Upon entering the neighborhood, one couldn’t help but notice the lively atmosphere, particularly when the house hosting the gathering was the fifth one in the row. The street was bustling with children, women, and men, especially around the main hall of the mosque, connected to the grand house. Just by glimpsing at its gate, you could tell that it was a marvel of architecture and opulence.
Three separate booths stood nearby, one filled with neatly arranged white chairs. The first hall was teeming with distinguished teachers, both local and foreign, especially those who imparted knowledge to fellow Muslims. The second booth was exclusively designated for women, spanning all ages, while the third one accommodated men, both adults and children.
What truly stood out was the elegance and grace of the Wajan people. Despite the festivities, everyone was dressed modestly, with no one revealing anything inappropriate in the name of celebration.
Although the house was brimming with people, it didn’t detract from its grandeur. It was a sprawling family residence, unmistakably meant for a single owner. You could see the entirety of its vast interior upon entering through the gate, revealing five to six sections that all shared the same architectural beauty, each displaying its unique colors and purposes.
As I ventured inside, I found myself uncertain of my role or the purpose of my presence. So, I accompanied the crowd to the second section, which seemed to be the most popular spot. The entire mosque courtyard was alive with people, affording me the opportunity to enter the room where the bride was being attended to.
There stood a young woman, likely in her late teens or early twenties, each detail of her long, milk-colored dress adorned with golden flowers and studded with gemstones. The women around her engaged in spirited conversations that made it hard to hear anything else.
“Marriage has a way of making everyone contemplate life,” one of the girls in a small golden veil quipped with a chuckle. Almost in unison, they all turned to gaze at a solitary figure lying on the bed, facing away from them, her body modestly covered with a small hijab.
“Iman, you’ve been in a daze since yesterday,” another voice chimed in, joining the laughter that filled the room, as they playfully approached the bed. Their giggles and clapping hands resonated with excitement. “Tomorrow, it’s going to be explosive!”
On the other side of the room, a young girl sat by a mirror, meticulously fixing her hair and makeup. Her eyes sparkled with frustration as she eventually abandoned her perfume and left the room.
Amidst the chatter, the bride continued to shout, “Tomorrow, it’s going to explode! Tomorrow, it will be explosive!” They chatted, laughed, and reveled like lifelong friends, mostly young girls, no older than 16 or 17.
Unbeknownst to them, tears welled up in the bride’s eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She remained still, seemingly unaware of her friends’ curious gazes. She had been on my mind since the previous night. This day had been eagerly anticipated, a visit from her beloved Yah Abdallah, but she was oblivious to her own condition. Perhaps it was more about the new life beginning tomorrow, God willing. The tears returned, tugging at her heartstrings until the veins in her neck seemed stretched to their limit.
“Hey there, you kids!” A voice suddenly boomed from behind them, silencing the room. They all turned to see the speaker, and she clapped her hands, urging them to take their seats and get organized.
“Sorry, Addah,” one of them mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. Addah approached the bed, shaking her head. “I’ve heard it all, now go outside.” One by one, they filed out, making small, reluctant noises, knowing that today, Addah wasn’t in the mood for games. She was unrelenting today. As the girl’s tears flowed once more, she sat down and offered comforting words. “Come on, dear, that’s enough crying. Leave the bride be; she’s a precious bride for a wonderful husband like Abdallah. Or is the marriage in jeopardy?”
The young girl leaned forward, her tears glistening in her eyes, and then she collapsed onto Addah’s shoulder, weeping once more. At first, Addah chuckled and patted her back, remarking, “Today, Nuaymah, our household’s leader, has softened towards the significance of marriage.” As the girl continued to cry, her tears seemed to melt into Addah’s embrace, and they found solace in their closeness.
