A buyin' my abaya

Check out my 8 dollar blingy sunglasses to go with my hijab. Dubai - look out!

A few weeks ago, the time had come that I needed to buy myself an abaya. When I say I ‘needed to’, this actually means that I wanted to get one. You don’t HAVE to wear an abaya off camp. BUT, you do have to wear clothes with no shape. Long sleeves, baggy tops that cover your elbows and go past your waist. A skirt with no shape, covering your ankles, is best on the bottom. Although, pants that are baggy and shapeless are acceptable as well. Only Muslim women HAVE to cover their heads. Western women are not required to do this. And in fact, in general, no one will say anything about it. There are religious police who wander about looking for people breaking the “law.” These people are not hired by the government, apparently. They are just fundamentalists who feel it is their job. And if you are just ducking into a store real quick, you’re usually fine. I hear they hang out at the malls.

These people can try to take you to jail, if they feel you are breaking the law. You don’t have to go with them, as I understand it. Quite honestly, I don’t want to find out. We’ve also been told, that if someone confronts me, that it’s better for Peter to just walk away. To pretend he doesn’t know me. You see, I’m a woman, and they shouldn’t be talking to me anyway. So the recommendation I’ve received is to tell them just that. “You have NO right to be speaking to me!” It is technically a sin/illegal(?) to speak to a woman unless she speaks to you first.

So the whole time my family and I are out shopping, I am the ONLY woman wearing no abaya. And let me tell you, some of the people here could be professional stare-ers. Really. The men especially. They could stare down a volcano. (NO idea what that meant, just sayin..) Anyway, I got a lot of looks, most just stares, but some of disgust. There were other western women out and about, but they were all wearing their abayas. I didn’t like not wearing one. Peter much prefers me to not wear one. I think it makes him feel like, ‘hey, I love my wife. I let her wear what she wants.’ Because, again, you don’t have to wear a big black abaya, you just have to be modest to their specifications.

Quick! No one's looking. Try it on.

I went shopping another time with a woman, and she too, didn’t wear the abaya. She’s lived here more than 20 years and says she refuses to wear one. No one bothered us, but I still feel scared without one. I am more of the ‘when in Rome’ kind of person. I’d prefer, in this situation, to just blend in. Don’t rock the boat. Know what I mean? And Peter prefers more the thinking of, ‘if we don’t do something about it, who will? Let’s show them it’s okay.’ Which I admire, I just don’t want to be taken to jail for it. Call me crazy.

This store had a lot of "fancy" dresses. I laughed so hard when I saw them. Roo, of course, adored them. This was her favorite. Hmmm? Fuschia and teal. Nice. (these are seriously the kind of dresses they love here)


Anywho, back to shopping.

Not surprisingly , I had a hard time fitting into one. For one, people here are really short. Like, reaaaallllly short. Second, it’s not America. For the most part, most women here are quite thin. Needless to say, I stick out like a sore thumb. I especially couldn’t fit in the chest area. Something kind of funny you should know here, you cannot try on clothes. You just have to buy them and try them on at home. (This, I think, has something to do with their crazy sanitary issues. The same kind you and I don’t think are very sanitary) And guess what? No returns here either. Not even western stores, like Ikea, would allow you to take something back. Weird, huh? So for everyone that made fun of my crazed shopping in the states before we left, it was for good reason.

Well, my first abaya attempt was a failure. I did help myself to trying on clothes on top of my clothes. I mean, if I can do it at wal-mart, why not the pretend wal-mart here? No one was around, so I helped myself. And Peter felt free to do a photo shoot. Nice, huh?

The next week I went shopping with my friend, and I found the one I bought. Our driver said he knew a place with a good price. It ended up costing 30.00, which was fine with me. After driving through the very typical crazy traffic here, we jumped out of the car and walked into this tiny shop on a crummy street, with cars everywhere, a very dirty sidewalk, and row after row of similar shops. They put similar shops together all over the city. I have no idea why. But you can find 6 paint stores all in a row, and half will have the same name: “paint store.” Anyway, this was on ‘women’s street.’ This means that things women are interested in, are located in this area. ‘Men’s street ‘ has things like electronics and what not.

Anyway, the guy running the store was a young, hip, middle easterner. Shnazzy jeans, cell phone in hand, cool. I told him I needed an abaya – the ONLY thing this store sells, BTW. He looks me up and down, and, making his arms arch into a big round circle, says, “You need BIG, yes?” in broken English. HUUUURUUUMPH!

I will not get offended at that remark, I say to myself. I need one of these, and I need it now. He pulls one off the rack. I put it on and it fit; one hundred percent – perfect! How could I get mad at a guy who knows his trade. (as weird as his trade may be)So I got the matching hijab, paid the man my money, and am now a proud owner of a big, black tent. (and as you can tell by the photo; yes, I need BIG. I’m nursing, alright? And I really like chocolate. And candy. And homemade bread with butter and jam…

Roo took the photo. Alright? Although, really? Is there anything flattering about this outfit?