“It is a Nikah!” I heard someone say this during my visit to the local Somali halal market in Portland. The word “Nikah” hit me hard, as if I was back 10 years.
Abdi Nor Iftin is a Somali-American writer, radio journalist and public speaker. He lives in Yarmouth.
The word is Arabic and means a “marriage contract” between two people. In Somalia, the word carries a lot more meaning and joy. During the Nikah, people bring goats or cows, even sometimes camels before the ceremony, neighbors gather and talk over “shaah” (Somali tea) about the marriage contract and the couple getting married. Sometimes the Nikah and the marriage happen during the same week or even the same day. Nikahs and weddings have always been events in themselves that could last for a week.
At the shopper-filled halal market in Portland I realized I have not only traveled farm from home, but that some things have fundamentally changed. I wanted to know who was getting married, but I had no interest in going.
The store was also filled with the smell of halwa, a Somali dessert often served during holidays and weddings. During the Nikah the family of the bride often hires a professional halwa cook, and the entire neighborhood is overwhelmed with the incredible aromas of cardamom and nutmeg and the other ingredients while the halwa is cooking.
As a kid I often stayed around scavenging the halwa spattering with friends. When we played competitive soccer, the winning team would walk away with a kilo of halwa. There were days I sneaked into people’s houses during Nikah, risking my life crawling past the man with the thick sticks intended to beat any child trying to sneak in because kids can eat halwa all day. There was an expression often used by youths in Somalia, “Halwa is the most delicious thing God ever made.” No one wanted to take credit for making halwa. It was so good that you had to give the credit to the almighty.
At the halal store, the halwa was selling fast, maybe mostly because of the Nikah, but this time I was not interested in buying any to eat. It was too sweet for my teeth. But I love smelling it, so I spent more time in the store than I planned just to take in that aroma and leave with the sweet memories before going off to pick more apples and bake more pies.
I started listing changes in me since moving to the U.S. I want to take in the aroma of halwa, but I don’t want to eat it. I have missed out on some Somali weddings because I am too busy with work or other things in life. I don’t get a craving for Somali “shaah cadeys,” tea simmered in spice and served with goat or camel milk. This tea is often cooked outdoors in a pot. You can smell it a hundred feet away.
For halwa and shaah to bring joy to me again I think Somali weddings and Nikahs have to return to the way they were in Somalia. Neighbors coming out all together, cheering and eating. These days weddings happen in hotel venues where one has to have an invitation card, and I would rather miss that and go to one where kids are excited for the little splatters of halwa.
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