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BAGHDAD - Women in strapless dresses and men in
tuxedos were twirling to Kurdish folk music at a
wedding party, their children clapping hands in
excitement, when a blast rattled the hall's windows
and the electricity flickered and died.
But the partygoers in this new Baghdad were not
deterred. "Don't they have a generator?" guests
called, urging the drummer to keep playing.
Baghdadis have begun to insist on returning to good
times - at least sometimes - in this edgy city where
daily bloodshed has killed more than 620 people in
the last month and made fear and stress part of the
daily diet.
Three wedding parties on one day - one Christian,
another Sunni and the third Shiite - demonstrated
the growing need for occasional normalcy amid the
violence.
"I might die from one of those random rockets, which
might fall on my head while I am lying in bed," said
the bridegroom's mother, Selma Munther, 49, a
Christian Kurd. "We should go on and continue our
lives, despite all we are going through."
The bride, Zena Yousef, and bridegroom, Yousef Jajjo,
arrived at Marhabah Hall, a private wedding hall in
eastern Baghdad, arm in arm after their wedding in a
church.
"I am very happy; words are not helping me," said
the bride, holding a bouquet of white roses.
Umm Zena, 40, the bride's mother, called the
occasion "unbelievable. In the middle of all the
ongoing disastrous events, we can still feel
happiness from the bottom of our hearts."
Women came to the hall covered in long coats, but
soon tossed them aside to show off party wear,
including strapless dresses. Many had gotten their
hair done and wore makeup and perfume.
Some men seemed astounded, staring as though trying
to fill up their eyes with these uncommon sights.
Iraqi women cannot wear such dresses in public. In
several cities, Islamic militants have publicly
flogged and threatened unveiled women. Militants
have accused them of being infidels and aligning
themselves with the despised secularized culture of
the United States.
Outside the hall, two security guards stood guard
with machine guns.
The hall's manager, Bassam Manuel, said his parties
are not what they used to be in Saddam Hussein's
era, when the streets were more secure.
"Before the war, the parties used to start at 9 in
the evening and end at 2 in the morning," Manuel
said. "Now the parties start at 3 in the afternoon
and end at 8. Alcoholic drinks are forbidden - we
don't want any trouble."
On top of that, he said, he's had to double his
prices. He charges about $6 for the cheapest dish:
four pieces of shish kebab, a piece of bread, a soft
drink and three kinds of appetizers.
All of this is still affordable for middle-class
families, who are starting to view a party, with its
brief moments of carefree joy, as money well spent.
The accommodations were more costly, but the
attitude much the same at another wedding held in
downtown Baghdad, in the Al-Ilwiyah Social Club near
the Sheraton and Palestine hotels.
"I consider all these parties a divine sign that we
will return to a prosperous Iraq," said the
bridegroom, Zaid Falih, 26, a Sunni Muslim banker
who got married in a court the day before. Two
explosions resounded nearby during his party, but
Zaid ignored them.
Zaid's mother, Iman Kammona, 50, hovered on the
verge of tears as she watched her son stroll down
the club's red carpet, holding his bride's hand and
whispering words that made her smile bashfully.
Falih paid $250 for his suit and $300 for his wife's
wedding dress, $700 for food and more than $500 for
other party expenses like the car, decorations and a
band. It cost about $350 to rent the club for the
party, but the bride, 24-year-old Dhuha Samir, said
the security the club provided - seven guards - was
worth it.
In eastern Baghdad's Sadr City slum, there were no
guards when Ghassan Abdul Salam held his wedding
party at his home as a way to save money.
Abdul Salam, a 38-year-old unemployed Shiite Muslim,
had long dreamt of hiring Fouad Salem, a popular
singer, to perform at his wedding party.
In the end, not only a lack of money prevented that.
Followers of anti-American cleric Muqtada al-Sadr,
who control the area, forbid music in the district,
claiming singing is the voice of Satan.
Abdul Salam, also married in court the day before
his party, rented a suit for himself and a wedding
dress for his bride.
The men sat on rented plastic chairs in the garden
and were not allowed to see the women inside Abdul
Salam's home.
But in a sign of their own devil-may-care attitude,
partygoers disregarded the ever-present danger of
the street to help themselves from banquet tables
set up on the road outside Abdul Salam's home.
Reuters
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