12/25/2023 0 Comments Turkish unity ceremony ideas![]() ![]() ![]() “I have many, many German friends who like going to Turkish weddings rather than Berghain or some club,” Turkish rapper Sultan Tunç tells me. And even though some of these things might seem a bit foreign to the German mindset, it appears I’m not the only one who gets a kick out of them. The men wear sheeny, close-fitting suits the women opulent gowns, even more gold and have their hair piled up. Inside, everything is white and gold, lavishly decorated in a kind of cheap, kitschy glamour. They usually take place in wedding salons, located either in former factories or industrial quarters, themselves often surrounded by Turkish import-export businesses, Turkish supermarket warehouses and the odd inconspicuous mosque. I’ve heard from many German friends that they would like a wedding like that.” Photo by Sonia Teruel Better than Berghain? He will end up pouring cologne into my hands and taking me under his wing. I rarely know who’s getting married, and I always have a funny feeling shaking the hand of the groom’s father – some guy who thinks that Hadice and I are great friends of the family. So now, when word goes around the Turkish community that so-and-so, a friend of a friend, or someone from Hadice’s town or region is getting married, she puts on all her glittery, glitzy finery, digs out her old gold, while I don a suit and tie and we hit the wedding salons. But I found that with every new wedding I was escaping my Berlin, the Berlin I knew, without even having to leave the city. For a long time my only experience of Turkish weddings was a convoy of loud music and horns streaming through the city. And as for me, all this is just about as far away from my Wilmersdorf/Zehlendorf childhood as I could imagine. This time it was my parents who were against it, so we had a dini nikah, a religious marriage, presided over by an imam and certainly without fanfare. As for our wedding, well, it was more of a practical affair. She was only 16, against the idea and had to be sedated with shots just to get through the night. Her own wedding – the first one, an arranged marriage back in Turkey – was an unpleasant affair. But she’s been going to Turkish weddings for as long as she can remember, even if they weren’t always so much fun. Hadice started dragging me out to Turkish weddings as soon as we first started going out back in 2011 – not that I needed much prodding. The other answer is a bit longer and not as clear. One answer is that it’s just a fun night out. So why do we do it? Why do we crash Turkish weddings? The food isn’t that great invariably the same old chicken and rice, and maybe some hummus if we’re lucky. Photo by Sonia Teruel A tale of many weddings Sometimes we don’t even know who’s getting married. In Berlin, some people go to nightclubs, others prefer smoky bars, while some even head out to their Kleingarten in the suburbs to escape. People chat, laugh and dance, and all the while a man with a microphone is giving a running commentary on who’s giving what to the happy couple. Initially I’m a bit shy about getting involved, but Hadice insists, and it isn’t long before we too join the bobbing centipede of dancers. There must be about 700 people here – so just a small wedding then. “They don’t have a care in the world.” The davul, the bass drum, throbs through the room as more join the circle. “Look at these people,” Hadice, my partner in crime, says. No one here needs booze to have a good time. It’s a ball just listening to the live music and watching the dancing. The fact that it’s a dry wedding doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. On closer inspection, the notes reveal themselves to be fake. Now and then a guest comes up and showers the bride with dollar bills, while the kids run around like mad on the dance floor, dashing between the legs of the adults, scrambling for the baksheesh. As the wedding band runs through yet another popular song, the bride and the groom take centre stage. The shriek of the clarinet cuts through the air and all the young bucks hit the floor, linking fingers, forming a circle and dancing the Halay. Robert Rigney explains how to take a short trip to Turkey without leaving Berlin. The men wear shiny suits, the women glitzy dresses, everyone knows how to dance the Halay and everything is covered in gold. ![]()
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