Overture

My knees were beginning to tremble a bit and I could feel a strange buzzing behind my jaw. As I was escorted by two ladies towards a cushion on a carpeted floor, the only thought to run through my head was 'I hope he doesn't pronounce my islamic name wrong!' and 'Wow my bare feet are really dirty.' "

After 5 turns around the mosque (or at least that was what it felt like), I sat down and watched him from under my fake eyelashes (thanks, makeup artise Sharina, who did a fantastic glam job on me).

He looked rather calm and collected, still struggling with a slight cough. All around me I could hear chatter, my mom was asking 10,000 questions about whether she was to sit here or there, his mother wanted to put stockings on my feet, and someone was gesturing to my sister to hand my IC to Kevin to hand to Jo cos I can't move my head (veil was held precariously by 1 pin).

Someone said "Qadi isn't here yet!" And that roused a whole new wave of noise as everyone checked their watches and tittered and tutted if we were going to proceed on time. It was a storm of noise and chaos, and all I could see in front of me were blinking flashes from cameras and mobile phones aiming this way.

Ears buzzing, I lifted my eyes for a far-away focal point. Then I saw him looking at me, a steady gaze with slight concern. Separated by an ocean of islamic ettiquette and green carpet across 4 feet of corridor.

He hitched his chin slightly, and my throat loosened. Heartbeat returned to normal, noise receded and I was amused and impressed with how he looked. Dang, very smart. I like.

I smiled back at him, and raised my eyebrows slightly.

Yeah, I'm fine now.

The Qadi sat down, and we began.

The Bonds of Brotherhood

Would you do any of these for your friend?

1. Put on a facial mask and perform an interpretive dance while wearing a leather thong over your clothes, re-enacting the scene of your friend's proposal to his fiance

2. Wrack your brains to remember when your friend and his fiance first kissed

3. Help him pick out his fiance's lipstick print from a paper full of lipstick prints

4. Perform a belly dance while wearing a belly dance scarf for him

5. Eat vegetables. Raw ones. Bitter ones.

6. Volunteer your body to be searched by other friends for areas with enough hair for a wax strip.

7. Sew "J hearts P" on a tee shirt

8. Instruct your friend to ask for his fiance's hand from her dad in a non-native tongue

9. Sing cheesy Air Supply songs

10. Do a dikir barat about vegetables

In no particular order: Reezan, Cheng, Big Joe, AK, Kev, Ayam, Mama, Yongzhi, Brian, Kanz, Jay, Pavi, Mazlee, Rozani, KT, Janssen, Kai Koon, Danny Boy, Alvin, Ben -

Bradders, you guys rock.

Other tasks we did NOT inflict on the boys... (trust me when I say it was due to lack of time, rather than lack of vindictiveness :)
- Passing a balloon down a chain of 6 guys, from knees to chin, and chin to knees.
- Squatting in a row by the longkang brushing your teeth (aka primary school) and singing a cheesy school assembly song
- Drink beetroot juice
- Tie a tudong in a most fashionable way as possible around the head of one of the brothers
- Name all the different accessories that accompany a baju kebaya

Beyond words

I spent almost 3 hours looking through all my favorite literature to find a quote or some words that could help express how I feel at the moment. Whitman, Lawrence, Shakespeare, Snoop Dog, Jeremy Clarkson ... I just couldn't find anything that was anywhere close.

Yet this was such a momentous event that I fear my own scribblings could not do it justice, they were inadequate to convey how fundamentally mind-blowing yet strangely comforting it was.

How deeply and quietly right it feels, for Jo and I to be married.

In a way I was thankful there was no such thing as "writing your own vows" in the wedding we had, because I really don't think I would able to put into words what this means to me. How does one express the promise to always be the one that holds his hand, that tells him the truth, that cares enough to nag, that requires him to hug on demand, that always has a shoulder for him, that he can count on?

Neveen transcribed a lovely poem for us from Sex and the City, as a mini-homage to my journey from New York. Even that, while touching and eloquent, wasn't enough.

We watched Michael perform the history of Jo and I knowing each other, in playback. I loved it but it was still missing something (despite being able to bring me to tears).

We were young brash devil-may-care-world-is-my-oyster kids when we first met. Then, adults that have gone through life-changing experiences when we met again. A lifetime of events had occurred in between, the years did not disappear. Somehow they made us more interesting to each other, and in a strange way, more daring to try because we each knew better what his/her true mettle was. There was truth, and strength, and courage of conviction, to hold hands and take that leap - not of marriage, but of love. The terrible beauty of love, which survives messy living abode, bachelor pads, all-night mahjong marathons, junk-food diet, body odor, control-freakness, workaholism, business travel, interfering parents, among other things.

Fast forward 3 years and on October 28, 2007, Johann and I were married. It was an eventful day that marked the end of an eventful year punctuating a milestone in our eventful lives, as the beginning marker of our life in the future.

Strangely, it feels like it should have always been like this.

Heard in a small room in Singapore

* * * *

1: Are you sure you want to do this?

2: Yes, I’m sure. But is this place clean?

1: Of course, they’re professionals. I went there the last time myself. They know what they’re doing.

2: Okay – but please make sure you hold my hand…

1: Of course babe. There for you all the way.

* * * * *

1: Grip my hand! Go on, breathe.. breathe.. through your mouth, in and out. In and out. Great job, you’re doing so well…

2: Oh my God is it done yet? I can’t take it, it hurts too much..

1: You can do it, just breathe. Grip my hand, go on, don’t think about the pain.

3: It’s almost done, hold on… breathe…

2: Oh god this hurts.. take it out, please, take it out..

1: Almost done, just grip my hand! You’re doing so well.. breathe through your mouth, short breaths. Go on, in and out in and out.

3: Hmm. Here, Number 4, you do it, your pinky is thinner than mine.

4: Okay. You can do it, just breathe… now wait…. Relax.. (tunnels with his pinky..)

2: Is it over? Oh god this hurts.

1: It’s almost there.. they just have to finish it, just that last little bit of skin to cut through. Almost there now.. breathe breathe

2: I can’t take it. Please take it out, take it out, take it out!

1: Grip my hand, breathe, it’ll be over soon..

2: No no no I can’t take it, please please take it out, this is too painful…

3: Okay, we’re done!

* * * * *

Multiple choice:

A) A women’s clinic where unmentionables are taking place

B) Obstetrician and patient in Labor Ward

C) Neveen getting her nose pierced (unsuccessfully)

This was Neveen’s first trip to Singapore and she wanted to end it with a bang… well, in a way it did. With tears and some blood, plus some amazing pinky dexterity. Whichever it was, she now has a souvenir to bring home to Egypt with her.. and maybe, just maybe, she may want to try it again. Cos now she knows what she has to go through, whatever doesn’t kill her will only make her stronger.