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The sounds of the wedding can be heard from far away. In the street where the party is held, there’s also plenty of light. The party turns out to be a bachelor party. At the front, a Nubian band is playing, and in the street, at least 250 men are standing or sitting. A few women watch from balconies on the first floor. We are warmly welcomed at the wedding. All of Mohammed’s friends greet us. We are also introduced to the groom. Someone gives a signal, and a bench is immediately cleared for us. We are offered whisky. Few others are drinking; those who do, drink tea. We politely decline the water pipe—too many people have already used it. Many guests along the sides shyly try to make contact with us, but rarely get beyond “Welcome to Egypt.”