My Big Fat Afghan Wedding

This slice of Afghan culture was filed by CBS News Kabul correspondent Mandy Clark. To read more from Mandy in World Watch, click here.

In the Dari language, kam-kam means "a little," but don't bother saying that to an Afghan beautician. There's no such thing as subtle makeup for an Afghan wedding.

I was at a beauty parlor with the bridal party getting ready for my colleague Mukhtar's wedding. With my head tilted back, the layers of eye makeup went on: white, then pink, then blue, then purple, then a ton of black eyeliner, but it was only as the false eyelashes were glued that I knew my request for "just a touch" of makeup had fallen on deaf ears.

When I sat back up and looked in the mirror, all the ladies clapped. "Like doll," lauded one woman. A doll that might scare children, perhaps. (Above, the before and after photos.)

This was my first time attending an Afghan wedding, and it was unlike any other I've experienced.

Upon arriving at the flashing neon wedding hall, women headed to the ladies' side and men to the men's side. A wall separated us. Some of my closest friends were there, colleagues I work with every day, but I couldn't see or speak to them for the duration of the wedding -- they're men.

My colleague Fazul picked out my sparkly Afghan wedding outfit, complete with bangles. I worried I might stand out. I was very wrong. All the women wore fantastically bright, shiny and occasionally outrageous outfits.

Proving my theory that women dress for women, not for men, the ladies changed outfits every hour or so. Every time, it was another magnificently elaborate outfit, which was followed by the clucking of women complementing every last detail, right down to the sequins on their shoes.

It was a good thing there were so many outfit changes; at least the women were kept entertained while, on the men's side, the Mullah, Mukhtar's family and his in-laws were busy with the traditional bargaining for the bride. (At left, Mukhtar at the head of the negotiating table, flanked by the local Mullah, at right, and a family member.)

This may sound odd to Westerners, but it's a way for the bride's family to protect her in case the couple separates -- she gets the house, gold and cash.

Once agreed, the wedding could start in earnest with the religious ceremony, called the Nikah. On the women's side, we saw none of this. It all happens in a room on the men's side.

By this time, the Afghan women had given up on me as I only speak rudimentary Dari, and none of them spoke English. However, I was graciously adopted by a group of children who were trying to hold my hand and sit on me. As the only foreigner at the wedding, I was a novelty. Cue smiling for their camera phones for the next hour.

Finally, at 10 p.m., it was time to feast. Due to my failure to eat lunch, I dived right in. Like any good wedding, there was a lot of food: rice, spinach, Afghan dumplings, lamb kebab, leg of lamb, chicken curry, beef, (Note: Afghans love meat) and an extremely sweet yogurt for dessert.

Then the bride and groom came to the ladies side to celebrate. That's where we ladies have the advantage; we get to see the bride. Other than the groom, the men in attendance never do.

NOTE: You may notice that very few of my pictures show Afghan women at the wedding. This is due to the fact that, as men and women were separated, the ladies were not wearing the traditional Muslim veil, and thus not deemed appropriate viewing material for men-folk. A shame for you all because the bride was a beauty.

The bride's sisters danced in fabulous liquid gold outfits for the newlywed couple, and then other women joined in. The couple watched from their thrones perched atop a stage. It reminded me of a king's court, where royal couples are entertained by elaborate performances. (At left, Mukhtar is carried on a "throne" during the wedding ceremony.)

Then, to my horror, I was accosted by two of Mukhtar's aunties. They dragged me onto the floor and insisted I dance for the couple. Everyone else cleared off, so it was just me and the Afghan music. I would love to be able to tell you that I'm a naturally talented dancer, but that would be a lie.

I flailed around for a bit, making a mental note to force Mukhtar to do some overtime as payback, until others took pity and joined me on the dance floor.

Then it was time to go. The couple went together for the first time to Mukhtar's home, as husband and wife. I headed back to my place, looking for a sandblaster to remove the makeup.