Makings of a T'oy - Part 4

Upon our arrival back in Andijon, after the first t’oy in Ferghana (the keilin’s hometown), the streets of our neighborhood were lined with neighbors, kids, and everyone who just happened to hear that a t’oy was in the works. Elbowing my way through the crowd to have the most advantageous access to the arriving bride and groom, my host family repeatedly tried to shove me out of the thronging crowds’ way – much to my resistance – and boy did I quickly learn why…

Surrounded and jostled, the groom extracts the bride (who’s head and upper torso are wrapped in a white shawl) from the car, throws her over his shoulders and rushes her into the house, while his male friends race after them and tear a part of the wrap-cloth from him – symbolizing some brutish, archaic practice of stealing women for wives. I could barely get a couple of snaps off without getting trampled by the excited crowd.

From this point of the two day affair, details are more of the same as the first wedding that day – groom and keilin parade through the crowd to sit at a head table set up in a giant tent in front of the groom’s house; hundreds of people come throughout the night to eat, make toasts, and dance, while family members cycle through plate after plate of food – clearing, filling, washing. Those seconded to the kitchen or washing station never even see beyond the front gate, only the empty plates that are brought back to be refilled. I can’t remember when it was I was able to escape to my locked room to finally sleep. All I know is it must have been after they carved up the prized lamb torso that they had stowed away in my room to keep out of the greedy hands of guests. This was reserved for the groom as he prepared for his first wedding night. And as far as I know, this was done behind closed doors with an entourage of this close friends to whom we brought a tray of cigarettes and vodka. The bride was accompanied into her room with three of her best friends. What ritual takes place beyond this went well past my long-awaited rest – alone, locked in my room…with the lingering smell of lamp shank.

I awoke later that night to find people sleeping wherever they can find space – on various cots around the garden, on our outdoor sitting area, in the kitchen. After the throng earlier that day, the solitude and quite seemed voluminous under the constellations above.

Bright and early the next day, the keilin’s family from Ferghana came to sit with her in her clothes-strewn sitting room. Lots of food was served of course, and I helped out where I can while still capturing moments with my camera. One of these moments was during the ceremony of accepting the new keilin into the household. Kneeling with her head covered behind a white cloth in front of her new mother and father, she receives handfuls of flour and “osh” (traditional rice dish) from her new parents. This act symbolizes the wishes for her to always have good food to make and to eat as she is welcomed into their home.

The rest of that afternoon was full of guesting with the keilin’s relatives. For forty days after the wedding, she is to receive guests in this manner. Everyone related in one way or another to the family will come to the house, sit, eat, view the keilin’s new clothes, bid her good wishes, and leave. Family members endeavor to uphold this tradition with a backbreaking pace of cooking, cleaning, serving, washing – for forty days…

…and as we await the end of this grueling cycle, I am experiencing the process of a new keilin’s assimilation into the Uzbek home. For better or for worse, she appears to represent a new generation of keilins, who doesn’t just have a mind of her own, but a mind that is breaking away from the traditional expectations of who she should be. Having lived with two other keilins in my previous host-families, I have learned what these strict, traditional, protocols are, and so far, this new keilin is breaking all of them!

This ends the “Makings of a T’oy” series.

Comments

[Ana]

Thanks --I really enjoyed reading these!