Rediscovering Sudan

Rediscovering Sudan by Mohammed Hasan

I wasn’t born in Sudan and I have never lived in Sudan. I have very few Sudanese friends outside of Sudan. Yet somehow, I feel a deep connection to my country of origin. I feel as Sudanese as anyone that lived there. I love the food, the people, and most importantly the chaotic weddings.

Sudan is a country with a complex beginning, middle, and end. A fractured political system, tribal conflict, and extreme levels of poverty represent the inability of this great country to fulfil its potential. How can country with such a rich history be described as a failed state? How can a country with such a wealth of natural resources produce conditions for famine? How can a country known for its warmth be so divided? These are questions that nobody is able to answer.

After years of not visiting my country, I decided to return for a beautiful wedding. I could write a dissertation on the logistics of a Sudanese wedding not to mention the costume changes, choices of music, and family drama.

Characters in my family:

The Millionaire Uncle: Charismatic and full of self-belief. A successful businessman that isn’t shy about sharing the news of his financial success. He’s equally humble as he is boastful. You can spot him a mile away, and his wisdom is couched in detailed stories about how Mr. X achieved something in spite of all of the obstacles; he is Mr. X. 

The Life of the Party: She’s got a smile that lights up the darkest of rooms. Fluent in French and all things charming. Her voice has more base than a subwoofer speaker – you can spot her in a bright tob driving a large 4x4 – she’s also a killer in the kitchen.

The Silent Assassin:  Creative, Cunning and Curious. I love her dry wit. A wry smile is the cue for unloading her submachine gun of sarcasm into the chests of her opponents. She’s both an academic and an entrepreneur. She’s emotional and fiercely practical. An enigma to many, but I think what you see is what you get.

The Dignified Diplomat: Cool, Calm and Collected. This man exudes charm and has the intellect to disarm the boisterous know-it-all’s. Politics runs through his veins, yet he shares his worldly insights in the form of memorable anecdotes. I’ve learned a lot from this man, and everyone seems to enjoy his company.

George Washington: He doesn’t simply read books, he devours them. I once referred to him as a Sheikh without the religion. He’s a life coach without the preachiness. He’s full of creative ideas and pursues each one of them with maniacal detail. He’s Sudan’s answer to Richard Branson.

Al-Haj Ax: Seldom known for his argumentative nature. Al Ax means the opposite – if the word “contradiction” were to be personified – it would be his spirit animal. If the science supported the flat-earthers movement then he would run across the world in circles to prove the earth is spherical. 

Ok, I admit this is hyperbole, but Al-Haj gave me an interesting insight into the importance of regularly visiting Sudan. “In Europe you live relatively isolated lives: Missing out on opportunities to connect with others and celebrate events such as births, weddings and graduations” [I’m obviously paraphrasing]. He was right: my family are scattered across Europe and the Middle East. For me the UK is dormant in terms of family. My Grandmother’s family easily extends beyond a thousand.

Weddings: A Love-Hate Relationship

Any tourist or citizen will both tell you that weddings in Sudan are not merely ceremonies but events. Anything that involves approximately 2000 guests is considered a logistical nightmare; imagine the challenge of finding enough chairs to seat people let alone cooking enough food to feed them. 

I love the extravagance of Sudanese weddings: a Fanaan (singer), a great venue for the Henna party and the main party. However, there is a dark side to weddings: The social pressure to have a big celebration that the vast majority of families cannot afford; people would rather start their life together in debt than suffer the embarrassment of having an “ordinary” or “boring” wedding.

I don’t want to characterise every Sudanese wedding as the Hollywood hills because that couldn’t be further from the truth, but the pressure to spend beyond your means in return for social approval is insidious. The desire to feel accepted manifests itself in all areas of our life and across all cultures in different forms: We carefully curate our lives by the clothes we wear, the food we eat, and the way we spend our free time – all to create a more favourable impression of ourselves.

The best Henna party I attended was in a small village in Northern Khartoum. The lack of electricity didn’t stop the party: Resourceful residents connected keyboards and guitar amps to their car batteries. People danced under the moon while other ate homemade rice pudding served in plastic cups. 

The sequence of a Sudanese wedding is as follows:

1.     Al-Agid (signing of the contract for marriage); it involves two witnesses: One witness is the father of the bride and the other witness is the father of the groom; they both attend to oversee their children sign the marriage certificate; and

2.     Henna Party (Groom and Bride’s families have their own exclusive Henna Party); and

3.     Al-Jirtik (Bride’s relatives, friends and some relatives of the groom watch the bride dance for the groom – only female relatives can attend this event); and

4.     Al Hafla (the party): This is a general party where both sides of the family will meet and dance; this is also where exchange of rings takes place.

This whole process can take anywhere between three days to an entire week.

This wedding, like all weddings, had its fair share of drama and confetti like displays of wealth. I remember attending Al-Agid at large green mosque and being greeted by hundreds of men – mostly wearing eimas (white traditional scarves wrapped around the head) – different professions ranging from pharmacy and diplomacy to civil engineering and cleaning kitchens. 

Social Norms:

Gossip: When everyone knows everyone – personal information is inevitably shared - yet you’re still surprised how fast news travels. WhatsApp is more popular than Facebook, and the content shared on groups of 30+ members is not strictly political. Men gossip just as much as women. You can expect everything from the government’s renewable energy to strategy to Ahmed’s secret wife; you’ll also see posts of proud parents bragging about their child’s 10 A*s or attempts to schedule the next Khutbah. 

Condolences (Bicca): The irony is that the people who’ve lost a family member are not beset by grief but preoccupied with entertaining and feeding the guests and relatives that visit to console them. A chorus of laughter usually follows floods of tears.

Arriving without an appointment: Expect anywhere between a single person to an entire platoon to be waiting outside of your home. You’ll be expected to feed them and insist they should stay while never daring to ask the question: Why didn’t you call? Strangers are met with suspicion in Europe – even charity fundraisers – are treated like burglars while home owners scold through the narrow gap in the door that’s still attached to a chain. In Sudan, it’s welcome to my home – have a cup of tea – ask questions later.

The thousand-second greeting consists of several hugs or pats on the shoulder depending on your level of familiarity with the person; women usually kiss each other – similar to La Bis in France – Men opt for the bro-hug. People will ask: “How are you?” several times. They’re not fake nor are they suffering from dementia. They genuinely care. This greeting is more about the energy as opposed to its content.

Until next time. I love you Sudan and I’m always thinking about you.

For those aunties or distant relatives reading this – say Masha’Allah – after reading every paragraph. God forbid you give me the bad eye.