Walls and veils hide Saudi women from the world
Reuters ^ | Thu Jul 27, 2006 1:36am ET | By Andrew Hammond
today.reuters.com
RIYADH (Reuters) - Sitting in the reception area of a Saudi newspaper office, we do nothing more damning than talk about the weather and the local press.
The security guards eye us suspiciously -- so much so that I avoid crossing my legs to escape the impression of being overly casual with my female interlocutor.
In almost any other country it would be a routine exchange. In Saudi Arabia, a public meeting like this between a man and a woman could ruin her reputation and besmirch a family's honor.
The young woman explains in almost a whisper that we are lucky we can even talk here. Hotel lobbies are a non-starter, she says, since women have been hauled off by the Islamic religious police for talking like this to strange men.
Fortunately, the space we occupied was not so public that the vice squad could barge in on our professional conversation. And the management had been informed in advance of our not-so-dangerous liaison.
But the experience brought home to me one of the most striking of this country's many singularities -- that half the population is off-limits to men for the kind of day-to-day contact of most other places in the world.
A modern city of four million, Riyadh has a cosmopolitan and sophisticated air, all the more resplendent for the billions of dollars flowing in from the oil price boom.
Its wide streets bulge with the latest sports cars and four-wheel-drives. Its vast shopping malls offer the latest fashions for the desert capital's jetset elites. Its numerous cafes -- the global brand names -- provide wireless Internet and young men sit there playing the stock market.
But the familiarity stops there, for beneath the surface a system of gender segregation is in force which rigorously separates men from women unless they are close relatives.
OUT OF SIGHT
Women are removed from the glare of strangers, whether behind the tinted windows of cars, the high walls of houses or the monotone black outfits called abayas which Saudi religion and tradition ordain should cover the face.
A male reporter cannot ask a woman in the street for directions, let alone approach her with questions about an issue of the day. Conferences about women's issues are often closed to male journalists.
Once I contacted a young novelist in her 20s, but she would converse with me only through email. When it comes to arranging meetings, always the same problem presents itself: Where?
The religious police consists of clerics or their students who roam the streets with normal police to ensure that the strict regulations of Saudi Islam are enforced.
Occasionally, men in more liberal parts of the country will make an effort to promote their wives' achievements.
A businessman in the Shi'ite Muslim town of Qatif once invited me to interview his wife, a writer and social activist.
The interview took place amid ritual and protocol reminiscent of scenes from the 1,001 Nights, when holy leaders and caliphs were separated from the world of impurity by curtains and screens.
The meeting occurred in the family's inner sanctum, the home. We could not shake hands, and men presided over the exchange since otherwise there could be a suggestion of impropriety and people would talk.
As a guest, I was being allowed to enter a roomful of women who had gathered in a private space precisely because they expected to be protected from the prying eyes of strange men and the scourge of rumor.
Even when speaking to me, the women held their veils tightly over the face and kept their eyes to the ground. I too averted my gaze, as uncomfortable as they were. Leaving was a relief. |
