A Whats App Wedding – Village Style – Part 1 – The Henna Night

I received the above Whats App message and had no idea from whom it was sent.

The moment this group message arrived, my phone went into overdrive. Dozens of messages came flooding in every few minutes with responses from the masses.

All in Turkish. I really could not work out what what was going on.

I was relieved to see a Turkish message saying… “Whose wedding is this?” Aha! I was not the only one wondering.  Another person wrote, “Remove me from your list, my phone is drowning!

Then a really official message arrived! There was a bit more info here to work with.

It was from an old friend Ismail who was marrying Mine (pronounced Meenay). They had met two months prior and were ready to tie the knot. Pronto. In exactly 4 days from when I got my Whats App message!

At the time, I had a dear Aussie friend called Sue staying with me. Sue was always up for a bit of adventure and said she would happily accompany me.

The Henna Night was to be held Friday night at the bride’s childhood home in Denizli and the next day, the wedding would take place 20 kilometres away, at Ismail’s home in Pamukkale. It would be a 500 kilometre return trip for us, but as the gathering was covering two days, we felt we had the energy and should go for it, as it’s not everyday you get a Whats App invite like this one!

So, Friday morning, off we set. We were due in Denizli by 6pm for the henna party and had taken off with time to spare. After leisurely driving to Denizli, we arrived early.

I can say that I had never attended a henna night before and the idea fascinated me. It is a very important evening, always held the day before the wedding, at the bride’s family home. It is her last night spent with her family and she will have her hands and nails painted with henna.  This ritual displays her dedication to her future husband, children, home and God.

Mine’s address was plugged into our GPS and all seemed in order. Her street number, as shown on the invitation, said 2338 Street, house number 51. Easy!

We got to her village nice and early, around 3.30pm and had the idea that we would work out where the party was and then go off and find a hotel, get changed in comfort and style and be ready for the evening.

Google Maps worked overtime and took us directly to 2339 Street but for love nor money, we could not find 2338 Street. We drove around and around and around. We stopped and asked anybody who dared look at us, to see if they could help. Even a small group of teenagers who all had smart phones. They desperately wanted to help us, but alas, no online map of any kind had knowledge of 2338 Street.

Every street in this vicinity had a number. None were named. It made sense that the streets should be laid out in numerical order but I can assure you, nothing could be further from the truth!

Nearly two hours later we were frustrated beyond belief. We hadn’t showered, changed, found a hotel or even got any clue where the party was. We had driven in circles for most of the afternoon and were no way feeling confident we would make it at all. We had tried ringing Ismail the groom since we were first baffled but he was appreciably unavailable.

Finally, thank goodness, Ismail got back to us and sent us directions. But by this time it was 6.30pm. The party was starting in half an hour!

When you look at the map below, look at the two street numbers next to each other circled in red. They are 38 numbers away from each other, side by side!! Then look at the pinpoint which is 2338 Street, just 2 over from 2361 Street! That’s 23 away numerically! Sadly, I have to say that this is the case in many parts of Turkey. Just because streets are numbered has no bearing on where they will be situated!

When we weren’t pulling our hair out, we made jokes that they got all these street number signs produced, tipped them all into a bag and got the council workers to pull them out like a Lucky Dip and go choose a street to name. How else could they get so incredibly muddled?

With these directions, we were able to navigate ourselves to the party. Once there, we got our bearings, jumped back into the car and dashed off to find a quiet spot to quickly change and grab a bite. It so happened there were no shops nearby and so we just found a dark, empty car park. We grabbed an apple each and a bar of chocolate that we had in our stash then rushed to throw on our dresses out of our cases, changed behind the boot of the car, ran a brush through our hair, slapped on some lippy and raced back to where all the fun was to be had! This whole process took all of 25 minutes and had us back at the Henna Night by 7.15pm! As for a hotel, it would have to wait. We would work that out when the time came!

On arrival, we found the street had been closed off by a giant screen set up behind the DJ. Flashing lights and mirror ball type sparkles were flying through the air and row upon row of plastic seats had been set up to accommodate those who preferred to watch and not take part.

We felt scarves would be appropriate. Having not participated in one of these nights before, we were not sure what we were in for. We were led to front row seats and still most seats were empty. Only a few rows of seats had been secured. The atmosphere was anything but electric and a chill was settling into the air. We patiently sat and watched whilst really, nothing at all happened.

At 8.30pm precisely, about 120 to 200 people turned up out of nowhere. It’s as if only the desperate ones turned up on time. Hordes of young girls dressed to kill in chiffon, satin and lace were amongst this late group. They walked through the square and then squeezed between our chairs. We thought they were going to sit behind us but in fact, each one grabbed a stack of chairs and starting passing them over our heads. This went on, and on, and on, and on, until we ended up in the third back row of the whole event!!

Soon the party heated up and every man and his dog was on the street having a shuffle.

Even the local toy shop turned out for business!!

The bride wore a red and white dress and looked like a princess.

The DJ never took a break and played traditional Turkish music as well as Turkish pop non-stop and people danced and danced and danced. No refreshments of any kind were supplied whatsoever and if anyone needed a loo, then I have no idea what was to be done. It was a major reason why we had to leave in the end. We hadn’t seen a WC since 3pm.

Around 10pm they brought out the big pot of henna and the real part of the Henna Night (Kına Gecesi) began. In the middle of the street. Right where we had been dancing. Mine was led out in her beautiful dress and a full red veil over her head and shoulders. It was impossible to see her face through it.

Rather than painting pretty pictures and designs on the skin, they smudge it into the palm of the hand, and on their fingertips and nails using rubber gloves and wooden spoons. It makes the hand look anything but clean but the village ladies love it! These reddy-brown stains will stay firmly on the hands for up to 3 weeks and longer for the nails until they grow out. They are proudly shown off as a sign that you have been to a wedding of someone close to you.

Against tradition, it was a mixed affair where once it was only women who attended this special night. But this was a totally modern wedding. Just look at the invitation!!

The dance floor was cleared and the music was quietened down. The bride was led into the centre of the area, completely veiled by a glittering red sequinned scarf. No one could see through it and she could only just see out.

During the henna ceremony, a hauntingly beautiful song was sung about the bride having to live so far away from her family and grief and sadness prevail, as she contemplates leaving them all.

During this special night the bride should not be seen as being too happy. It is her last night with her family and she should act a little melancholy. Tomorrow night she gets to kick up her heels!

In the middle of the dance area, the bride sat. Her mother carried the bowl of henna in a copper bowl out to her, lit by a candle. A dollop of henna was plopped into each hand and a small gold coin placed on top of the henna. Then her hands were bound in red material for a short period so that the henna would seep in. Once the allotted time was up, her hands were cleaned and the veil was removed. She could dance again… not too happily though! It was still a sad night.

The words to this song are sad but meaningful.

Yüksek yüksek tepelere ev kurmasınlar – They shouldn’t build homes high up on the mountain tops
Aşrı aşrı memlekete kız vermesinler – They shouldn’t give girls to faraway lands
Annesinin bir tanesini hor görmesinler – They shouldn’t neglect the mother’s one and only

Uçan da kuşlara malum olsun – May the birds carry the message
Ben annemi özledim – I miss my mother
Hem annemi hem babamı – Both my mother and father
Ben köyümü özledim – I miss my village

Babamın bir atı olsa binse de gelse – If my father had a horse, he could jump on it and come
Annemin yelkeni olsa açsa da gelse – If my mother had a sail, she could open it and come
Kardeşlerim yollarımı bilse de gelse – If my siblings knew the way, they could come

Uçan da kuşlara malum olsun – May the birds carry the message
Ben annemi özledim – I miss my mother
Hem annemi hem babamı – Both my mother and father
Ben köyümü özledim – I miss my village

Once each girl and woman has got her henna dousing, the dancing began again. To start this part off, the men take the floor and picked up the groom horizontally and started throwing him into the air. Luckily everyone is sober for this affair and after abour 3 or 4 tosses, Ismail was allowed to stand on his own two feet again.  In one piece still, Maşallah!!

Like any good party, a few rifles came out of the woodwork and shots were fired into the air and a lot of shouting took place.

At this point, a loo was sorely needed. Our feet had done enough dancing for one night. We sneaked away quitely and managed to find our car. Thankfully we had parked far enough away that we were not blocked in. Many streets were totally jam packed. We pulled out our phones and searched for a place to stay on hotels.com and could find nothing at all nearby in Denizli. We got the idea that we should drive the 20km to Pamukkale as this is a full-on tourist area and there are hotels and pensions aplenty, summer or winter and was where the wedding would be held. It made sense.

So that’s what we did. The Henna Night was definitely an eye opener and gave us our first glimpse of the bride. We had managed to meet a couple of lovely Turkish ladies who took good care of us at the wedding the next day and the venue gave us a taste and understanding of what we were in for at the upcoming agenda.

The pearls were staying in the case along with the stockings.

It was an amazing initiation into Village Life for Sue who I am sure had never seen such a thing before. As for me, it was my first Henna Night and I enjoyed immensely seeing the cultural traditions start to play out. I had no idea what was in store for me at the wedding. I never believed it was going to be as fascinating as it was though.

I hope you will be around for the Big Day. Stay tuned.