Woman Who Fell From the Sky - Jennifer Steil [7]
“The women in Yemen do not wear burqas,” I said. This much I had learned. When westerners think of burqas, they generally envision the Afghan burqa, which is a one-piece garment that covers the entire body and has a grille over the face so the woman can peer out. Here, women instead wear a black abaya or balto. An abaya is a wider, fuller garment that is pulled on over the head, whereas the narrower balto has buttons down the front. Both garments are worn over clothing, like raincoats, and do not cover the head. Underneath, almost every Yemeni woman I would meet wore Western-style jeans and T-shirts.
In addition to these robes, almost all women wear a black headscarf called a hijab over their hair and a swath of black fabric called a niqab, which reveals just the eyes, over their faces. All of these terms—abaya, niqab, hijab, burqa—have shifting definitions depending on what country you’re in. Some Muslims use the word abaya to mean a garment that includes the head covering, so that it is nearly interchangeable with the Iranian chador. And a niqab is also referred to as a kheemaar.
None of these garments is required by law in Yemen, which is one of the more (officially, anyway) liberal Muslim countries when it comes to the covering of women. Nor is the veiling of women mandated by the Holy Qur’an. Yet the social pressures to veil oneself are enormous. A Yemeni woman daring to venture out without cover is often harassed by men, who order her to cover herself, call her a shameful whore, and worse. Like many practices in Yemen, it is a cultural tradition dating back centuries rather than a religious rule. But the roles of culture and religion are often confused, by outsiders and Yemenis alike.
The tradition of veiling can be traced back to the Hadith of Sahih Bukhari. The Hadith is a document that contains the teachings of the prophet Mohammed, and Bukhari’s interpretation is often considered the standard, although there are several others.
According to the Hadith, “My Lord agreed with me (‘Umar) in three things … And as regards the veiling of women, I said ‘O Allah’s Apostle! I wish you ordered your wives to cover themselves from the men because good and bad ones talk to them.’ So the verse of the veiling of the women was revealed” (Hadith, verse 1, book 8, sunnah 395).
Like many westerners, before I came to Yemen, I thought of the veil as an oppressive practice that kept women from being who they are. But the women I would meet in Yemen often told me the opposite was true. These women consider their coverings a statement of identity, an important defense against men, and a source of freedom.
The hijab is not to keep women from looking too alluring, one woman told me. “It is because I respect myself. And when the beauty is hidden, the more important things rise to the surface.”
My initial reason for covering my head was simple: I wanted to fit in. I stood out enough, with my blue eyes and pale skin, and it didn’t seem wise to call even more attention to myself by allowing my waist-length hair to fly about unfettered. I also wanted to demonstrate respect for my host culture, and the head scarf was a way of broadcasting that I knew how things were done here and that I was happy to play by the rules.
So I had arrived with a suitcase full of long black skirts, long black Indian blouses, and a black head scarf. My friend Nick coached me through these purchases, as I have a morbid fear of shopping. The head scarf we bought had actually been a dressing-room door in a small boutique, and Nick had talked the owner into selling it to me for $10. “It’ll be just perfect,” she said, holding up the length of dusty black cotton. “Once it’s cleaned.”
But while I planned to cover my head when I left the safety of Sabri’s house, I had never considered covering my face. To have cloth over my nose and mouth gives me an intense feeling of claustrophobia. The