The Breakfast Feast

Unlike most of my friends, Eid for me is all about family. I wake up really early in the morning for Eid prayers, then I go back home to change into my brand new Eid clothes. I head off to my grandmother (father's mother) for an early lunch with all my aunts, uncles and cousins. Then I visit my other grandmother for a second lunch and more aunts, uncles and cousins.

Eid this year was a pretty special and busy occasion for my dad's side of the family. My cousin went into labor and had a baby boy the night before Eid. My other cousin became formally unofficially engaged with her Fatha reading on the first day of Eid. And that is the story of how our family added two men to its roster. It's made me realize just how big an impact relationships and marriage have on people and on life.

It was a very joyful Eid, a Eid to remember. Yet it brought my aunt to uncontrollable tears thinking about how proud her father—who passed away when she was just a schoolgirl—must feel seeing the wife and four children he left behind blossom into a garden full of husbands and wives, children and grandchildren. My aunt is the only one of her sisters and brothers in a difficult marriage with no children, and that is her outlook on life: to find the small, dark cloud in the middle of a beautiful, silvery blue sky and weep over it. Cause and effect? Or as the authors of Freakonomics would like to put it, correlation?

Over on my mom's side, things aren't much better. Two of her sisters dove into a young, loveless and emotionally abusive marriage. Both had children. Both are divorced. Both had polar opposite reactions to the hardship. While one aunt stays vibrant and cheerful in spirit (albeit that battle was lost physically to worry lines and premature grey hair), the other is bitter, pessimistic, and takes it all out on her helpless daughter in law and her grandson. I guess it's safe to say that this is just the beginning of a very sad cycle.

I'm not trying to bring the mood down here; not all the women in my family are so unhappy. In fact, if we were to give out prizes for matrimonial bliss, the first prize would go to my parents. And yes, that sentence was intended to be every bit as corny and naïve as it sounded. My parents are a unique pair of simplicity and ambition. The stories of their strife, struggles and triumph truly evoke respect and admiration, but that (perhaps) is for another blog entry.

Seeing all this just makes me wonder: if we were to make a pie chart of all the decisions a person makes in their life and the percentage effect each one has on their entire destiny, how big is the effect of who we choose (or don't choose) to marry?


Note to all my non-existent readers: It's not that I am having doubts or cold feet about my own wedding that is six months away; I am just pondering and exploring. I am at that age where everyone around me (myself included, but that is just a happy coincidence) has entered or is entering in a sacred union. I don't want to generalize or make assumptions, but it is fairly obvious that most people (women) in Egypt feel a certain urge to secure a husband in their early twenties. It makes me wonder why they haven't hought of this pie chart before leaping into the security of companionship instead of waiting with uncertainty for the possibility of something better?