In February, after the American's talk of "selling" Irad, an uncle at a toi told the room: "For the bride we ask a good price, but we do not sell the country." Somebody laughed, somebody did not. I stood with the microphone and for a second I did not know where to look.
Then I said "To the bride, who is not for sale, and to the land, which is not for sale either," and the sözchü cried "Baarakelde!" Done. A host has one job in these moments: to give people a sentence they can drink to.
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