Buying Makeup

Cousin1: (in the midst of bickering with her uncle's wife) Daisy, is MAC the same as Makeup4Ever?

Daisy: No, there two different companies. MAC is only 3 letter's, M-A-C..nothing else, that's how you can remember the difference.

Uncle's wife: nuh uh, when I went shopping the last time, the guy called it "mac for ever".

Daisy: then then the guy's just dumb...they are two, completely separate companies and their make-up's totally different too. MAC's made in Canada, I used to love their makeup.

Cousin1: I went to that MAC store at Dhahran Mall, they didn't have any Makeup for Ever there, Daisy's right. MAC makeup is fantastic isn't it.

Daisy: I drove 3 hours all the way to Toronto once just to buy MAC lipsticks (as well as to change scenery a bit). They didn't have MAC in the States yet at that time. That's where I got my nose pierced on my 20th birthday (affirmation of my one-time coolness and freedom to up and go to Toronto on a whim, unlike these days when I have to beg and plead just to get to the grocery store). Ah, those were the days, before marriage + kids.

Uncle's wife: I don't like their foundation though. In fact, I don't like most American foundation.

-

Daisy: Don't buy American/western foundation, remember, Americans like the "tanned" look so even the lightest shades won't get you the smooth porcelain look your going for.

Cousin1: Amani just bought 500 riyals of MAC make-up then ended up having to toss it all out. After she got home and put it on, it looked like baby crap had been smeared all over her face and since it had been opened, she couldn't return it. She could only test it on her hand at the store and that's not the same as on her face. Do you remember how a long time ago, the MAC store in Rashid mall used to be closed off and have women employees.

Daisy: Yeah, I remember that. That was ages ago though, 8+years maybe. I was so mad when I went there after they did away with the female employees and there was all men there. The first time I went I took off my veil and tried all the make-up on before I bought it. I mean, look (I held my hand up to my jawline) my hand's a completely different shade from my face. Especially these days since all winter I've been taking Buddy outside to the roof everyday so he doesn't get rickets and now I've gotten a tan mainly on my arms since my face moisturizer has sunscreen in it.

Cousin2: you look good darker.

Daisy: Seriously? (really confused...did I just here that come out of a Saudi woman's mouth?!? darker=prettier?!?)

Daisy cont'd: besides, if you want that smooth, white look you should go for that Japanese company Shiseido. Japanese like white complexions where Americans think you look sickly when your too white. (I know, I'm an enabler)

Uncle's wife: Yeah, geisha's.

(everyone's eyes twinkle a bit as they think of themselves donning the "geisha look" for an upcoming wedding in the family...some have come really close with the amount of powder/light make-up they use!)

The Technicolor Streak

My MIL finished her mourning period of four months and ten days, as is the Sunnah. During these months she only wore plain, undecorated clothes, didn't apply perfume or make-up, and didn't leave the house. On the evening her mourning period was finished, she donned a garb which clearly stated exactly how finished she was.


Now, if only one out of her 5 adult sons that she was "blessed" with, mashallah, would get off of their ungrateful butt and take the woman somewhere. All of the meals that were cooked in a blazing hot kitchen, all of the clothes that were laundered for them, all of the love and attention that was paid to them over the years went seemingly unremembered after her mourning period was done.

While all of her old-lady friends have been taken to Dubai, Syria, Egypt as well as other exciting places, the only place this poor unappreciated woman has been taken in her life is to Mecca and once to Bahrain.

Words cannot express my disappointment in all of her "loving" sons, who are now her legal guardians since her widowhood. The woman's been widowed for God's sake and had to stay in the house for 4 straight months. She deserves a well-earned trip replete with pampering, just for her.

Since I can't write these days...

Although I don't always agree with what she says or how she does it, I have to admire the guts Saudi women's rights activist, Wajeha Al-Huwaider, has to be able to make this video protest for International Women's day showing her driving on the streets of Saudia. Now mind you, if it's technically not illegal for women to drive here, and she does have a driver’s licence, then why should she get in trouble for making this video which shows her driving? Unfortunately we all know it doesn't quite work that way here:




I also came across a video featuring the always eloquent Suzan Zawawi from the Saudi Gazette. The first and second videos tell non-Saudis more about the lives of Saudi women in a few minutes that what I could write in a few years. We miss you Suzy, your mom and your sisters here in Al-Hassa:-)



part2


I had a real problem pressing the mute button on this video, I soooo luv this song (AAYB DAISY!). It's an homage to the niqabis...I plan on being that sister at the end of the video on the motorcycle.

I Was Playing in the Street When...

This is the phrase I've heard several old women using when emphasizing how old they were when they were married off:

"I was playing out in the street when they came and brought me to see this strange man and..."


My MIL estimates that she was probably around 11 years old when she was married off to her husband, a man 20 some years her senior (we never did know exactly how old my FIL was, God rest his soul). She claims that she hadn't even started menstruating yet, as once a girl hits puberty she can no longer play "out" in the street. The woman he'd been married to passed away suddenly and at the wake, his uncle came to comfort his grieving nephew.

"Why don't you marry my daughter", he offered to him. The man felt in his heart of hearts that having a new wife would ease his nephew's suffering as well as provide his daughter with a husband he knew and trusted. And so, my MIL was married off to my FIL.


As was common in those days, a new bride did not become the managing force in her household but rather, she became a part of her new husband's family's home. His mother was the matron and called all the shots. She was expected to be an apprentice to her husband's mother, bear the children and eventually, after her MIL became old and infirm, she would take over the managing the household.


More than likely due to the strain on my MIL's yet undeveloped body, her first 3 children died immediately, within a day or so, after birth. Although in the days "before oil" the infant mortality rate was astounding, 3 in a row would be tough! She was probably not even in her mid-teens before her first living child was born, at home, as were all the children at that time. After having lost 3 children in a row, they didn't take ANY chances with this one. Believing that someone had given them an "eye" resulting in their babies deaths, they hid the newest baby for over a year and didn't announce the delivery to anyone outside of the family. As a result, my husband's oldest brother didn't get circumcised until he was around 8 or 9 years old as well as never discovering exactly what his age is.


Such was life, back in those days. Both my MIL and FIL were illiterate and had to work hard for everything they had. My FIL was a manual laborer and worked various unskilled jobs throughout his life, jobs that S.E. Asian workers now do for less pay. There were no other options for girls back then; they were destined to become wives and mothers. Education for men was only available to the elite and the clergy in the past and upon attaining puberty, a girl was ready for the next stage in her life: marriage. There wasn't any thing else.


These days it's unheard of for a man to marry an 11 year-old girl in Saudia and attitudes have changed towards young marriage. Although you will hear of the occasional 14 year-old getting married, it's a rarity and teenage pregnancy rates in the west are probably higher than the rate of Saudi girls the same age marrying. Even marrying in high school is becoming more infrequent with every successive year. Some become engaged in the last year or so of high school or immediately after graduation. Many young women now are trying to finish university and get a year or two in working before marrying.


Occasionally, especially during exam times, I hear comments from some of the older women. "I don't see why they're killing themselves with all this studying for university when they're just going to get married and stay at home with the kids."

First Wife Bribed for Understanding

Sidelights: First Wife Bribed for UnderstandingArab News

YANBU, 26 February 2008 — Ah, the complexities of having multiple wives. Some may think this makes life easier, considering that multiple wives means multiple housecleaners and multiple food-preparers and if one gets on your nerves you can go hang out with the other one until the first one behaves properly. But in fact it’s not as easy as it sounds to have a number of women in your life: life ain’t easy for a player, as some might say. So it may come to no surprise that — according to the daily Al-Madinah yesterday — a man lavished his first wife with a grand fête filled with expensive gifts and jewelry when she did not dispute his desire to marry a second woman. Perhaps there is no better way to reward a woman for allowing you to marry another woman than to give her lots of shiny things.

If it works for her, who are we to say anything?

The Grass is Always…Fatter

The house was bursting at the seams with women who'd come to pay their respects in the days after my father-in-law passed away. Some stayed for only a matter of minutes, enough time to greet the other women present and drink a cup of coffee while expressing their condolences to the family, as is in good taste and is the Sunnah. Others, some close friends of the family but mostly unwanted lingerers, sat and chatted about all manners of goings-on as my grieving sister-in-laws turned into waitresses by refreshing bottomless cups of coffee and tea. The men had rented a farm to accommodate the onslaught of mourners but the womenfolk came to the small, old-style house since my mother-in-law is not able to exit her home during the mourning period for widows of four months and 10 days.

Since I actively avoid weddings, I don't often encounter large groups of women like what was present during the 3 days following my father-in-laws death. As women filed in and out of the house, all types of discussion were taking place; gossip, recent events, more gossip. Feeling a bit like Typhoid Daisy, I stood and greeted every woman that entered with the mandatory handshake and kisses on the cheek despite my 1o2°F fever then returned to shivering quietly, curled up under my abaya and layers of clothing while seated on a sofa in the corner of the room. Not up to participating in the topic-du-jour, I listened-in as the chatty women resumed whatever issue was being hashed out before disruption of greeting the latest batch of mourners.

"Are you still looking for a house?", one of the older women enquired of a younger woman who'd come with her mother, whose tight off-the-shoulder "bad-girl" abaya barely contained her girth and made her the topic of discussion after her departure.

"I found one next to so-and-so's house in such-and-such neighborhood", she responded as a group of old, toothless women across the room began paying attention to the information she was giving.

"For rent?", the older woman continued her inquiry. "Who owns it?"

"I can't remember the exact family name, my husband knows it, but he's got two wives and…", Miss Tight Abaya was cut-off before she could finish by one of the old toothless women.

"That's my son's house", she exclaimed, taking a proactive approach to the conversation before the women went too far into the "two wives" issue.

"When did he marry again?" another older woman asked with a surprised expression, obviously an old friend who'd lost touch with the polygamist's toothless mother.

"Last year" she answered her friend as more and more of the two dozen women in the room dropped whatever lines of meaningless discourse were taking place to substitute it with eavesdropping on this meatier topic , "I don't know why though, his wife is a good wife" the toothless mom added.

"So why'd he get married again?" a previously uninterested middle-aged woman interjected as the room began to go silent to listen in to the reason.

There are a number of supposed certains in a woman's life here regarding marriage. Some of which are as follows; if you do x,y,z for your husband, he won't get married again. If you are a good wife, you're husband won't have a reason to get married again on you. Being a "good wife" is of course a very subjective matter but some of the general qualities of a good wife are: your house is clean, you make plenty of babies, you cook well, you don't get fat, you don't look old, you take care of your appearance, you are not demanding, etc. If a man marries again, it is assumed for certain it's because his first wife was lacking in some way which forced him to go forth and seek greener pastures. When people hear a man has married a second wife, the question which immediately follows is: "why?" Everyone wants to know what was wrong with the first wife.

The entire room of mainly middle-aged women eagerly awaited the toothless mom's answer. Every woman wants to avoid the pitfalls of other women who've inadvertently forced their men into the arms of a second wife and even if this isn't their main motivation for paying attention, having dirt on the first wife is reason enough to listen intently.

"She's a good wife", the toothless polygamist's mom said again. "She's a good cook, her house is clean, she has three kids, she's not ugly…", she went on extolling the virtues of her seemingly infallible daughter-in-law.

"So what's his problem with her then", another woman impatiently enquired of the toothless mom?

"He says she's too skinny and he wants to be married to a fat woman", the old woman announced to a silent room which was instantly transformed into a sea of confused faces. For a few moments, the women in the room pondered the grammar and word order of the sentence with which the evidently confused old woman perplexed them.

"You mean she's too fat and he wants to be married to a skinny one", one of the eavesdroppers corrected her after concluding that the senile woman had inadvertently switched adjectives. After all, this order makes sense to everyone as they nodded their heads in agreement with the semantic correction.

"No", the toothless mom asserted, "his wife is thin and he wants a fat wife!"

The initial confused silence continued for a few more moments, left over from the toothless mom's first statement and compounded by her second. Logic and reason were turned on their heads, the sun began to rise from the west as the earth reversed rotation on its axis for these women. All of the sudden, in a simultaneous explosion, every last woman in the room burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

Women doubled-over with convulsive laughter while clutching their jiggling belly rolls and crossing their thick thighs as they wiped away tears from their plump cheeks with their sausage-like fingers. Miss Skinny Abaya popped a button in all the commotion. My MIL covered her face with her abaya trying to mask the hilarity, which was completely unbecoming of a grieving widow at the wake. Not one of the women in there was less than 15 kilos overweight and no doubt, the majority had tried many dieting methods and failed. Earlier that same day, DD's female cousin passed out and was having bad stomach pain from taking diet pills on an empty stomach. This laughter continued unabated for several minutes until, after catching their breath, some of the women wanted to clarify the facts of this distinctive second marriage.

"So was the first wife like, chemotherapy skinny?"

The polygamist's toothless mom answered, "No, she has a nice figure, not scrawny or anything. Just thin."

"They're never happy are they", I added my 2 cents to the conversation. "If they have a tall wife they want a short one, if they have a fat wife they want a skinny one, etc."

The old women all nodded their heads in agreement. The grass is always greener on the other side, or is it fatter?

The Ayjooza* News Network: Faster and More Accurate Than Al-Jazeera?

Before leaving America to come and live in Saudia, I met a woman from my husband's neighborhood in Al-Hassa who'd come as a travelling companion for a Saudi princess. During a pizza party with the princess, we chatted for a bit. This woman from the other side of world already knew all my business before she'd even stepped on the plane. At this point, I hadn't yet met my in-laws in person and this woman wasn't even related to my husband's family nor was she a friend of a family member and hadn't known in advance that she'd be meeting me. So, how on earth did she already know so much about me?!

You know you're a Hasawia (female Hasawi) when you know who your new neighbor is, what their dirty laundry is, and any and all gossip associated with them before they've even moved in.

Information passes through old Hasawi neighborhoods at a dizzying speed. This may be the reason that basic DSL connections are still under 1mg in the country…old women's wagging tongues far exceed the download speed of even the most modernized server so, why upgrade? Every weekday, there's a long-standing social tradition in the older neighborhoods. Old ladies file out of their houses after 'Asr prayer, sometimes armed with plastic baskets holding vacuum thermoses of hot tea and coffee and a few jingling glass tea cups as they walk to visit other old ladies in the neighborhood. The reason I say "old ladies" is because this tradition is dying out amongst the younger generation in newer neighborhoods.

Cities have expanded and completely new neighborhoods have sprung up in the deserts uprooting people from their old familiar neighborhoods and regrouping them into new, unfamiliar, constructed neighborhoods. Houses are bigger and further apart than in the old neighborhoods making it hard to get to know you neighbors. It's also harder to hear the arguments in the houses next door and you can't casually see their comings or goings without staking them out from your window either. All of the sudden, privacy reigns in the newer neighborhoods. Unlike in the older neighborhoods, you now need to announce your visit well in advance if you plan on visiting anyone to avoid majorly inconveniencing them.

Back in the old neighborhood after 'Asr, the old ladies knock on an open front door or clap their hands to announce their entrance to the residents inside. In many older houses, the magellat, or women's parlor, is located off of the family's living room. This means that the guest/intruder gets to see who's kept up house well, who's kids aren't cleaned up, and whether or not your hair was brushed upon stepping in the door. In order to keep up appearances, many women I know who live in these old neighborhoods sleep until noon then, cook lunch, eat, then rush to make fresh tea and coffee and promptly clean up and shower before the 'Asr prayer hits. If she's running a bit behind schedule, she risks un-announced guests arriving to see her and her house looking all torn up…what gossip fodder that is!

Ladies take a seat in the magellat in front of the a/c and are given a cup of water as they cool off a bit. Not having yet caught their breath and still wiping the perspiration from their faces with the inside of their now flipped-open face-veils, the Ayjoozat begin the day's gossip session with an exchange of pre-determined pleasantries to be said AT each other not TO each in a swift, simultaneous, robotic exchange without an obvious ounce of true concern to their demeanor:

"How are you…how's it going…how's your health…how's the family, good?…how's your parent's?...how's your mom's uncle's wife's father's cousin twice-removed's daughter doing?" (Ok, so I embellished a bit… but that's how it feels sometimes!)

Wedding invitations are like gold to these old women, there's really not much else to do around town. Anyone who receives an invitation with a +1 on it is everyones best friend. Many animated conversations revolve around events at these weddings and filling in the blanks for any non-attendees:

"Oh my God, there was this girl in a half-there purple dress! She was shaking her thang like this and her boobs were hoisted up like that (complete with actual booty shaking and boob-hoisting motions)"

"Ya, but the bride's mom, NO shame! Her hair's cut so short and she's wearing a sleeveless dress like this, at her age! And how's her stomach so flat?"

"Gurl, I heard she had a tummy-tuck and lipo just for the wedding"

"I heard they paid XXXX amount of money for the dress and they got it from Jeddah. And the tagagat** cost them XXX per hour and they were brought in from Kuwait.

"I saw so-and-so. I heard she's hired a lawyer to get a divorce from her husband"

And the beat goes on…

In one afternoon, sometimes 3 or 4 women visit my MIL's house. After sitting at her house for a bit and exchanging gossip, the women leave and many times go on to different houses to visit other friends in the neighborhood. Now it's math time:

4 women visit my MIL's house each bringing with them one piece of gossip to add to my MIL's gossip. After the exchange of gossip, each woman who'd originally had one piece of gossip leaves my MIL's house with 4 new pieces of gossip totaling 5 juicy tidbits. Then, each woman goes on her separate way once leaving my MIL's house and goes to another friend's house with her 5 bits of information where she meets 4 more women at the next house. She then spreads her 5 juicy tidbits to the 4 new women at her other friends house while acquiring at least 4 more juicy tidbits, at least one news bite from each woman totaling 9 interesting news bits for the day (I think). But if this is the second or third house the women at the other friend's house had visited that day, each woman may have more than one juicy tidbit to pass on!

Who from my readers is good at logarithms? LOL!

*Ayjooza= old woman

**Tagagat= female drum players/singers at weddings and parties (hired band)

Sorry, Can't Help Ya

I have to admit, there are days that I feel bad rousing DD out of bed when I know he hadn't slept, in order to take the girls to school in the morning. Most of the time, it's only because he doesn't have enough self-discipline to go to bed the night before instead, hanging out with his friends and family who've stayed up the entire night. However, there are days when he'd legitimately been working hard long into the night and it's entirely up to him to take the girls to school in the morning, such as today.

Daisy:

(poking an unconscious DD) Yella, goom! (get up), it's time to take the girls to school.

DD:

Aagh, I haven't slept at all for days.

Daisy:

I know, but the girls are all dressed and waiting for you.

DD:

Let them stay home today, I'll take them tomorrow.

Daisy:

Just make yourself get up and take them, maybe you can come home and sleep again.

DD:

Their not even having lessons now, don't bug me, let them stay home today.

Daisy:

Believe me, I wish I didn't have to bug you like this but I don't have any choice, I can't help you out here. It's up to you.

In England, my husband had me as a backup, and vice-versa. As most busy couples, we had an intricate schedule to follow every day based on who was free during the school drop-off/pick-up times. If I was working or had a lecture, it was up to him and if I was on my way home from being out, I'd pick them up. Being a typical Saudi man, he was never at his peak in the morning so many days it was up to me to drop the girls off on my way out.

My ability to drive in England also meant that DD's schedule was undisturbed by other necessities of life like food shopping and general errand running. Being the manager of the house, I could get all the stuff done as I needed, when I needed, and exactly how I needed without having to recruit my reluctant husband unnecessarily for things I could, and wanted to do, myself. As far as he was concerned, food magically appeared in the refrigerator and new clothes appeared in the closets despite him never stepping foot in a shop, something he dreads with every fiber of his being.

Since returning from England, many arguments, too much stress, and a lot of hurt feelings have resulted from this one, core issue which sinks its razor-sharp, rank teeth into almost every aspect of our family life:

I can't drive here.

We're not from one of those families that can easily afford to bring a live-in driver from S.E. Asia to do all those errands I usually did for myself, nor do we want one. Also, we can't easily afford to pay a Saudi driver just for the school runs nor, do we want to. There's no public transportation and a lone woman takes a chance with her safety and moral standing any time she takes a taxi alone. Many teachers here sometimes spend close to half their salaries just to pay some putz to drive them to their jobs and back.

Financial implications aside, does anyone else here agree with me that they aren't comfortable trusting their children with men they don't know anything about?! I fear anything with a penis coming within the general vicinity of my children let alone saying;

"please, take my children with you, alone, every day as long as they eventually make it to and from school. I don't know anything about you or your real history and you could be the world's biggest, most perverted, undiscovered pedophile but I will allow you free access to my children".

There are those who have an old man in the family, who's long been retired, to act as a type of chaperon. Well, that's great if you have one in your family but my FIL is in poor health, deaf, and blind so he can't help out. Some send their maids as chaperons for their kids which is bad as well. You may be putting your maid in a compromising situation, leaving your maid vulnerable to a possible assault or even, her hitting on the driver! There's a reason that in Islam, a man and a woman shouldn't ever be alone together, because Satan is always the third in such a situation.

-

One of my friends brought her maid's husband from Indonesia as the family's driver. Because it isn't proper for her to be alone with the driver, she had to bring her maid with her every day to be dropped off and picked up from her job. If this isn't ridiculous enough in itself, her youngest two children, who stayed with the maid while she was working, had to be hauled along with the maid every day just so my friend could go to work! Needless to say, my friend didn't work for too long with this complicated mode of transport. Because of her not being able to drive herself to her job in educational research to improve this country's deplorable education system, Saudi Arabia lost a well-educated woman's contribution to the betterment of the country.

-

There are those within the country who, when confronted with women complaining that they aren't able to get out and about say, "Stay at home! A woman's place is in the home". Hey, I'm at home sometimes an entire week without even stepping foot out of my house even once. However, necessity dictates that I need to go outside to pick out food (which my husband can never do correctly on his own), to purchase myself and my children clothes, or to visit family members or sick friends. Even the strictest hard-liners can't dispute those requests as legitimate reasons to go out. So every time one of these situations pops up in my home, a dialogue such as this follows:

Daisy:

(to an obviously tired DD) We're out of vegetables, when can you take me to get some?

DD:

I can't today, I'm too tired and tomorrow I have meetings before and after it's time to pick up the girls. Even I don't know how I'm going to manage to pick them up, After I drop off EttaMae (who's school's an hour's drive round-trip) I only have two hours to sit and do any work until I have to pack up and set out again to pick them up. Since school's started I've hardly been able to get any work done.

Daisy:

I wish I could help, but you know we have to depend on you to do this and we don't have any other options. This is food we're talking about my dear, not something that can be put off.

DD: Ok, tomorrow inshallah.

(tomorrow comes and goes and despite my understanding and sympathizing with DD, I'm irritated at the situation...)

Daisy:

(as DD walks in the door from work, trying to still sound nice despite a rage building inside) you didn't get any fruit and vegetables, we've already been out for a few days.

DD: I was too busy and I forgot. I'm too tired now to go out again.

Daisy:

Then don't take me, just try to stop on your way to or from someplace and grab a few things. And while your at it, we're out of bottled water and chicken too...

DD: My God, it's always requests, requests, requests from you.

Daisy: (citing the driver-less, Saudi woman's credo)

I don't have any other choice, what else am I supposed to do?

-

This same dialogue has been repeated time and time again, in houses across the country for many different situations. It's the material for Ramadan tv series depicting a young woman dressing like a man out of necessity to drive, and another women facing honor-killing by her brother for accidently being alone in a car with a strange man.Whether it's waiting anxiously at home praying for our kids to be dropped off unharmed by a total stranger or turning into shrewish nags in the eyes of our husbands in order to procure basic necessities of life, not being able to drive doesn't just affect the women in this country.

-

I'll leave you with a glimpse into the past, at marketplaces in Al-Hassa in the years 1938 and 1947 and the last one from around the same time in Riyadh. This was back when no one in the country drove, unless it was by donkey-cart or camel and towns were so small, most things were within walking distance. Take special notice of all the women, shrouded in black draping from their heads, going about their shopping. They enjoyed a freedom of movement and an ability to do things for themselves that has been stolen from us in modern times. If you'd like to sign the petition via email by sending your name, profession, nationality, and city of residence, for women to be given back this basic freedom, enjoyed by Saudi women in the past, by allowing women in Saudi Arabia to drive, it will be open for some time to come.

-

This first photo from 1938 is entitled "Vegetable and Fruit Vendors" from outintheblue.com. Hey, you there in the photo, can you buy me some while your at it?

This is from Riyadh

The Great Abaya Debate: Head vs. Shoulders

My readers from outside of the Kingdom cannot possibly understand the time and passionate debate that Saudis devote to this issue. Families quarrel over it, marriages dissolve over it, women have been damned to hell by clergy for it and signs have been hung in public about it. Never since the days of "tastes great, less filling" has there been a public debate of such mammouth proportions: should the abaya be worn from the head or shoulders?

Many non-Saudi people are now asking themselves, "why don't they get rid of it all together"? Trust me, the abaya's extinction ain't happening any time soon. For well over a decade now, what kind of abaya a woman wears is like wearing a public advertisement of her moral values, level of religious dedication, and ethnic background.

I established from before the time I got here that I wasn’t going to wear a "head" abaya. I’d been forewarned by my ‘bad-girl’ Saudi friends about how awkward and uncomfortable they are so my decision was made before I got here. To make matters worse, my mother in law bought me a head abaya and sent it with my husband preceding my leaving America. I gave this monstrous, heavy black tent a test run and it turned me sour. It was much bigger and heavier than this one:

Upon arriving here the first thing I did, while wearing that big ugly heavy abaya from MIL was go to the souk and place an order for a "shoulder" abaya to be made for me. I had to be advised as to what the local styles were so that I wasn’t pegged as a foreigner or weird looking just by the sight of me. I never got one of the really skinny or showy abayas, I always had them cut very wide and flowy as well as forgoing all the sparkly crystals and embroidery. There was a catch…I was pregnant. After a few months my baby belly became really obvious so I decided to return to a head abaya so I didn’t look like a black python who’s trying to digest a whole rabbit. I went and had one made with lighter fabric than the one my MIL sent me, no zipper or snaps down the front (old-fashioned), and a slimmer design like this one: I found out it wasn’t so bad. It’s actually cooler than the shoulder abaya. After wearing it awhile I was mostly unbothered by it (except getting in and out of the car with baby stuff). I cooled down even more by forgoing the rectangular scarf under it all, just wearing a three-piece face veil with no scarf under it all. Mmmm, breezy. Loved it. I found out some unexpected benefits: the flirters all but left me alone.

Perceptions of women wearing an abaya from the head:
-She is a religious woman
-She is a traditional woman
-She is not looking to flirt
-She is modest

- of course she's Saudi

Pros of wearing head abaya:
- Judged by others with the above listed criteria
-If I put my hand up to the a/c vent in the car I’ve got a central cooling system that goes up my sleeve and all around inside my abaya.
-No/less flirters
-I can hide friends underneath my abaya with me…no joke, I did this at a wedding once with a friend who couldn’t find her’s when the groom was going to enter.
-Easy to breastfeed a baby under. The whole kid fits under there and people maybe wouldn’t even guess the kids there.
-Don’t worry about a big, huge, pregnant belly. You’ll still look pregnant but it’s not that obvious…you could just be fat.

Cons of wearing a head abaya:
-Hard to look left/right, up/down without the stupid thing needing to be either held on or readjusted.
-Once you get up from a seated position you gotta hoist it back up onto your head.
-Hard to carry stuff on your shoulder (purses, baby bags) without yanking it off your head.
-Can't manage carrying a wiggly baby/toddler with all of the above issues.


Perceptions of women wearing an abaya from the shoulders:
-She is modernized
-She’s a “bad” girl
-She’s rebellious
-She’s young
-She’s irreligious
-She MUST be looking to flirt


Pros of wearing a shoulder abaya:
- Unobstructed movements including looking around, getting up and down from seats or in and out of cars.
- Carry as much as you can.
- These two pros are ALL I need to prefer a shoulder abaya

Cons of wearing a shoulder abaya:
-Although maybe ok for a teenager, looked down upon as undignified for anyone older than that. -All of the perceptions listed above.
-Here comes the flirters.
-Stuffier
-Cant breastfeed as discreetly as with a head abaya.
-You look weird very pregnant.

Considering I've had several Hijazi friends that don't even cover their hair, I know that these issues may have already been dealt with long ago in other parts of Saudia. But here in Al-Hassa, the debate still rages on. Attitudes can vary drastically with regards to what's appropriate, even within the same family. My husband prefers for me to wear an abaya from my shoulders, although I'm the only woman in his family who does. Unfortunately due to public perceptions, the choice is not necessarily one based on beliefs but rather, on what the neighbors are gonna say about them.

All images were taken from www.essenceofblack.com

Forcing Maids to Wear the Veil

I never once considered getting a non-Muslim maid. I think it causes many issues for a non-Muslim maid to work in a Muslim house...especially one with children. One of these issues, although one that I don't think is important enough to write an article about, is with covering in public. This is an issue for most, if not ALL, female ex-pats who come to live/work here as it is for for housekeepers.

Although I've never insisted that my Indonesian housekeeper wear a face-veil in public, we did buy an abaya for her after her arrival in Al-Hassa; a very functional on-the-shoulder one similar to my daughter's. Although I have seen some maids in public without them, they really catch my attention because they stick out. This, in itself, is reason enough for maids to wear abayas in public, in my opinion. My housekeeper already wears a headscarf of her own accord, even around the house since my husband and other males are here and she is a practicing Muslim woman.

Is it so strange to expect an abaya and headscarf to be part of a 'uniform' that maids in Saudia must wear? I had a worse uniform at the first job I worked at as a teenager and I'm sure many of my readers have uniform horror stories of their own:) Why should it be an issue? Couldn't we just chalk it up to being 'part of the job'? After all, they don't need to come here to work, they're all given choices of what country they want to work in before they leave.

Topics of Conversation in the Magellat

What have women been talking about in our magellat*? Here's some insight from this weekend's conversations.


Body Image- It was being discussed how now when a wife gains a few pounds, husbands are dogging them to slim down. Some of these women there have taken to extreme dieting to loose weight.

Changes in Married life- women were reminiscing about back in the days. These women are aged mid-20's to mid 40's and are all worried about getting older and appearing less attractive to their husbands. The influence of media on men's perceptions of their wives was discussed heavily. Who can compare to TV women who never change poopy diapers or scrub a floor and have perfect make-up, hair and bodies? Their grandparents never had issues like this.

Misyaar marriage- it used to be that a poor man's wife could relax when it came to one issue, her husband wouldn't be able to afford a second wife so her position was secure. But now, with some unmarried professional women willing to give up their rights to support and housing just to get married, even the poor guys can get married again. Where western women worry about their husbands having affairs with their secretary or taking on a mistress, women here worry about a second wife.

I was a quiet observer during this conversation and just listened to what these average Saudi women had to say. Some are slightly more educated than others, none of them are professionals, they have never travelled except to Mecca and Bahrain, and the household income for all of them doesn't exceed SR6,000 ($1,600).


*magellat- women's parlor, a room in a house used to receive female guests.

Support Sisters, Saudi Heritage, and the Envirionment With One Transaction

I’m being teased mercilessly and getting called “Nakhlawiyya” (farm-girl) by my in-laws because of my choice in laundry baskets. Instead of buying one of gazillions of plastic laundry baskets, I went and ordered a traditional, woven basket to be made for me by one of the dying breed of basket weavers here in the city. It’s actually used for hauling dates around but I saw its value for hauling clothes around. Nowadays most of these baskets are woven from plastic so I had to order one made for me of old-fashioned, undyed palm leaves.

Um Ahmed is the lady who managed to solicit our patronage…and these are some aggressive saleswomen! They’re located at the Thursday Market in back of the Central fruit market every Thursday morning till noon prayer. Yes, I mean the now notorious fruit market which is in back of the Flirty-Go-Round (the Baladiyya-City Hall). Since this area is away from the main body of the Thursday Market I could get down out of the car and browse through some of the ladies’ goods on sale and have a chat with them without shaming my family for several generations to come.

Um Ahmed allowed us to take a few pictures of her wares, all stuff she’s woven herself, as long as she was out of the picture. A tiny man, whom I can only assume is Abu Ahmed, was happy to pose holding up some of the items on display in a bid for free advertising. All the while he was telling me about the value of these baskets and how strong they are…that’s OK, we’re buying them already.

Um Ahmed saw my dork husband coming from a mile away and talked him into buying some traditional fans, pictured perched on top of the basket in the handles along with the mat she convinced him we need.

These poor women could use an A/C. The temp was rising fast and it wasn’t even noon yet!
The only things they have to protect them are these little shelters.

If I’d chosen a plastic laundry basket, it would be around for hundreds of years after its job of carrying laundry was done. It would have probably broken and cracked, forcing me to buy another one after only a few short years. This adds another plastic laundry basket behind as my ecological legacy for future archeologists to find and speculate as to their uses along with millions of pampers, plastic shopping bags, Pepsi cans and legless Fulla ‘idols’ in a Saudi landfill.

You can find 'Um Ahmed's' in any country on this planet, struggling to preserve traditional crafts and bring them to market. By buying from Um Ahmed I’m helping to preserve a piece of heritage and history, I’m putting food on her table and clothing her children and I’m not polluting the earth. Also, I get to listen to my in-laws reminisce about their sweet memories growing up ‘before oil’, a history lesson triggered by the sight of my new laundry basket.

If you loved me you'd cook me rice

He: The house is a mess, and I’m hungry
She: I’m so tired, I have a project I need to do.
He: That’s enough, I’m sick of always coming after your schoolwork. When was the last time you cooked?
She: Buy something from outside, I’ve got too much stuff to do. I also need to get the kids bathed and put to bed so I can finish my work for tomorrow.
He: If you loved me you’d cook me rice.
She: That’s the measure of love? Everyone else I go to uni with has maids, I’m the only one who doesn’t.
He: So I’m supposed to get you a maid now? We don’t have any money.
She: That’s not what I mean, can’t you be patient and understanding a little?
He: You’ve been going to school for 6 years already. I got married to have a wife, not to live like this.


This couple almost got a divorce last week. My husband was called in to intervene and talk to the man. I talked to the woman to get her side of the story so when my husband was talking to the man, he’d have more of the facts. We’d already gotten the cliffnotes version from her father who gave us the call and we were discussing the issues in the car on the way to meet them. Being close to the woman I knew more background on the story than my husband did so I asked him to pass on a few morsels of counsel to the man. I wanted him to tell the man about our life when I was a student in England.

We were both studying but of course (as is the way it is in most of the world, wrong or right) the housework and childcare were my responsibility. My husband’s degree took precedence over mine because although we were both on scholarship, his career and consequently our future, depended on HIS doing a good job.
· Remember my bouts of crying because I had too much on my plate?
· Remember how I wouldn’t sit down to eat with my family because I had to start on the cleanup?
· Remember how I had to choose either attending lectures or studying, I didn’t have time for both?
· Remember how I was the only Saudi female student we met who had small kids but no maid?
· Remember how I could only do my uni work after the kids were fed, bathed, played with, sent to bed and the house cleaned?
· Remember how I had to base what lectures I chose on the timetable and how it fit around my kids being home, not on the quality or content of the lecture?
· Remember how when I had essays due, and there’d always be three or more due at the same time, I’d have to do a housework and children strike for almost a week previous to the due date, not sleep for 3 days previous to the due date, and once again cry because I can’t do the good job that I wanted to and I know I’m capable of and I was so stressed out.
· Remember how skinny and sickly I became because of the pressure? I spent second semester of my third year in and out of the hospital with asthma, many attacks were triggered by stressful situations.
· Remember how we had to put off having more children because there’s no way a baby could have fit into the chaos?
· Remember how I had to do my grocery shopping online because I could point and click and Voila! It was delivered for a fiver.
· Remember how I’d go months without talking to some of my friends because I didn’t have time?
· What beauty regime? Oh yeah, every week I’d clip my nails. I had an annual hair trim immediately after taking the year’s last exam. Good thing I wore hijab AND nikaab at uni! There were days I had on my PJ’s under my jilbab.


I regularly talked with this woman about her struggles while trying to finish university. I already knew of her husband’s attitude towards being “neglected”. She confides in me since many stay-at-home old-school Saudi women don’t understand the pressure she’s under. She’d gotten married, had two babies, underwent a major health scare and spent much time in the hospital with one of her children all since starting her studies.

This could be any couple, any where in the world. Although some western men may help somewhat around the house, I’ve heard statistics which suggest that women in two-income families still do upwards of 80% of the housework in America and England. And even the 20% SOME of them do is praised unnecessarily! Don’t be surprised a Saudi man sits around like King Farrouk waiting to be served by his frazzled wife because unfortunately, they’re not the only ones as I’m sure we’ll hear about in the comments section. I remember some of my Eastern European relatives bitching because their son was washing the dishes after getting home from work: his wife had three kids under the age of 5!

Rather than relating more sad stories of female oppression via housework, I want my readers to feel how universal this situation is. Did it make any difference that it took place in Saudia, in Arabic, and with two Saudis in an Islamic marriage?

The Abazons

The Amazons were an ancient nation of female warriors.

It has been noted that until the 20th century, Amazons were typically depicted in literature as an alien adversary that threatened the masculinity of heroes. As such, the typical goal of the heroes has been to defeat and humiliate them as a way of reasserting their own, masculine superiority.

In the 20th century, Amazons were depicted with increasing sympathy. Today, the typical depiction of the characters is as an isolated community of powerful and beautiful warriors whose respect and cooperation the male heroes are challenged to earn.



Abazon- An abaya-clad Amazon who, as their literary counterparts in the past, threaten the masculinity of most Saudi men. As such, the typical goal of the Saudi man has been to defeat and humiliate them as a way of reasserting their own, masculine superiority.

Abazons differ from their Amazonian cousins in that the term Abazon doesn’t strictly denote a warrior-woman although does not exclude that notion either. It can be applied to any Muslim woman who struggles , either publicly or silently, against unfair treatment of women, who steps forward to claim the rights granted to her in the Quran and Sunnah, and asserts her God given authority within her society.

I think I'll patent the term Abazon....remember folks, you heard it here first.

Do you think we'll achieve our rights faster if we look like the Abazon above?

Boo Ya!

Cultural Crap

As a Saudi citizen, I’m a stakeholder in the future of this country. Unlike some critics who criticize this country from an outsider’s perspective, change- or rather lack thereof- directly affects my family’s lives. Many things I try to point out in my blog are things that some Saudis have become complacent about and don't question the logic or the why's behind it-they just go along with it. That's not OK with me. Having grown up outside of the culture, I'm able to distinguish between cultural Islam and real Islam immediately. No one can pull a fast one on me by giving me the answer "haram" and I consider my culture-free insight into our religion a blessing. I’m not the only one with issues about this topic; what is Islamic and what is Saudi- they’re not the same after all. The Saudi blogs are full of people, some more constructive intentions than others, with similar issues (read comments too). Many of us (not all of course) criticize because we want our country to improve so it can realize its glorious potential, as a truly Islamic nation.





Whether or not I can go to the fruit market may seem insignificant in comparison to the issue of forced divorces…but it’s one of those small cultural issues I’m faced with on a daily basis which add up and build up. Another example from many, some try to argue that riding 4wheelers isn't something that girls should do. They say ridiculous things like "maybe the wind will blow her veil or abaya and she'll be uncovered" or my favorite, "it's undignified". Oh, for God's sake get over yourselves. No, riding a 4wheeler isn’t a necessity of life but, why not? Was it a necessity of life for our Prophet (PBUH) to have a footrace with his young wife Aisha (RAA) or a food fight with his wives? Fun’s a part of Islam too.


I’ve seen women on TV in Iran, covered properly, doing everything from sliding down enormous inflated slides to engaging in sporting activities. Iranian women really seem to be go-getters and I want to know more about them. It may just be a faulty observation by a Sunnia, but it looks like Shia women don’t have as much cultural BS to deal with as we Sunnis do. They appear to have more freedom of movement and go about their business normally. I need to ask my Shia friends about this. Comparing notes is a favorite activity between me and a Shia lady from Qatif. What we’ve found is there are more similarities than differences, and the differences are not so important to cause the huge divide that exists between the two groups in this country….but that’s another post. They’re usually the only ones I see out on their own and in places I can’t go because it’s a ‘shame’. You go Shia girls!


The funny thing is it’s not just the men, women too are limiting our activities with similar arguments. I went 4 wheeling with several of my teenage nieces, my sister-in-law, and my two daughters at a popular spot on the edge of the city. We went when it was almost dark and to a location which wasn’t full of men and during the work week when there wasn’t a lot of people gathered there. We had a great time and I’m glad my husband isn’t of the ‘stick-in-the-mud’ variety of men who would dismiss our desire to go and play. We all remained covered, our laughter was unheard by any men, and my husband was the only male in the bunch. What did my mother-in-law have to say about our activity, “qalilat il adab! (we don’t have good manners)”. There was a whole piece in one of the Arabic newspapers here about women 4wheeling last year- I can’t remember which one though. The gist was when men were interviewed and asked whether it was OK for women to go 4wheeling, many of them responded “yes”. Then the interviewer asked if it was OK for their sisters, mom, wife, etc to go and almost all of them said “NO”. hmmmmmm.


It's amazing how almost everything fun here that involves outside your house has to be an issue of indecency. They have no religious basis for most of it, it’s a tool of repression used by feeble men who aren't respected outside their own households so they have to lord their 'authority' over their womenfolk.

Real men are willing to challenge the status quo if something isn't right and especially if it means standing up for someone other than themselves. If it were only African Americans and women standing up for their rights, their rights would have never been granted to them. It's because people outside those groups could recognize the unfairness of their treatment and joined the bandwagon. One must pick one's battles carefully. Even if men aren't willing to challenge the status quo head on, they must be willing to at least consider the prevailing opinion's absurdity. We’re not to the point that my husband is willing to take us 4 wheeling on the busiest days with a lot of men passing by us in cars but, he’s willing to take us. That speaks volumes here.

Forbidden Fruit

There are some places here where it’s just not OK for a woman to go. But the fruit market, come on!

What are they worried about, someone man-handling my melons or pinching my peaches?

My husband, the Dork of the Desert (DD), hasn’t a clue how to pick out what I need. The result- him walking back and forth a couple of times to and from the car when I don’t approve of his choices or need to remind him of items he’s forgotten. There are some old women there, some foreigners, but even my husband is a bit uneasy with me being there in the car.

I know a household of women, real do-it-yourselfers, who go fruit shopping anyway. The father died not long before I met them and their only brother was living overseas. Their solution: the oldest daughter (in her ‘30’s) put on her old lady abaya (styles differ between the generations) and went and did whatever she needed to, including the fruit market.

The Thursday market is another no-go zone for the estrogen-endowed. One man told me he wouldn’t even take his infant daughter to the bird market there, it’s such a shame. Once again, the few women there are Bedouin or Shia, and only some of the oldest Sunni women. My mothers in law’s requests for transport to the Thursday market are met with all her 5 sons refusing to take her. I’ve convinced my husband to take me on a few occasions but only descended from the car once, after he took a good look around to see who’s watching.

Another strange place that I can’t go is the Islamic shop where there are various books, cassettes, and religious paraphernalia for sale. This one I couldn’t fathom why. I wanted to buy some Islamic nasheed (a cappella songs without musical instruments) tapes for myself and my children. Once again, I can’t go in because “it’s just not done”. DD has to go in and communicate with me walkie- talkie style on our mobiles for my approval as I sat in the car outside.

There isn’t a law forbidding us to go any of these places, as I’ve mentioned there are some women there. Unfortunately, our men don’t want other men seeing them take their women to these places. I have a feeling that with the influx of Qataris this will soon change, if it hasn’t started already- I haven’t gone for quite awhile. Unaware that fruit shopping is a shame, Qatari women, who are similar to us in appearance, will freely peruse the markets. I hope the Saudi fruit sellers can endure the sight of these women all fondling their fruits and caressing their cucumbers.

Women can't drive if she wears a veil....Bull!

Food for thought for those naysayers that think we must discard our veil in order to drive:

Personally, I've driven veiled in the east and in the west (I've even driven in SAUDIA- Shhhh!). If you have enough of an IQ to operate a motor vehicle, you have enough brains to arrange your veil so it doesn't interfere with your peripheral vision. Now, let's discuss the topic of long hair blowing in the wind, impeding it's possessors vision.