I’ve been living in Saudi Arabia for two months now and
still cannot decide how I feel about the requirement by law to wear an Abaya,
the black cloak that conceals my body, except my head, hands, and feet, from
male onlookers. And it’s not the rules,
per say, that are an issue. I have no
problem respecting the laws, religion, and culture of the country that I am a
guest in. It’s the various factors that
make wearing an abaya a big fat pain in the rear “awrah” (translation: intimate
parts). That being said, there are also
some definite up-sides to having just one thing to wear when going out in
public.
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| http://thestygianport.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-dinner-with-celtic-rebel-part-3.html |
So, what is this abaya I speak of? Basically, it’s a big black cloak with arms
that is so anti-revealing that I’m sure every teenage daughter’s father wishes
it was a requirement in their country.
Believe me, there is absolutely nothing flattering about an abaya. Especially when you have a small head and a
long neck like me. I look like “Harry
the Hunter,” the tiny-headed character on Beetlejuice, when I wear mine.
According to Wikipedia,
the rationale of all this covering up comes from the Qur'an and Hadith.
It was known that the wives of the Prophet Muhammad covered themselves around men they did not
know.
Often the Quranic quote, "O Prophet, tell your wives and daughters, and
the believing women, to cover themselves with a loose garment. They will thus
be recognized and no harm will come to them" (Qur'an 33:59)
Part of the “cover-up” requirement in Saudi Arabia is also
for women to cover their hair (p.s. It is not a requirement for Saudi women to cover their face. This is something they choose to do.), although this doesn’t seem to be as much of a
rule for non-muslim women. We tend to
not wear a scarf unless the muttawa (religious police) are around. In fact, since I’ve been here, I’ve only felt
the need to wear my head-scarf once.
This was when I went on a jaunt around the downtown of Riyadh with my
friends. There were no muttawa around,
but men aren’t used to seeing women who are not completely covered. Since we were in such a very public space we
thought it best to play it safe. Plus,
for me, it’s just plain fun to get in the spirit of the place. How often do I get to immerse myself in
someone else’s culture for any length of time?
And the option of dressing up like a Muslim woman for Halloween just
seems disrespectful to me.
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| Joking around on Olaya Street with my abaya and headscarf. |
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| Being a westerner and getting away with not covering my hair while at a mall |
From the beginning of my Saudi Arabian adventure, the Abaya
presented as a bit of a problem. I was
going to have to wear one coming off of the plane. So, where the crap do I get an abaya in
Canada? Alternatively, I could’ve worn a
long jacket and loose pants upon arrival and bought an abaya as soon as
possible, but I was already so overpacked that I didn’t want to have to try to
fit a coat that I’d never wear again into my carry-on luggage. Luckily, during my Christmas visit in Ottawa
to see my lovely Malgosia, her awesome roommate, Christina, remembered passing
by a Muslim clothing store at one time.
We looked it up and, low and behold, I had found the answer to my abaya
problem. Off we went to find and
purchase the most unflattering piece of apparel that would ever grace my
body. And believe me, I had worn many
unflattering pieces of clothing in the past. I did grow up in the era of
hyper-colour shirts and wearing clothes backwards after all.
So, now I’m in Saudi Arabia and have my ugly abaya that I
thought, to my chagrin, I’d have to wear every time I left my compound or was
not in the confines of my workplace.
This is in fact the case but, as it turns out, the majority of my time
is not spent outside of these places.
And, since my driver comes into the compound to pick me up, I don’t even
need to wear my abaya on my way to the car.
This is great! Except, it makes
remembering to wear my abaya a surprisingly difficult task when I actually am
heading out into the public realm. Every
time that I’ve gotten ready to go on a shopping outing or to a restaurant I
have actively stood in front of my closet and contemplated what I will wear for
a good five minutes before realizing that it doesn’t matter what I wear. I could, in fact, wear my bra and underwear
under my abaya and nobody would know.
From what I’ve heard, many women actually do this, especially during the
extremely hot summers here.
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| "Have a Namaste" from blendapparel.com |
There is a convenience factor to wearing an abaya, as my
lack of need to worry about what I will wear can attest to. However, I'm not hot on the lack of individuality
that it creates. I’m not typically one
to use my clothing to express my personality to any great degree. I do, however, really enjoy wearing fun
t-shirts from cool shops (shout out to threadless.com and blendapparel.com) and
now I don’t get to do this as often as I’d like. And abayas involve a very large amount of material to deal
with. They’re long and annoying when
going up and down stairs and a huge worry of mine when I’m stepping on to and
off of an escalator. But, the most
annoying part of wearing an abaya is the bathroom factor.
Oh how I’ve cursed my abaya when nature calls. This was especially the case recently when I
was getting my health check-up for my iqama (Saudi Arabian identification
card). I was required to give a urine
sample. No biggie in any other
environment. But, being in a sketchy
clinic with a not-so-clean-super-tiny bathroom stall with no actual toilet seat
on the toilet, getting a urine sample with oodles of black material draping
from my shoulders to my legs was a serious challenge. There were no hooks to hang my abaya on if I
took it off. I certainly did not want to
put it on the wet and dirty floor. Somehow
I had to manage lifting and holding my abaya up whilst hovering over the
seatless toilet, holding the sample cup in a way to get a proper sample without
‘soiling’ my hands, avoid having my abaya drop into the toilet water, and
actually see what I was doing with said sample cup while wads of black material
blocked my view. Picture the photos
you’ve seen of brides adorably and humourously maneuvering in a bathroom stall
with their bridesmaids holding mounds of white satin and lace out of the
way. Except the material was black, I
had no one to help me hold it out of the way, and you can rest assured that
there was nothing adorable about it. The
situation, however, was definitely humourous.
Getting back to the lack of individuality factor of wearing
an abaya, I am actually kind of lying.
As my cousin, Jennifer, has told me, “necessity breeds invention,” and
my how the ladies of Saudi Arabia are inventive. Yes, black is the primary colour of an abaya,
but there’s nothing stopping the ladies from adding a good bling factor to
it. Sometimes it can get a little
extravagant and it has been fun for me to see what some of the women end up
choosing to spice things up. It got me
thinking about what I would do if I was to get my own abaya made. And then, one of the loveliest girls in
Riyadh, my friend Munira, helped me experience this very thing. Munira took me to an abaya shop that she and
her family had been going to for the last 20 years. It didn’t take long before I was being draped
in black and getting measured for my very own custom abaya. I was encouraged to walk amongst the shop and
look at all the different styles of abayas and the various embroideries and
glittery embellishments that I could choose to add to my very own abaya.
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| http://americanbedu.com/2013/01/21/saudi-arabia-abaya-wedding-etiquette/ |
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| The starting point of my soon-to-be-custom-made abaya |
There were large glittering orange suns
gracing the front of one, flowing sleeves with flowery black lace streaming
from the cuffs on another, empire waists, pleated skirts, embroidered designs
on the backs and the hems, beautiful bright colours peaking out from the linings
and along the collars. It was a paradise
of semi-subtle attire enhancement. It
was exciting and empowering to be able to choose a little from column A, and a
little from column B. There was so much
to choose from that I decided one abaya was not going to be enough. I wanted bling for my nights out. I wanted simple bits of embroidered individuality
for those times that I was in public while working and needed a professional
yet functional abaya that suited working with a child. Oh my, this was beginning to be an expensive
venture. I decided, finally, on an abaya
that had a little bit of bling and a whole lot of simple style. Not as functional as it should be to work
with a child as I chose long draping sleeves, but no matter. I don’t go outside of my workplace walls very
often. The store clerk was amazing and
talked at length with Munira as she translated my polite English demands into
Arabic. He scribbled all of my specifics
onto a sheet for the tailor to use as his recipe to create my first authentic
piece of Saudi life. I gave him my
payment and he assured me, via Munira’s translation, that it would be completed
in five days. I clapped my hands in
excitement and practically skipped out of the store with Munira giggling as she
walked behind me. And, right on time, my very own abaya made it to it's new home on the day I was to attend an Embassy of France party. I felt like a Saudi queen walking along the streets of the Diplomatic Quarter (where all the embassies are located) wearing it.
In Joy,
Bonnie
