Unusual (Un)invitation!

Most times grocery shopping is treated as an ‘escape route’ by men. The other day, my husband met a long lost colleague at the grocery store where they apparently shared their post fatherhood blues and spoke about wives and kids. The friend extended an invitation to come over that Friday evening for some drinks. Well, considering they had just finished discussing about families, it was assumed that the invitation was for the whole family. We decided to go.

The friend stays in a villa right opposite to the neighbourhood park. My son wanted to play on the slide so I volunteered to be with him .But soon Arhaant followed his Baba to the villa and when we were at the doorstep we found out that the invitation was actually only for my husband as the friend’s wife’s mother had passed away a few days before and her sisters had come over in mourning. Before I could assimilate anything, Arhaant ran indoors, grabbed a toy car and zoomed off! …My husband and I exchanged some 'angry bird' frowns, but it was too late. I was dragged in and the door was closed. It was indeed a huge miscommunication between the men, who meanwhile sat in the verandah, peacefully enjoying their drinks. The kids, who hadn’t learnt about ‘being embarrassed’ yet, enjoyed new company. It was me, who was left midway knowing not what to do!

The only interesting fact was that the friend was from New Caledonia and his wife, from Ethiopia. It was a rare combination. Here in the Middle East, one can find the most unexpected alliances and some beautiful complexioned mix culture kids. A part of me was excited about getting a peek into an Ethiopian –New Caledonian household and the other part of me was self-conscious beyond description.

Theirs was a warmly lit space with very high ceilings,typical of old Arabic villas. The light bulbs evenly spaced into the mouldings dramatically enhanced facial features and drew me into my day dreamland. Finally the hostess asked me if I would join her and her three sisters for a meal. I wasn’t sure which option was disrespectful for the ritual, so I agreed to join the three ladies at the table. There was a massive salad bowl with large pieces of tomato,some cabbage, boiled potatoes and carrots, soaked in vinegar and a very huge something that looked like a home baked cake.She gave me enormous portions of everything and I couldn’t say no as I was busy looking at the lovely peach embroidery on the older sister’s clothes. The Ethiopian traditional dress is an ankle length variation of an Indian sari, but wrapped without any pleats. I had seen women from Sudan wearing the same so most of us Indians had begun calling it the Sudani sari. Hers was a crinkled printed peach fabric with a fashionable sleeveless blouse that had a mini frill on the edges. The youngest sister was wearing a full length pale blue and white dress with a laced head scarf. She had delicate brown eyes and a shy gaze. The hostess wore plain black pants and shirt. She had a six month old baby boy and a two year old girl, who played with Arhaant. I introduced myself, but I did not get their names. Luckily Arhaant's name fits into the Arabic culture and no one asks it twice.

The younger sister seemed more approachable.We exchanged glances and smiled occasionally. I quickly realized I shouldn’t smile too much considering the occasion. They finished eating very soon and I was left trying to strike a balance between friendly and not so friendly head nods.

Soon they lighted some candles by a coffee pot and offered the cake(which was actually bread) to the spirits. Well, this could be my interpretation of the occasion. There was a bucket of popcorn as well in the offerings. The three women started praying. I just stood up and watched. They took turns with prayers and then the bread was cut and distributed to all. The popcorn was given to the kids. I wondered if the purpose was similar to how in my religion crows are allowed to eat the rice cakes on post death formalities. I remembered my Serbian friend telling me about a funeral she attended that seemed quite like a party. I was barely three when my great grandmother passed away. I remember being slightly amused by the eerie silence on that day as I did not know what ‘death’ really meant…

My daze was resurfacing just when I realized that Arhaant had not asked for me since a long time. To save all of us of another embarrassment I hurriedly took him to the toilet…just in time and avoided an 'accident' by a millisecond! (it was just yesterday that I had proudly bragged about my successfully toilet trained boy even by night!)

But that good old excuse gave me the much needed idea for an exit plan. Life never gives second chances, but I hope we get another one to make a better second impression! We hurriedly rushed out with some awkward goodbyes, a very heavy tummy , a brief cultural exchange, of course and a new topic to write on!