Today I arrived early for my class at the Arabic Islamic institute. When we have spare time, we have a special place to hang out: the "women's floor". So, in through the sheltered women's door down the little garden path and up to the women's floor where we can all sit around a low table, some of us on the chairs and some on the thick, lush Persian carpet. Today the place was already taken- to my surprise there was a whole group of women and children, and all of them Arab. After a while I ventured back down from the school and found that two of my classmates had joined their party. So I sat down on the carpet, curled under my legs, drew my Indian silk scarf closer around my shoulders and arms and was offered some cake on of them had brought. Here they all were, some with their hair completely covered in hijab, some more loosely, all in long sleeves and even one without hijab and in tight Western clothes. And some of them were stunningly beautiful.
"The cake is nice", I said to the one who had brought it and she gave me a brilliant, delighted smile. "My Aunty Norah made it", she said, and pointed at an older woman in black hijab. "My Aunty Norah is my mother's friend, and I have to show respect to all my mother's friends." "And so you call them all Aunty?" I asked. "Yes." "This is like in Turkey where I never know who is really brothers with who", I said and laughed.
I noticed one woman moving among them. Slender, with graceful movements, a delicate body completely covered by a black abaya. But one of the most exquisite abayas I have ever seen. Made of thin black and slightly stiff silk, with the most intricate subtle embroidery, black on black, a veil slung softly over her head and framing her face with beautiful wavy lines down both sides, her curly hair cascading down underneath it. Her face was dramatically beautiful, with large, expressive dark exotic eyes, her brows black perfect arches on her immaculate skin, her lips forming another dramatic red contrast to her light skin and her black hair, her nose a beautifully chiseled curve never seen in a European woman. All I could think was:"You can make her wear all black, you can hide her body under a long loose dress that shows nothing but her hands, so one can barely sense it's lines, you can make her wear a veil, and still her beauty shines radiantly through it all, maybe even more so, because some of it is hidden...."
They gave me a cup of their fragrant Saudi coffee. A hitherto unexperienced taste- coffee without milk but delicately flavoured with cardamom and other spices, a taste I love.
Then the woman in black silk said she had to leave. And started to get dressed for going outside. I watched her in growing amazement. I have seen the final results but I have never before seen one of them while putting this on.
She now put on a cloak, drew a second scarf over her hair, drew it tight around the forehead so the hair disappeared. Then, with quick skilled movements, draped, wrapped and tucked the cloth around her face, her neck, her shoulders until it formed a beautifully folded shape which hid all the skin below her face from view. Then came another black loose hood which she pulled over the other scarf and down her forehead, almost below her eyebrows. And then one more cloth- over her head it went and down her face.The upper edge went under the hood and rested on her nose and now she had completely disappeared- her body, her shoulders, her throat, her hair, her forehead and her face, all invisible under the scarves. And then she left- turned around once more, greeted us, waved and took the elevator. After she was gone, I asked the other women:"But can you see, like this?" "Oh, yes, we can, perfectly" one said, "we don't even feel it!"
Wed, June 30, 2010 - 8:47 AM
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