M – Where have you been, Mus’ida? Listen to what I’ve got to say. Marriage isn’t just a wardrobe, a bed, a dressing table, two bottles of perfume, the bride’s crown and a sword for the groom!
Ma – What else is it then? That’s what everyone thinks marriage is about!
M – It doesn’t matter what other people think. Marriage is about bearing responsibilities. ‘Not every one who’s ridden a horse can call himself a rider!’1
Ma – What’s it got to do with horses? Are we marrying the boy off or parading on horseback!
M – We’ve married off the eldest boy, and we’re all going to be parading on horseback on the tenth day after the wedding. The only things our son has got are his wedding clothes, two bottles of perfume, the wardrobe, and the dressing table. They add up to little more than a few planks. If we were to set light to the lot of them, they wouldn’t even heat up the tannur!
Ma – God preserve us! And just what would bring us to set light to them? What on earth brought you to this?
M – Ask your son, who we’ve just married off!
Ma – What should I ask him? I hope you haven’t shouted at him in front of his wife and shown us up when she’s still a bride. That would be so typical of you, Mus’id!
M – We’ve already shown that we can’t hold a wedding properly. We used all the money we had, and had to apologise to lots of people we weren’t able to invite. Then your son takes his wife on a trip and doesn’t come back until he’s invited his wife’s family, your family, my family, all the other relatives, and every other Tom, Dick and Harry to come and have lunch with us.
Ma – Just listen here! They won’t be satisfied until we go and get them a bull and ten sheep! You tell me he’s gone and invited them!
M – You don’t think I’m joking, I hope!
Ma – As far as I’m concerned it’s nothing to do with me. I’m going to get my brother to come and take me to the village and you and your son can deal with this wretched visit on your own!
M – Come on! You can’t run away until you’ve received your guests and given them lunch.
Ma – I have no intention of giving them lunch, and I haven’t got any guests. I didn’t invite anyone. I can’t even get lunch for the people in this house, I’m hardly going to invite an entire army along!
M – Who did invite them then? Some national organisation or a human rights set up?
Ma – I’ve had enough of all this trouble you’ve brought on me. I said to your son, if you go to see your mother-in-law tell her to come over for lunch with her two daughters. I’ve got some local honey left and I’ll get some mutton and vegetables, so don’t worry yourself.
M – So how come he went and invited all those people? How can I feed 150 people, Mus’ida? You know that I was going to put myself in debt to get the chicken, so that the bride didn’t go around saying that her father-in-law got up on the tenth day after the wedding to give her lunch of asid!
Ma – This is exactly what I’m saying! I told your son to invite his mother-in-law and her daughters to lunch. He told his wife, and she said that if it’s a proper invitation we have to invite the entire family and acquaintances. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’
M – Why didn’t he talk to her, and where’s the pound going to come from? Didn’t he dare confront her because she’s still a bride?
Ma – What should he say to her, then, Mus’id?
M – He should tell her, ‘Thanks be to God, we managed to collect money for the bride price and the wedding with a lot of effort and through sweating blood, and we’re still in debt to other people.’ Just so that she’s knows what’s what and she can prepare herself for the responsibilities of married life, and be in no doubt.
Ma – What do you mean?
M – Our daughter-in-law takes one look at the bedroom and the wardrobe with four drawers and the two bottles of perfume on top of the dressing table and persuades herself that she’s married into a rich family. And this is what’s made her persuade her husband to invite along a whole army. The upshot is, she’s put us into such an embarrassing situation it would be easier to run away than face it. As the Arab poet said, ‘Don’t you know that a guest will tell his family about the place he spent the night, even without being asked.’2