I recently received a message from a reader looking for more info about the marriage process, so I'm here to write about it! I really did neglect this blog once I started my other one, and never finished explaining the unnecessarily complicated marriage process!
When one of the partners is not a citizen, the process is a bit different and interesting. It requires the couple to legalize their marriage through the Ministry of Justice, as opposed to having a katib kitab at a mosque, or a church wedding. As described in the previous entries, you're required to fulfill many steps before getting to the Ministry of Justice, including other paper work, a medical exam, and for the foreigner, a residency visa.
We went on a Saturday afternoon, at 9am. Upon arrival at the Ministry of Justice, after being led through a maze of army tanks and barbed wire on your way there, we were brought up to a waiting lounge fit with drabby lighting, ugly tables, and possibly the most uncomfortable chairs one could possibly sit in. As soon as we arrived, we knew to get ourselves helped first the good old Egyptian way, with a "tip." Our paperwork was the first to get processed, so we only had to wait 3 hours, instead of who knows how long.
We had my hubby's parents and cousin, and a few friends there with us. It was packed with other couples; some questionable, but most were just refuges from Palestine, Syria, or Sudan, who also have to go through this process. It just so happened that we were approached by one of the somewhat questionable couples, asking for one of us to be their witness because theirs was running late. We looked at each other, then looked at them: that pretty, blond European girl, and that guy in a galabaya... Our party responded with a unanimous, "no."
After about an hour and a half, with my patience getting thin, we learned that the head employee responsible for writing the contracts was just running a bit late to work. Normal, right? At least while we waiting for him to grace the whole office with his presence, someone was filling out our contract. So that by the time he arrived, it was go time. We all crammed into this tiny, dark office, with broken chairs, writing on the file cabinets, and piles of binders and paperwork everywhere.
The officer reviewed the contract's details with us, and asked me if I had any conditions to write into my contract. This kind of marriage contract is like a prenup. You can essentially enter whatever terms and conditions you want for your marriage and/or divorce. It was in that moment that I learned some crazy, shocking things about marriage in Egypt. The officer had suggested that some of the typical conditions women can write down are freedom to work, freedom to travel, freedom to……..[on-set breakdown] WHAT!? I need to request those freedoms? I don't have them otherwise? Do women in Egypt not have these rights!?!? He explained that these are really old-fashioned requests and that it's no longer effective, but if I wanted to right it for the sake of writing it, we could. Fine. OK. We did.
After that drama, we signed our contracts with pens and thumbprints. My hubby had been warning me all week that if he started crying, I better cry with him too. I don't know what happened to his end of the deal. I picked up that pen to sign my name, and I just started bawling.
And just like that we were married. That night, his parents threw us a party with the family to celebrate.
We then took it to a translator's office to then bring it to the US Embassy to have them recognize our marriage, and begin the visa paperwork.
When one of the partners is not a citizen, the process is a bit different and interesting. It requires the couple to legalize their marriage through the Ministry of Justice, as opposed to having a katib kitab at a mosque, or a church wedding. As described in the previous entries, you're required to fulfill many steps before getting to the Ministry of Justice, including other paper work, a medical exam, and for the foreigner, a residency visa.
We went on a Saturday afternoon, at 9am. Upon arrival at the Ministry of Justice, after being led through a maze of army tanks and barbed wire on your way there, we were brought up to a waiting lounge fit with drabby lighting, ugly tables, and possibly the most uncomfortable chairs one could possibly sit in. As soon as we arrived, we knew to get ourselves helped first the good old Egyptian way, with a "tip." Our paperwork was the first to get processed, so we only had to wait 3 hours, instead of who knows how long.
We had my hubby's parents and cousin, and a few friends there with us. It was packed with other couples; some questionable, but most were just refuges from Palestine, Syria, or Sudan, who also have to go through this process. It just so happened that we were approached by one of the somewhat questionable couples, asking for one of us to be their witness because theirs was running late. We looked at each other, then looked at them: that pretty, blond European girl, and that guy in a galabaya... Our party responded with a unanimous, "no."
After about an hour and a half, with my patience getting thin, we learned that the head employee responsible for writing the contracts was just running a bit late to work. Normal, right? At least while we waiting for him to grace the whole office with his presence, someone was filling out our contract. So that by the time he arrived, it was go time. We all crammed into this tiny, dark office, with broken chairs, writing on the file cabinets, and piles of binders and paperwork everywhere.
The officer reviewed the contract's details with us, and asked me if I had any conditions to write into my contract. This kind of marriage contract is like a prenup. You can essentially enter whatever terms and conditions you want for your marriage and/or divorce. It was in that moment that I learned some crazy, shocking things about marriage in Egypt. The officer had suggested that some of the typical conditions women can write down are freedom to work, freedom to travel, freedom to……..[on-set breakdown] WHAT!? I need to request those freedoms? I don't have them otherwise? Do women in Egypt not have these rights!?!? He explained that these are really old-fashioned requests and that it's no longer effective, but if I wanted to right it for the sake of writing it, we could. Fine. OK. We did.
After that drama, we signed our contracts with pens and thumbprints. My hubby had been warning me all week that if he started crying, I better cry with him too. I don't know what happened to his end of the deal. I picked up that pen to sign my name, and I just started bawling.
We then took it to a translator's office to then bring it to the US Embassy to have them recognize our marriage, and begin the visa paperwork.
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