The Token American

A girl who came to a couple of youth meetings came into the Center last week to invite me to her brother’s wedding. The wedding was last night – and I only went to a small part of it (“small” – but lasting from 8pm to 1.30am). It actually started on Saturday with still other schtuff beforehand on Thursday and Friday. Then they went to get the bride at 3pm on Sunday. Monday is women’s day. So my 5 ½ hours truly is a small part. Anyhoo…

I don’t want to take for granted the opportunity to mingle with around 400 Albanians. Many of the people I met last night are Albanians living in Switzerland, Germany, and Austria - yet the bulk live in Gjilan. So, despite music levels being entirely beyond what is possible to carry on conversation, I was introduced to bunches of people – and I hope to be able to remember their faces. I also hung out (“passed the time”) with a 17-year-old dude who often comes to the Center. This might not be the best rational and might be a little superficial, but I think that it’s important for us from the small Christian community of Gjilan to be seen – and, yes, be seen dancing and having fun Albanian-style. So, there ya’ go - that’s what I was doing. It might not be deep and personal, but I hope it’s still meaningful.

That said, sometimes I go back and forth between essentially feeling “used” (as the token American - not just at this wedding, but on several occasions) and being overwhelmed by peoples’ generosity and hospitality to me. There is no reason why I should’ve sat at the family’s table - I had never even met them before other than the 14-year-old daughter 3 or 4 times. The care and kindness of the mother-of-the-groom was really sweet from the time I arrived to when I left. The other part, though, was answering “Yes, I’m from America”-questions and even being introduced by the band as “Roberta Tslogg – American girl” (which apparently meant that it was my turn to lead the circle with the white hankie – I’d never done this, and it was a little nutso to navigate a big circle of 150-some people in this restaurant. I, the girl with the red face, passed the torch as soon as I could).

I wish some moments could be captured on camera – or at least stocked accurately in my memory. Like the middle-aged dude in the pin-striped suit dancing like a total champ. He wasn’t the only one, but it’s pretty fun that men here aren’t afraid to swiggle their hips. (I later talked with him and his Swiss wife of 21 years – of being away from family, adjusting to cultural differences, and cultural identity…nice couple). Or the line of 15 or so young men totally getting into traditional dancing (and looking pretty incredible – and hilarious). Or circle dancing in a line led by a woman at least in her 80s who had the best dancing posture of anyone (usually the older women sit and watch). Or the girl who invited me to the wedding doing a Turkish-looking dance-strut down a table and men (her cousins and uncles) balancing their cups on their heads, bouncing their shoulders, and yelling “Upa! Woot! Woot!” as she passed. Or the gorgeous, gorgeous bride doing her first circle-dance with the family with well-wishers putting 50 and 100 euro bills in the straps of her dress. Or, instead of going home in a taxi as I had planned, the family insisting on someone driving me home in the totally decorated newlyweds’ car (oops). […Or seeing how clumsy I was in my 1st stiletto attempt on this side of the pond. Or not being able to fall asleep right away because of the ringing in my ears…].

Oiy, oiy, oiy. While I'm looking forward to the end of wedding season, I also want to soak it in and appreciate the moment. ...and I want to be careful about not being an experience hog.