Promised Hands

written by Salma Jayne A. Tamano
first published in ME Magazine

Married to a stranger? This may give a woman goose bumps but in the Maranao society, marriages are usually arranged, meaning a person’s family decides whom he or she marries. They are paired off for reasons that involve politics, social status, or friendship. Sometimes, it is to bring distant relatives closer so as not to taint the family blood with a foreign one. This has been a tradition that goes years back and practiced by many families up to now. Non-Maranaos often wonder if such marriages do last.

I spoke to two daughters of prominent families from Lanao del Sur who married men they have not met before the matchmaking. They are Samee, a practicing social worker and daughter of former mayor Wahid Daksla, and Alexa (not her real name) whose family is also engaged in politics and is an employee of a giant cellular phone company in Metro Manila.

Their parents and relatives planned Samee and Amer’s marriage. A common relative first went to Amer’s family and told them that Mayor Daksla had a daughter who was single and already of the marrying age. She would be perfect for the youngest son of the late Sultan Serad Aguam. The Dakslas and the Aguams are royal families that are distantly related, therefore the match was considered perfect.

After the matchmaking, Amer visited Samee in her house but barely got a glimpse of her for she did not come out to entertain him. They finally got to see and talk to each other in a restaurant in Iligan City three days after the groom’s family proposed to hers. “The purpose of the meeting was for us to get acquainted,“ Samee explained. “My sister accompanied me. I didn’t like him when I saw him. He didn’t seem to like me either. He just wanted to settle down because he wasn’t getting any younger. He’s eleven years older than I am. I even suggested to him that he marry my older sister instead.”

Supposedly, the couple would be wed on August 7, 1997. “But then there was a conflict about the dowry,” Samee said. “An argument arose between our families that led to the canceling of the wedding. The pride or maratabat of both sides were touched. I found that weird because I thought arranged marriages always pushed through. I was happy because I had other plans for myself, career-wise. The last I heard his family was eyeing another girl for him while someone also wanted to propose to me.” (Dowries, or gifts for the bride, oftentimes compose of cash to be spent for the wedding, jewelry, parcels of land, a house complete with furniture and appliances, a car, and whatever the girl’s family will demand from the groom.

Nowadays, the dowry can go up to one million pesos in cash, depending on the social status of the bride and groom.)

However, fate was persistent. One day in Iligan City, Samee and Amer saw each other in a Kodak store. “I said hi to him and asked him how he was,” she narrated. “He stared at me and couldn’t speak for a while. Then he said he wanted to marry me. I told him it would be difficult because my family’s pride was hurt. He said he would beg his family to ask my family to reconsider. He did just that and after a lot of negotiations, we’re now together.”

In the morning of their wedding day on January 17, 1998, Samee got cold feet. “I cried,” she said. “I felt nervous, confused, and afraid. I asked myself if I was doing the right thing. I was marrying a complete stranger whom I didn’t love. I consoled myself by accepting my fate. And I trust my parents.”

When I asked her how their first night together was as Mr. and Mrs. Aguam, Samee shyly admitted she felt tense. Sensing her nervousness, Amer talked to her, asking what her likes and dislikes were. “We just conversed,” she professed. Was the marriage consummated the first night? “NO!” she quickly replied. “I was scared!”

Their marriage is solid as a rock now. “The more I got to know him, the more I realize I made the right decision,” Samee happily relates. “He’s a nice person. Although there are a lot of adjustments, we work and pray hard to make this work.”

Alexa was not as fortunate. Seeing that she was old enough to get married at the age of twenty-eight, her aunt and sister arranged her marriage to Hasheem (not his real name), a lawyer, and a distant relative of theirs. When she was younger, Alexa accepted that she would not marry a man of her choice because in her family, having a boyfriend was considered taboo. But when she learned that someone was being paired to her, she feared she might not like the guy and vice versa. She first saw him at a party. That same night, she cried herself to sleep.

Although Hasheem was not bad looking, Alexa was not attracted to him. During their wedding day, she felt numb. She went on with the ceremony just to please her family. “In our first night together, we talked about ourselves,” she narrated. “The following morning was when it all sank in. I was forever tied to someone I had no feelings for.”

Their first year together was a disaster. Hasheem was based in Marawi City for he taught in a university there. Alexa had a career in Manila that she would not give up. They only saw each other during holidays, which she secretly wanted. Whenever Hasheem arrived in Manila, she became nervous and irritable. They constantly fought especially whenever Alexa denies him her womanhood. “I couldn’t bear to give myself to someone I did not love,” she said, sighing. “I never had a peace of mind. I even planned to commit suicide because I felt life was not worth living anymore.”

Their families tried their very best to make their marriage work. According to Alexa, Hasheem courted her but his efforts were minimal and were not enough to get through her.

Divorce was inevitable due to their irreconcilable differences. In their second year of marriage, Hasheem gave up hope and never went back to Manila. Alexa meanwhile prepared the divorce papers and sent it to Hasheem for his signature.

“I’m glad divorce is permissible in Islam,” she uttered. “I’m at peace now. I don’t want to be single forever. I want to have my own family, a husband who has something in common with me. That way we have something to talk about. The important thing is, I should like him. The problem was in the beginning, my family didn’t ask me if I liked him. They didn’t give us the chance to check each other out, if we got along well or not, before plunging into something serious. They wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to talk to them.”

The stories of Samee and Alexa show that marriages can either succeed or fail just like those that are not parentally set up. This will largely depend on the couple. Once they agree to enter this sacred union, it is up to them to make it a happy and a healthy one instead of the opposite. The “for better or for worse, till death do us part” thing becomes a lifetime mission.

We Maranaos may find it hard to forget this tradition for it is a part of our culture but lately, some parents seek their children’s approval first before they are paired off. They also make sure their sons-in-law can financially and emotionally support their daughters fully well.

The romantic in me prays for the day when forced unions are gone forever and people marry primarily for love. After all, Islam acknowledges that love should be one of the major reasons for settling down.

As I write this article, I recall my late father telling me, “For a couple to grow old together, they have to make their marriage not people-centered nor world-centered but God-centered. Without God, their union will be doomed.”

Oftentimes, we either complicate things or we consciously or subconsciously ignore the simple ingredients to a happy and lasting marriage, which are love, respect, trust and prayers. Equipped with these, I am pretty sure couples can easily brave whatever storm comes their way. 