Saudi Female Wardrobe: a tutorial

One of the first questions people asked me after they found out I was moving to Saudi Arabia was, "Are you going to have to wear the...you know...thing." Usually while pantomiming circles around their heads.

My answer was yes, and that generally elicited a few guffaws.

Most people back home just call the entire black get-up the "burka." But if you were to tell a woman who wears the hijab that you admire her burka, she's going to laugh at you and possibly get a little offended. Allow me to school you on the wardrobe of the Saudi woman.

This is a hijab (pronounced "hih-job"...or habab if you're my friend Kimmie)

(although Laura Bush is wearing it like a Kuwaiti in this picture. Saudis don't show any hair.)

In Saudi Arabia, 99% of the hijabs you see are black. Some will be mostly black with a little embroidery around the corners for decoration. You rarely see any other color as the dominate hue on the hijabs. I'm not sure why that is, because in other places in the Middle East, you see colorful fabrics and patterns.

Like this. I think this is perfectly lovely, but it's not acceptable in Saudi Arabia

The hijab shows your face, and depending on which region you're from, you can show a little hair. The looser your hijab is, the less conservative you are. If you're a Saudi woman, your hijab will be on and be on properly.

Some women don't wear the hijab. Note: when I say "wear the hijab" I mean all the time. ALL Muslim women in Saudi Arabia wear at least the hijab when they're out in public. But when a woman says she "wears the hijab," that means she wears it all the time, whether she is with women, men, or mixed company...for the most part. I work with a woman who "wears the hijab," but she doesn't wear it at school. However, if we take a photograph of her, she will stop us until she has put her hijab on. It's complicated, and I've not explained all the ins and outs, but I'll move on.

Most Saudi women also wear the niqab in addition to the hijab.

This is a niqab. (pronounced "nee-cob")

Note: I did not take any of the pictures posted. They were already on the internet, so I haven't invaded anyone's privacy.

What most people in the West would probably call the "burka" is actually the niqab. The niqab goes on top (or in front of, I guess) the hijab. It kind of looks like a bandana with a slit cut in it and straps attached so it can be tied to your head. So when the ladies are suiting up to leave school for the day, they put on their hijabs, and then tie the niqab on. Some will even put gloves on their hands as further coverage.

Generally, the wider the opening of your niqab, the less conservative a woman is, but let me be clear: women who wear the niqab are greatly respected here. I kind of equate it with a vegan among vegetarians. Vegetarians already live a different lifestyle. But when a vegetarian finds out a person is vegan, they often respond with, "Wow! How do you discipline yourself like that? I couldn't do it." That's how women are here. The women I have talked to who wear the niqab don't feel like it is demeaning or disparaging. They feel like it is their way to show their level of faith and to bring themselves closer to Allah.

This is the abaya (pronounced "uh-bye-uh")

This one is on a mannequin, obviously. It's the closest I could get to the typical abaya you see in KSA

The abaya is the black dress/robe/housecoat that most people assume covers from head to toe. Actually, the hijab combined with the abaya is what most people see. Generally, if a woman wears the abaya, she also wears the hijab, so it's hard to find one without the other.

Around here, though, you see a lot of women only wearing the abaya...but they are "Aramcons." Aramcons are the non-Muslim employees (or the wives of the employees) of Aramco, the Arab American oil company that is based in Dammam. In my experience, Aramcon women have almost a visceral aversion to the abaya and hijab. They seem to resent that they have to cover in this country, so they only do the bare minimum to escape the scrutiny of the mutawa. We often see Aramco women walking around the malls in just their abayas and their heads uncovered. Once I even saw two Aramco women walking completely uncovered!

Whenever the Mister and I go on the Aramco camp, the first thing I'm told when we meet up with our friends is, "You don't have to wear that thing here! Take it off!" Some don't seem to understand when I tell them that I really don't mind wearing it. It gets hot and stuffy sometimes, but it's not a big deal.

Anyway, Muslim women all wear the abaya here. As with the niqab, it seems the less frills and decoration, the more conservative you are. There are some very pretty abayas on the market. They have nice embroidery or cut is flattering. The expensive ones are made of really nice fabrics and they flutter and flow as the women walk past. I think it's quite ethereal.

I'll tell you more about the wardrobe of the women of Arabia in another post, including a video showing you how to tie to hijab. Until then, take a look at this video about why women cover themselves. I didn't find it terribly convincing, but it was interesting nonetheless.

Vicariously yours,

today is november 3rd, 2010. mr. president?

About an hour or so ago, I found out that my 11th grade AP US History teacher died in a car accident. This is the same teacher that taught Amber, Amber's sister, both of my siblings, and literally hundreds of Bruins. She is one of a handful of teachers that inspired me to be a teacher. So as I sit here remembering Mrs. Bayrd, I thought I would share what affected me most from being in her class, and how that translates to where I am now.

Mrs. Bayrd was one of those teachers that never let you just learn about the normal stuff. She always exposed us to things that were important, but not clichéd. Her famous "meat packing plant" unit is the stuff that you dream about as a history teacher: rapt attention from your students as you weave an elaborate story that combines personal experience, historical fact, literary references, and just a dash of macabre humor. I know that my lecture style today has a Mrs. Bayrd side (the rest is equal parts Ms. Simpson and Mr. Faircloth...3rd & 7th grade respectively). I straight up stole the "open festering puss-filled wound" line (a more than accurate description of the sectional conflict that led to the Civil War). I absorbed knowledge in her class, but I also absorbed her spirit for teaching.

At the time, I was just entertained. I honestly don't think I was ready for AP...a lot of it went right over my head. I didn't read like I should have, and I did okay on the AP test. But I know my love for American history was born right there in that classroom to the sound of "Mr. President?" I could listen to her teach for the whole long period on flex Wednesday...and even enjoy it. And that's half the battle right there, isn't it? As a teacher, getting and keeping the students' attention is how you spend 60% of your energy. She won that battle the moment she stepped up to the projector. Every. Day.

But the most important thing that I remember about Mrs. Bayrd was that she wanted us to matter. A lot of teachers try and pull the "Dead Poet's Society" inspirational move...but she never needed to. I always knew that she expected something more of us. Not just because we were in AP, but because we were individuals with gifts. A year or so ago, I went to a session on teaching local history in Franklin, TN and ran into her. It was the first time I had seen her as a colleague. And I'm not gonna lie...I was excited to show off the fact that I was a teacher. I wanted her to be proud of me. She didn't recognize me at first (more facial hair, less acne) but she was excited to hear that I was teaching and she looked proud of me...which is the best complement that a student can ever have. I was doing something that mattered.

Mrs. Bayrd died in a car accident while she was on a road trip through Greece. Amber made the comment that she must have been having the time of her life. I know that she was. It is sad that we won't be able to be at home for any vigils or memorial services, but she would be proud of us for being here. It was a Guam/John conundrum coming here...(but for us more like Saudi/friends & family) and I know that she would approve of our choice to go on an adventure. We're living our lives to the absolute fullest, and she was the champion of that.

Mrs. Bayrd meant so much to so many students that it would be foolish of me to try and cover every "Bayrdism" or say exactly what she means to her students. I can't really even say all of the ways that she has affected me.

All I can really say is thanks.

Mrs. Bayrd. I'm gonna miss you.

Vicariously Yours,

Say what now?!

We have some interesting characters in the house with us. Living upstairs, we have two lonely, single men. Well, lonely isn't the right word because it makes them sound desperate...but you can definitely tell that neither of them have seen or talked to an unmarried woman since he arrived in the country.

The other night, I mentioned to them that I had invited a co-worker of mine to dinner at the house. She had just arrived from Canada and I thought she would enjoy a little camaraderie.

"Really?" one of the guys said, "...is she married?"

I chuckled a little bit and said that she wasn't. Both stayed quiet for a little while. After about ten minutes, one of them, we'll call him "Michael," said, "Wouldn't it be funny if we went home and studied up on Canada to impress her with our knowledge of her home?"

We all laughed. I thought it was so funny that he had been thinking about her visit this whole time.

The other single fella, we'll call him "Neil," laughed and began a hypothetical conversation with my female colleague, who wasn't in the room.

"So," he said, "that election of 1873. It was crazy, wasn't it?"

Everyone in the room thought this was hilarious and we all started chiming in with hypothetical cheesy pick-up lines related to the US's northern neighbor. The men were rapid-firing with the jokes and we were all having a great laugh.

Keep in mind that our Thai house mate was also with us, and she doesn't speak much English. She was barely keeping up with our normal conversation, but she was being a good sport and laughing along at all the fake flirtation, even though she didn't really understand what was being said.

After a minute or so, Neil says in a lusty voice--still to my colleague who is not in the room--"So, ever been to Regina?" which is said with a long "i." It's a city in Alberta. It mean "queen" in Latin. It rhymes with a certain...female body part.

"...what did you say?!" the petite voice of our innocent Thai neighbor half whispered.

To borrow a phrase from my mother-in-law, we all died laughing! The expression on her face was so funny, and once we all realized what she thought Neil had said, it was even more hilarious.

I am definitely so thankful to have such good-humored and fun people around us all the time. It's nights like that one that have certainly made this move considerably more fun.

Vicariously yours,

i have no idea what time, day, or year it is.

There have been a lot of changes in a short amount of time for us here in Saudi. We've written about a lot of them: religious environment, cultural quirks, etc. But one of the things that's giving me a lot of trouble recently is the change in schedule. You may think that this is a minor issue, but when things get turned around like they are here (in comparison to our normal American style schedule) you get a little lost.

As you may or may not be aware, the work week in Saudi Arabia begins on Saturday and runs to Wednesday. That means that our weekend is Thursday and Friday. Now that sounds simple enough, but think about this. My entire life, I have understood what happens on the weekend sounds roughly like this: sleep in Saturday as late as possible, football in the afternoon, maybe do something that night...wake up Sunday, go to church (most of the time), eat lunch, football/golf (depending on whose house and when...I'm lookin' at you, Dad), and then frantically work on things for school the next day. In Saudi, things don't quite work that way. Everything is pushed to Thursday and Friday. However, one of the things that doesn't change is the football. College football games are still on Saturday and pro football games are still on Sunday and Monday. This means I'm getting football scores and updates on workdays. I hadn't realized it until I got here, but I've been using this as my signal for the weekend for awhile so I'm confused when I'm working and wondering if my fantasy team is doing okay...or if Auburn lost...it's hard. More importantly, I have to wait until Saturday and Sunday to talk to my family or anyone in the US. This is because of my next point...

We are EIGHT hours ahead of Nashville, TN. That means as I type this, it's 7:23 pm on Sunday night in Dammam, but it's 11:23 am in Nashville. So I end up getting the scores, news, and things that are happening in the states the day after. This becomes confusing when say--I don't know--trying to talk to your grandmother on her birthday around 9 pm her time. That means you have to be up at 5 am to talk. Realistically the only time I could talk to my family and friends on skype or gchat would be during their weekend...but my "Monday" and "Tuesday"...Saturday and Sunday...SEE?! I told you it's confusing!

Another thing that you need to be aware of is that there is an Islamic calendar called the Hijri and people follow it. Some follow it so closely that some of my kids don't know in what year they were born off the top of their heads, and you have to specify "yeah, in the Gregorian calendar" when talking about history. Their calendar is based off the fleeing of the Prophet Mohammed from Mecca to Medina. This was called the Hijra, so the calendar is called the Hijri, and all of the dates are "after hijra" or A.H. So, 1776 AD was the signing of the Declaration of Independence...but it was only 1189 AH according to the Hijri (Until December 7, we are in the year 1431 AH...in case you were wondering...impress your friends...). As a history teacher I find this particularly interesting, but one more thing to trip my students up as we learn. The good news is this really only applies to the Middle Ages & late antiquity (Ancient Rome). <----yeah I totally just nerded out on you there...sorry, comes with the territory.

Tie this all together with the daily schedule that people keep here in Saudi: We start school absurdly early, so most people (ok, everybody) take a nap in the afternoon. I normally don't like sleeping this much because I would rather be doing something but, stores are pretty much closed until at least 4...so when in Rome... I won't lie, it has been nice. I don't have to tell you how much Amber loves naps. Additionally, the afternoon nap combined with the late start of businesses means everything is open late; at least until 10 pm and most of the restaurants/schwarma places are open 24 hours. This means that a lot plans involve late nights...even on school nights!

All of this leaves me with an incredible sense of chronological vertigo. I call days the wrong names. I sometimes wake up really excited for the Bama game on Saturday and realize that I have to wait until Sunday to find out what happened. In planning to talk to my grandma on her birthday, we needed to be talking to her at 9pm her time...Amber accidentally counted backwards and almost had us planning to talk with Granny and the rest of the family at 1 pm our time...which would have been 5 am their time...not the plan.

It's been crazy to get used to and honestly, I don't think that I am. At least I know when I'm supposed to be at work, but even this afternoon I took an hour long nap and woke up at 5 thinking that I had slept all through the night to the next day. This is actually what ended up prompting this post. Hopefully I'll have my internal clock set correctly soon...erratic does not even come close to describing my sleeping pattern.

Vicariously yours,

i have a come to Allah meeting

So, an interesting thing happened to me a few nights ago. I was invited to a panel discussion about the perception of Islam in non-Arab countries. The American teachers in the secondary school were invited to take part because...we're the only non-Arabs on staff. Since it seemed like something that would be a great experience for cross-cultural learning, those of us that were invited decided we would all go. They had also invited a couple of people from the Islamic Center in Dammam that were Filipino, I assume to try and get more than just the American view of Islam...you know, stress the non-Arab part of the function. It was going to be a very interesting night and I was actually pretty excited about the experience.

And it started off promisingly enough...a couple of teachers introduced the evening and welcomed everybody in, and then the mic was handed to one of the students. He addressed his first question to the Filipinos: "So how did you find out about Islam?" This is when we find out that the Filipino gentlemen were mostly new converts...from Christianity. One of them was a former priest and he proceeded to explain how he realized that Christianity wasn't for him.

During the former priest's testimony (that really is the only way to describe it) I started to feel resentful. I resented the fact that I was basically tricked into an evangelistic pitch meeting. I resented that there was no mention of the perception of Islam in other countries, just the ways that Christianity is wrong. Don't get me wrong, they were all very friendly. They even offered to answer any questions we might have about Islam. They were talking to the room, of course...but looking straight at me.

I was put out. Annoyed. I considered walking out a couple of times. Not because I didn't like what they had to say, but because I felt like I had been lured there under false pretenses. I began to feel more and more defensive as the other speakers went on.

The father of one of my students came up to me after the "discussion" and gave me a pen with information about Islam on it. He called it a "magic pen"... you might say he was the Islamic equivalent of a Gideon. The pen had a scroll inside with websites with information about Islam.

Needless to say, I was upset by the time I got home. But I've thought a lot about it and I've come to a few conclusions.

First of all, this is literally the reason we came to Saudi Arabia. Not to convert to Islam, obviously, but to find out about other people's perspectives; to finally be in a minority and see what it feels like. I certainly was put in a position I'd really never been in before. So I can complain about it, or I can learn from it...and that is why we're here.

Second, this is no different than what would happen to anyone who's not a Christian back at home. Whether it's at work, school, or even in sports Christians take every opportunity they can to share their faith. From holiday programming to prayers before football games, Christianity is everywhere. Now that I've been on the other side of tracts, I can see how uncomfortable and even intrusive it can be. I'd never really thought about it until it was happening to me. Non-Christians are inundated with Christianity everyday in America, but in Saudi Arabia, the non-Muslims are inundated with Islam. I can actually sense your eyes rolling as I write this...but wait for the third point.

Third, and most importantly, I'm not at home. Saudi Arabia is a country that is ruled by sharia law and the king is the "custodian of the two holy mosques". You cannot separate Islam from Saudi. I don't think that expressing the religious views of the majority should be taboo. Just like Christians expressing their faith in America because they are in the majority. I live in an Islamic nation. I respect that.

In the end, I don't think that they set up the evening for the explicit purpose of converting the heathens. I think they really did want to talk about the issue of perception in non-Arab countries. I'm glad that I went. To hear the things that Muslims...especially Muslims that were once Christians...think about Christianity is fascinating. It's never a bad thing to get humbled every once in awhile. Ultimately, I'm not resentful about the experience...I actually think I learned from it.

Vicariously yours,

These photos are unrelated

I am having so many experiences, and as they're happening I think to myself, "I've got to remember to blog about this." But of course now that I have time to sit down and write a post, my mind draws a blank!

So I'll share some random photos.

This is the Mister standing next to the gate that leads to our door. This is not the same gate you see in the video I posted earlier. There are three gates to our house, and only two are on the street. The third one is directly outside our door, and it leads to a litter-ridden sand pit.

This is what our house looks like from the street. The gate on the right is the gate from the photo above. The gate on the left is the one right outside our front door. There's a third gate just to the right of the car. All the houses have walls and gates like this. It really makes stories like Aladdin seem more understandable. I always thought it was so unfair that Jasmine had to live behind a wall like that, but now I see that all Arabs do!

This was taken the first night we moved in to the apartment. When we arrived, the apartment wasn't *really* completely ready, but I had begged enough that they finally just said, "Fine, move in, but you're gonna have to rough it for a bit." We had basic furniture and some linens, but we had no bed sheets, and this is the only pillow they provided us! The picture doesn't do justice to how tiny it looked in comparison to the big, king size bed.

These are my Frosted Flakes (they're called Frosties here). They're in English, Greek (I think), and Arabic. I chuckle to myself every morning trying to say "tpp-pp-omepa."

Vicariously yours,

My First Saudi Field Trip

"Does anybody want to go to the art exhibit this afternoon?" my supervisor asked as she entered the English cluster. I like art. I'd like to go to an exhibit.

"What do you mean 'go to the art exhibit'?" I asked with hesitation.

The art club was using its club time to visit an art exhibit at the Holiday Inn a few minutes away from the school. They needed some extra chaperones to go as "crowd control."

Sounded easy enough. Anyone who has worked with me in Nashville knows that I've chaperoned my fair share of field trips. And as a bonus, I wasn't in charge of this one, just "crowd controlling."

So clubs time rolls around and I'm waiting at the gate for the girls to arrive. The teachers who are in charge of the henna club and art club are waiting as well. I figure since it's their clubs that are going, they are in charge. I then find out that the drama club and photoshop club are going with us as well. As the girls pour down the hallway toward us, the clubs supervisor is among them, swamped with girls all speaking loudly at the same time. She looks slightly panicked. As she stops in front of me, she announces with a thick Arabic accent, "Drama ees wif Meesus Ayful!"

I'm thinking to myself, "This Ms. Ayful lady better show up soon. We're loading the buses."

The din of the girls declaring that they do have permission to go on this trip is almost deafening. More drama club girls have arrived and they need to know which teacher to check in with.

"Drama ees wif Meesus Ayful!" declares the clubs supervisor again. The girls look around in confusion, and I join them in craning my neck looking for the tardy "Meesus Ayful."

Apparently some girls ask "Who?" in Arabic and the clubs supervisor--who is losing her patience very quickly-- declares again, "MEESUS AYFUL! DRAMA EES WIF MEESUS AYFUL!" and she points directly at me.

"ME?!" I ask, also pointing squarely at my chest!

"Yes. Meesus Ayful."

Apparently "Echols" sounds like "Ayful" to my Arabic colleagues, and she hasn't taken the time to clarify. She's got a field trip to not go on. She's leaving that to Meesus Ayful.

h'oh boy.

That was the beginning of the longest 55 minute field trip I have ever gone on in my life.

Vicariously yours,

p.s. My favorite quote from this field trip: "Teacherteacher! Can we take pictures?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Oh, but teacher we don't have cameras."

"...well I guess that solves that problem, doesn't it!?"