a nice girl!” "