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Published: November 19th 2012
We had just returned from the rooftop pool. I threw my robe to the floor and collapsed onto the billowy white bed. I lie there in my shiny green bikini feeling so refreshed and comfortable. Then there was a pounding on the door. Having learned a thing or two about Middle Eastern modesty, I had the fleeting thought that I should probably cover myself before answering the door. Jeremy was too quick though. He swung the door open and was greeted by a 40-something, shy, Muslim hotel employee who announced, “Good evening, sir. I am here for your turn down service.”
The man stepped inside, saw me lying scantily clad in bed and panicked.
He put his eyes to the floor and said, “Oh sir, I am sorry. I am so sorry. I leave you.”
“No! Its fine!” Jeremy reassured. “Come on in!”
The man seemed to stop breathing, stammered around and turned to make a quick exit from our room.
“Don't leave!” I shouted as I sprang from the bed.
The man looked up at me, immediately put his eyes back to the floor and made a break for the door.
I ran
after him. “Don't run away!” I ordered. “Its ok! I'm NOT naked!”
“Andrea! Stop chasing him! You're making it worse!” Jeremy scolded.
Shocked, embarrassed and now completely confused as to why this woman in her bathing suit is chasing him through her room, the man slips through my grasp and out the door.
Jeremy just stares at me. “Way to go Andrea. You completely traumatized the poor guy. Who knows what kind of praying that man's gonna have to do now.”
“Oh give me a break,” I told him. “I would
assume that working in a hotel with a
swimming pool, that I'm not the first woman in a bikini he's seen.”
“True, but probably the first to chase him through her room,” Jeremy lamented with a roll of the eyes. “And so much for our turn down service.”
He was right about that. No one returned to put a mint on our pillow for the rest of our stay.
The next morning I left the hotel dressed appropriately conservative with my white linen pants, long sleeved blouse and head scarf.
Everything I read about visiting Egypt in summer warned
of the extreme heat. I told myself I would endure, enjoy and not complain. Its a
dry heat after all. Is it really so bad? In a word. YES. It becomes clear as to why they're always fighting in the Middle East. That kind of heat would make anyone volatile.
Roaming through the dusty Egyptian Museum in Cairo on my second day in town, curiosity once again got the best of me. I was enjoying observing the museum's other patrons as much as the priceless antiquities. Cairo, being in the state of civil unrest as the media portrays, was pretty barren of other tourists. We had the museum to ourselves save for locals and a small German group.
I started to pay more attention to what the Egyptian women were donning. They were beautiful, colorful and really altogether lovely in their layers of vibrant modesty and heavily made-up eyes. You really can't help but notice the striking eyes. What you're NOT noticing are bust-lines and waistlines, stretch marks, cellulite or muffin-tops and I thought to myself, “
what a relief this would be...”
But there was another group of women I couldn't help but stare at. The ones
in all black. All black polyester, head to toe. Many even wore gloves. Only little slits cut out of dark fabric with the whites of their eyes showing. I'd see them cautiously slip a cup of tea under their veil and drink all the while careful not to reveal their lips.
This made me curious. All these women were of the same religion. They all had their hair covered and every bit of skin concealed. So why did some women find it necessary to wear all black, not even showing their face or fingers? I found an unoccupied guide in the museum and put the question to him. His response? “Well, the ones in all black are just..
.very Muslim,” he said. That answer actually made sense to me. Completely.
I approached a woman dressed like this at the Cairo Museum. She was standing in a dimly lit room looking at the treasures recovered from King Tut's tomb while bouncing a lively two year old on her hip.
She was so shy and seemed unsure as to whether she should talk to me. I told her her daughter was beautiful and reached out and touched her curly black
hair. She immediately warmed to me. Her English was limited but I was able to discern she was from Saudi Arabia. I asked her who was allowed to see her face. She said women could see her face but the only men allowed to were her husband, father and brothers. I asked her if she minded this. She said no. Then her husband walked over. She stopped talking.
“I can see where your daughter got all her curly black hair!” I said to him.
He smiled broadly, ran his fingers through his dark waves and introduced himself.
Feeling a bit brave I asked him about his wife having her face covered. “Its so no man look at her,” he tells me. “Her face is only for me.”
“Well how in the world do you recognize anybody?” I asked.
He just laughed. “I am the only man that can see her face and her face is the only one
I see.”
“So, can
I see your wife's face?” I ask cautiously.
The wife looks at her husband hopefully. He grins down at her. “Yes, you can show her your face.”
She lifts her
veil and smiles from ear to ear with downcast eyes.
I grabbed her hand, “Girl! Look at me! You are absolutely beautiful!” This was more compliment than she was expecting I think. Jeremy finally found me and as he approached, she immediately let the veil drop once again over her face.
I introduced Jeremy to the family I had just befriended, gave the wife a big hug which she was entirely unprepared for, and said goodbye.
As we parted ways, I found myself face to face with the German tour group. While dressing appropriately for the climate, the German groups lack of modesty was certainly not appropriate for the culture. I think they had confused Cairo with Cancun. Traipsing through the museum in shorts, halter tops and mini skirts, I felt embarrassed. I wanted to tell the Egyptians, “I promise, not all Westerners are so insensitive to your values...”
I wonder what the Muslim women think when they see us Westerners brazenly baring so much flesh. What do the women who are
very Muslim think? I can only guess. Do they pity us? Do they pray for us? Do they sneer at us?
Or maybe,
just maybe, they chuckle a little.
Who knows, it could be that under all those long black abayas are shiny green bikinis.
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aspiringnomad
Jason
What the eye doesn't see...
It is a shame you didn't have to time to visit hammam whilst in Egypt, that way you could have discovered what was really under those long black abayas... I have it on good authority that shiny green bikinis are definitely at the conservative end of the spectrum;-)