SO HOW DID YOU TWO MEET

A question that hovers in one's mind, when one meets a couple who were not married in our traditional way of mother of the groom spots a suitable girl, discusses her with the son and then makes a visit to her family to ask for her hand.

Although most of the other ways could still be considered traditional in contexts,  it is the unique details in every case that spark a curiosity in acquaintances, and acquaintances only, to ask this question.

So here's mine, hoping that I on my part, will hear yours some time.

In July 1968, after my father passed away, I decided to leave the country and had two offers at hand. One was to Seattle, Washington to join an engineering firm in an attempt to emigrate and settle there, the other was to Saudi Arabia that for me was unsettling, but would keep me in the region.

It was during this period that Bushra showed up on our doorstep,

coming to visit my sister for the first time. She had recently graduated from AUB with a Masters Degree in Psychology and, with my sister, was working as a researcher with one of the United Nations agencies in Lebanon.  I got to know that she belonged to a conservative Syrian family living in Ras Beirut not far from our house.

Eventually, Bushra joined our group of friends of mixed genders few of whom were already paired. Our activities as a group were mostly going together for evening dinners or weekend day trips to the mountains or to the beach.

Bushra did not know how to swim, so every time we went to the beach, my friends would point to me and tell her ” Go to him, he’ll teach you,” and I would gallantly oblige.

One time, we were discussing food and Bushra mentioned off-handedly the fact that Tisiquieh was a traditional dish in their family. Upon hearing this, a spontaneous heartfelt wah came out from me that was heard by everybody. An understanding look was exchanged between my sister Umayma  an her friend Mariana. The guy is stuck at last. علق.. Ubeknown to me even then, both had decided us for each other and were discreetly manipulating events in that direction. As for myself, and still so far, I was unaware of what was being schemed. يا غافل الك الله .

It took one of my friends, Suheil,  to pin me down one day and say it straight to me in my face “Hey Ziad, that Bushra is the ideal girl for you. Go after her.” .......  And in the manner of an obedient hound, that's exactly what I did.

The next time we were together with our group, and at the end of our outing, I invited Bushra to join me in my car to discuss a private matter with her. She got into the front seat, and as she did, two of our friends, Mohamad and Jamal opened the backdoor of the car to join us, unaware of what was on my mind. I looked at them and ordered  in a very stern and commanding tone “Get lost.” They burst out laughing and went away. That was my official announcement that we were pairing off.

As we drove around and around, I told Bushra that I was interested in her and would like to know her more by going out together more often. I assured her that I was serious and not just spending and wasting both her time and mine. That I hoped everything will work out for both of us to eventually marry and live together as husband and wife. My approach was very level headed lacking in romantic flavors. Her only concern was that I was only one year older than her. A concern bred in the traditions of our culture. A concern that was easy for both of us to dismiss.

So we started going out together.

Not long after, she expressed her wish one evening that we both go to the the Creperie in Jounieh for dinner, which we did.

 After we finished, we walked back and got into the car.

Before I started the car, I grabbed the opportunity to tell her that I was serious about her, and if she felt the same towards me, it was time for us decide on getting married.    I told her that at the time I was of limited resources but already had an apartment house of my own to start with. Spoke of my plans to go to Saudi Arabia for a well paid job that will require me and later both of us to live in rural forlorn areas in the desert. I was a road construction engineer, and the nature of my work dictated that I live in rural regions that have not yet been reached by a road. I did not want to paint for her a life full of roses ahead of us. Nothing of of the I am madly in love with you or I cannot live without you stuff. It was a very clinically sterile descriptions of what was ahead of us.

She answered saying "I will go with you to wherever you have to go." Period. No questions asked.

OMG . . . .  this girl had blind confidence in me at a time when my self confidence was still shaky.

A heavy burden weighed on my shoulder.

She could not have said anything better for that moment.  It was a dark cool starry night with a full moon shining on both of us.

It filled us both with intense emotions and we kissed for the first time.

Now came the time to meet the family.

Bushra belonged to a traditional bourgeios Damascene family of two parents and eight siblings of whom she was the eldest. They all lived in Beirut except for the father who stayed in Damascus looking after the family business. The mother was handling the family affairs here.

So I was invited to dinner at their house.

As we sat in the salon, the mother, a Prima Dona by her own right, talked nonstop. She was singing high and low, saying things left and right.  At one time, she even remarked, يو نحنا ما منعطي بنانيي. (we do not marry our daughter away to Lebanese. )

I sensed she was the one who was tense.  This was the eldest and the first of her children to marry. So I crossed my legs and put myself at ease.

Well, not completely at ease. Those teenage sisters of hers sitting in the corner, they kept eying me,  whispering among themselves and giggling.

When we sat at the dining table, Bushra started by distributing bowls of soup a l'ongnion she had prepared for the occasion, while her mother, placed among others, her pride of a large plate of stuffed vine leaves.

In a calculated move, I painfully ignored the steaming hot bowl of soup in front of me and started by helping myself with a serving from her mother's vine leaves. That did it. The Italians knew it all the way. "Che voglio la figlia caressa la mamma," they say. Tensions relaxed and the rest of the evening went very smoothly. I had taken the first step up a ladder that eventually lead to the position of being her favorite son in law.

Next thing, I abandoned plans for immigration to the USA and signed a contract with a Saudi contractor to work on a road construction project. The pay was good and not much opportunity to squander, being in the middle of the desert.

Loaded with presents to the family, I flew back to Beirut less than one year later, february 1970, for the wedding. Bushra and my sister Umayma had set everything for the occasion. I on my part had saved enough for the three pillars of a wedding. A diamond wedding ring, a wedding party in one of the Beirut hotels and a honeymoon in Europe.

Back from our honeymoon, we boarded a plane to Jeddah where my Jeep was waiting for us. We passed by the market, bought some linen, pots and pans, and headed to the  house provided for us by my employer, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

We were starting from scratch, except that we had each other, and the pots and pans clattering  in the back of my Jeep.

MY STORY WITH READER'S DIGEST

I've been a regular reader of RD since I do not know when. Could have been since sixty years. This story happened with me more than fifty years back and I will never forget it. 

Some time in the year 1958, I read an article in RD stating  that if you fold a piece of paper over itself fifty times, the thickness reached would be equivalent to the distance of travel from the earth to the moon and back for an x number of times. I was fascinated but not surprised by the answer, knowing then, as a high school student, what geometric progression in algebra is about. 

Later that same year,  I sat for an interview facing a panel of three professors to qualify for acceptance as a student to the Faculty of Engineering at the American University of Beirut. I had been preparing  myself for weeks reviewing my textbooks of math, science, history, geography et al. 

The first question asked was "if you fold a piece of paper fifty times, how thick would it get?"

-"If you know the thickness of the sheet, you can find out using the formula of geometric progression," I answered and wrote the formula on the blackboard. 

-" Do you think it could reach up from here to there?" asked the professor  pointing to end of the room. 

I realized immediately the professor had also read the article and was trying to pull my leg. 

-"Oh no, the result would be astronomical. The ensuing thickness is an x multiple of the distance between the earth and the moon" I answered. 

The interview ended there and then with that single question. No need for more and I was accepted. They realized I was not that person whose leg could be pulled. Good material for a future engineer. 

By the way, I got hooked on RD here in Lebanon through my late father who himself was a regular reader, and my mother who at one time was regular to Al-Mokhtar, the Arabic version of RD.