Wedding Driver

The day of the wedding started early. For some unknown reason Madiha didn't have shoes to wear for the wedding. I was her only ride to find some. So Madiha, Layla (a cousin), some aunt I didn't know, and myself all went to the old medina in search of shoes. I believe only one of my readers has been in an old medina, so a little description is in order. Picture a gigantic corn maze, only the corn is not corn but rather buildings and shops. There are donkeys and people and motor bikes going every which way in the narrow alleys. Fes happens to be the largest old medina in the world, with somewhere between half and three quarters of a million people living in it. After navigating through the medina and back, and having a rather a lengthy stay at one particular boutique, we were still shoeless. We were all hot and miserable, with the temp reaching a hundred degrees. This meant we would have to go to the dreaded Fes Jdid.

Fes Jdid is a newer part of the old city, built around 1400 AD. When we got their Layla took my arm and pretended that we were married. Apparently it is notorious for thieves and questionable types of people. She told me not to tell Katie. Madiha then made fun of Layla stating matter of factly that Katie was going to kill her. Through these fun and games we finally found some strappy gold pumps that were to Madiha's liking, and she got the price she wanted.

Fast forward to late in the day. Everyone was panicking and trying to get ready. They suddenly realized they had no real way of getting to the wedding location. So I became the grand chauffeur. I took about six separate trips to the hall, transporting about thirty relatives total. I got some strange looks as onlookers saw a very white American driving a car filled with old Moroccan women decked out in wedding garb. On one of the trips a rather loud cousin who like to call me "Mucho," questioned my driving and said she could have gotten there quicker in a city bus. On the next trip I was escorting her mother who can also be quite abnoxious. She was in shotgun, and I made sure of it to make a few tight turns and late stops. She was holding her breathe, gripping the dashboard, and mumbling prayers for safety. I loved every minute of it.

My last trip was just Hassan (the father) and I. He was stylishly late, since he is the patriarch he can do whatever he wants and get away with it. During the ride there I told him when I graduate from Al Akhawayn I am not going to look for a job, but instead I am going to move to Fes and become a full time taxi driver. He got a good laugh out of this and thanked me again, and I responded "meshi mushkil" (no worries).

During the wedding Madiha came to me in a panicked state and said the bride had forgotten one of her dresses (the bride wears somewhere between five and seven dresses). The dress in question was a special dress to be worn during the cake cutting ceremony. We jumped in the Honda and set off. By this time I knew the route like the back of my hand. Weaving through short cuts and back alleys, we completed the trip in twenty minutes flat. When it came time to cut the cake, Katie and I smiled at one another and both agreed that the bride looked angelic.

salaam alikum