Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
COLLEEN KINDER
Blot Out
FROM
Creative Nonfiction
OProphet!Tellthywivesandthydaughtersandthewomenofthebelieverstodrawtheir
cloaks close round them [when they go abroad]. That will be better, so that they may be
recognized and not annoyed.
—
Quran 33:59
Y
OU CAN PRETEND
you're in a tunnel. You can make believe you have on blinders. You can
stare 100 yards in the distance at a random point. You can walk with urgency or purpose. You
can look prickly or preoccupied. You can wear an iPod. You can make a cell phone call. You
can fake a cell phone call. You can write a text message to no one.
These are the ways foreign women get down the street in Cairo. These are the tricks they
share, the ways they teach me to “beige out,” as one woman put it, to fog up the glasses,
whenever outside. Outside is the sphere of Egyptian men. Men run markets, crowd alleys, fill
every subway car but the very middle one, marked by a huddle of headscarves. Females are
scarce on Cairo's streets, and those who do appear seem hurried, like mice suddenly exposed
in the middle of a room, rushing for cover.
I'm a journalist, here for just one month. The only thing I have to do inside is write about
what I see outside. In short: I can't coop myself up in Cairo. My very first day, unsure of
Egypt'scodes,Iplayeditsafeandtiedasilkpinkscarfaroundmyface.Inthemirror,Ilooked
like a little girl dressed up as the Virgin Mary. Covered, I felt safe but no less overwhelmed.
On too many streets, mine was the lone headscarf weaving through tight teams of men. Their
stony gazes felt like scorn.
I ditched the headscarf once I met American women living in Cairo. Covering my head
wasn't necessary, they laughed. People knew I wasn't Muslim. I was obviously a Western wo-
man, and, yes, that meant unvirginal here, and, sure, that aroused disapproval—all of which I
should get over, quickly, and just focus on getting down the street.
I get down Suleiman Gohar Street by staring hard at middle distance. Sometimes, I practice
the Arabic words for “left” and “right”—
shmal, yamin
—to the rhythm of my footfalls. And
sometimes,intheblurofmyperipheralvision,Icatchsightofablackghost—anEgyptianwo-
man draped from head to toe in dark fabric—and I wonder what it's like under there, dressed
in
niqab
.
