•Bilal

Wow! So in a few hours I'll officially tie the knot with my beautiful, Somalian bride.

After several weeks of planning from scratch, with Bilan's help of course, we were here to celebrate our union in a luncheon that we decided to hold in Somalia.

Yesterday, the traditional Somalian nikah was held with the eldest members of both our families, ratifying our marriage that was officiated by an Imam. Today, there was the wedding party which was to take place in the evening then lastly, a dinner of traditional food of *bariis iskukaris and meat for the men of her family as well as mine, including our friends.

Women sang as if their vocal cords were made of silk and danced graciously as if it was their last day on earth.

My family members, which consisted mostly of Baba Imran's family, were not much so we could afford to pay for their flights to attend the wedding.

At a point, I knew Bilan was getting scared to the point of suspecting that I was in love with another. Which is not possible by the way!

I don't blame her though. In her country, women tend to get married at the early ages of 15 and 16. At the age of 21, everyone was starting to think she was flawed and of misfortune to her family. Apparently, her parents were the radical type so it wasn't hard to convince them to marry their daughter out to a man who wasn't of Somalian descent. Also because they were from the Northern part of Somalia where they allowed marriage between non-related families to enable the establishment of new affinities.

She probably felt like I was going to retract from our plans. And if this wedding hadn't taken place, her parents would've set her up for an arranged marriage which wouldn't end well for her because there was never any form of assurance to Somalian men. Women getting divorced was a daily routine so marrying a foreigner was her best option.

We had various ceremonies before today, another will be held after our  wedding as subject to her traditions. Seven days after the wedding, there'll be another party strictly for the women.

We brought gifts of traditional food to the venue so they could have a taste of the Nigerian flavours. Jollof rice was the first with fried turkey parts then pounded yam and egusi soup with ice fish, Tuwo and Miyan kubewa then lastly masa which was similar to their *macsharo yariis and Miyan taushe.

My mother made them specially for the occasion with her friends and sister in-laws.

It seemed they had all enjoyed it as there was no food left in all the containers, just empty wrappers, cups and used tissues.

I also got to taste a few Somali dishes. The tastiest was one I found hard to remember it's name. I think it was cabbage with kashmiri chili and sesame seeds. I felt a burst of flavours as the first spoon fell into my mouth. How do I put it? A simple contradiction of flavours with a balsamic taste.

I never imagined an outdoor wedding to be this beautiful in Somalia to be honest. It was an amazing experience!

We just arrived in a Caddilac XT5. For once, Bilan was late for something and it was her wedding! It was normal for the bride and groom to be late here so I wasn't worried.

It was worse for others because you'd see 07:00pm on the invitation card but the bride and her groom would arrive by 11:00pm. If it was in Nigeria, the guests would've left by then though our weddings lasted past midnight too so this was something we could say both countries coincidentally had in common.

Better late than never right?!

For the guests-a mix of  Nigerian, Indian and Westerners-were in attendance.

There was music everywhere from English to Arabic to the songs in pidgin English by our very own Burna boy and a few others like Seyi Shay, Simi and Yemi Alade.

The decoration of the wedding venue was rather whimsical. It had a romantic feel to it with a bohemian touch. Oversized bouquets layed everywhere in different shapes, sizes and colours. A lush wildflower bush field covering an exquisite table setting and unexpected decor pieces that littered the place gave it a fairytale inspired vibe.

There was a route that was left for only me and Bilan to follow which was covered with a red carpet. It was as if we were of royal blood.

I know this place would look so much better in the night with the perfect lighting. Another reason for my excitement was Hamza's arrival. He came late though. I was starting to think he wouldn't come at all. I was hoping he'd find another beauty that'll make him forget Aaliyah.

If I'm being honest, she's only making him suffer. He's too stubborn to see she has moved on. A year without any form of communication is useless.  At times, I feel like they're too good for each other. She's just as stubborn as him. When will she accept that she loves him?

She asks about him almost everyday but her doggedness is what is killing her. When you tell her the truth she'll start getting angry.

You know what they say, birds of the same feathers flock together. Let's see if these love birds will come to a civil understanding.

Hamza is not even at fault. Aaliyah is the renegade to his intense love.

When the Arabic playlist was switched to Somalian, it became inevitable to not perform the *sayalici dance. I was a flop at dancing but since it was our day, I was willing to do it just to make her happy.

As we waltzed on the dance floor, it started raining. I was exultant to say the least. Here, it was believed that, if it rained or had drought in that part of the year then the union would be a blessed one.

Bilan soon started crying and It broke my heart to the core but I had to put on a strong face.

"Why are you crying?"

"It's just that...this...this...is a dream come true." She whispers against my shoulder, holding me a bit too tight.

She was some inches shorter so I had to slouch a bit to accommodate her height. The photographer showed me a picture he took as she hugged me and I couldn't help it to feel jittery. We looked like we were in our own world as we stared deeply into each other's eyes. It was the perfect scenic wedding picture.

I suddenly felt like we were still in New Hampshire. The memories started coming back to me slowy like a slideshow and I wanted to cry out of sheer, unadulterated, happiness for us.

I wonder if she'll remember the time her mother thought we were kissing in the car when I was only showing her a picture on my phone. Suddenly, she appeared at the side of Ruqayyah's window screaming and banging the window hysterically. To cut the story short, we almost got smacked that day.

Another, was when she surprised me on my birthday with a cake, made T-shirts with our names on it and wrote me an ode. This was probably one of the most memorable moments because the gesture warmed my heart so much I loved her even more after hearing her say it out loud.

It's been years since all that happened but I still remember everything clearly as it were today. Will she remember the time we went to celebrate the colour festival with some of my Indian friends and she got jealous and spilled her drink on my Latina classmate because I was laughing at something she said?

I don't know but I hope so. I could use it to tease her one of these days.

I want to call her name and whisper sweet nothings into her ear as we both reminisce silently. It'll be our own little secret-our inside joke but she was too distracted so I'll let it be for now.

"I know right. This is one hell of a dream come true. Stop crying babe. They'll all think something is wrong. Don't be a cry baby."  I said while tracing her hands that were ornately covered in henna tattoo with my larger ones.

She laughed as she wiped the tears with the back of her palms.

Once the music came to a halt, she let go of me to get some food for herself. I watched from afar at how enticing she looked in her *hidi yo dhaqan. Her hair was styled to the back and covered, only letting a few stray curls to hang low above her forehead. And her make-up, spectacular! If I didn't know, I'd say she didn't apply any to her face because it looked so natural. That was how beauteous my bella was.

Like kids, Me, and the other guests ran under the canopy to take cover against the rain. We all had a good laugh after before everyone went back to doing whatever they were doing. Which was either dancing or eating.

Soon it was time for us to cut the massive, four layered cake and I couldn't be more happier because it was my favourite flavour; Vanilla.

"Ten...six...four...". We counted down before cutting the cake and feeding it to each other with a golden fork.

Everything went in a blur as we spent the last few moments dancing and socializing with our guests till the end of the ceremony where they placed Somali shillings on us just as they danced in a circle around us. Something both cultures seemed to practice...

A driver was sent to come and take Bilan back to our hotel while another car took me and Hamza to the next venue for 'the little macho get together' for the guys.
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This chapter was probably the hardest to write for me because of the thorough research I had to do. If I didn't get some things right, I apologise to the Somalians that may read this and be offended❤️

Bariis iskukari-(Somalian) This is simply rice spiced with cumin, cardamom, cloves, and sage.

macsharo yariis- (Somalian) Mini rice and coconut cakes which is round and fluffy just that the insides are crunchy.

Miyan kubewa-(Nigerian) This is a delicacy which is known as okro soup in English.

Masa/waina-(Nigerian) It's a snack made with a different kind of rice. It's soaked for a few hours before it is rinsed and  blended into a paste which will be cooked.

sayalici-A traditional Somalian dance which is done by the bride and groom at their wedding.

Hidi yo dhaqan-Traditional Somali dress.

~Aisha Safiyanu🥀