I remember traveling to Cairo once many years ago. It was one of my first international flights out of the Kingdom and has remained lodged in my memory ever since. The peculiar thing was that when I was standing in the queue to have my luggage checked in I found that I was practically the only one with my face uncovered and became instantly conscious that I must have looked quite out of place. Several of the ladies around me were shrouded from head to foot and were only recognizable by the children who accompanied them.
Once we actually boarded the plane, I sat at the end of a row of four seats adjacent to the aisle. The flight was packed with families and collectively we formed a sea of black with the odd spattering of color here and there. As I had not had much sleep prior to the journey I dozed off.
When I awoke quite some time later due to an announcement of the captain alerting our attention to some imminent turbulence, I had the shock of my life. The whole scenario had been radically and dramatically transformed, as if the sullen painting I had been suspended in no longer existed and I had been transferred to a bizarre and surrealistic Salvador Dali canvas instead. As I blinked wildly and tried to take in my readjusted vantage point I was hit by the complete incongruity of my now illustrious setting and how once again I appeared to be the anachronism throughout all of this.
Evidently as I had been asleep, someone had waved their magic wand and all those who were in their senses had been drained of their monochromatic garb and had been repainted in glorious technicolor. Lulled into a state of blissful slumber, my robe had remained untouched and there were quite a few others who also lingered as they had been.
Some of my companions from the check-in counter who had previously solely been identifiable through their accompanying offspring now assumed an identity all of their own. The lady with twins sported a smart designer twin set with matching accessories. The mother of the cherubic looking toddler with ringlets wore a flattering lace dress and had obviously visited the hairdresser early morning. The tall skinny lady with glasses pranced around the gangway in faded denim.
In short, the all-encompassing abayas had been hastily replaced by the latest in couture ensembles and catwalk fashions. Even several of the men had re-emerged jubilant from those tiny washroom cubicles having shed their white skins in favor of outfits that had most definitely been designed with aging rock stars in mind.
I have been on several flights out of the Kingdom subsequently and the modus operandi is invariably the same. By the time you remove your seatbelt, the outer covering has been whipped off with an even greater urgency than that of this inconvenient contraption. If the minute that we are out of this country we abandon our veils and cloaks then this speaks rather poorly for our level of belief in what has become an intrinsic part of our national identity.
It really is none of my business to comment on people’s preferential attire when they are left to their own discretion, but what does disturb me is the mixed signals that such actions must impart to those who don’t really understand our customs and traditions. I have been party to several discussions whereby the general consensus is that we behave according to implicit double standards. I have been asked on innumerable occasions by my expatriate friends and acquaintances what the justification is to follow these rules and regulations exclusively on this soil. Why is it, they so rightly persist, that the minute you guys go abroad, you abandon everything you supposedly hold so dear? Why is it indeed? This question is actually more relevant to us than we would care to imagine.
I think that there are a plethora of important points that need to be addressed. The foremost of which is the fact that we absolutely have to understand that if we do not cultivate a respect for ourselves, our culture, our religion and our deep-rooted traditions, then no one else will. If we espouse certain values within the borders of our own territory and forsake them the instant we traverse them, this reflects an inherent irreverence for all that we supposedly represent and believe in.
How on earth can we convincingly request citizens of other countries to adhere to our strictures and codes of ethics when we all too frequently discard them whenever and wherever the opportunity presents itself.
Islam is not about veils or abayas or whatever garb we choose to wear. The Islamic faith has a global following of over a billion people. Each country has its own dress code for its citizens and this is totally acceptable as the religion itself is designed to accommodate diversity in all its manifest shapes and forms.
When I see Malaysians or Indonesians abroad they are always dressed decently with long sarong type skirts and pretty matching scarves of different colors and patterns. Indians and Pakistanis are decently dressed and covered in their elegant sarees and salwar kameezes. Africans don their intricately embroidered homespuns with charisma and style. It doesn’t matter where they are. They are proud of their country, dignified in their morality and unswerving in their decency.
What’s more is that this commands a great deal of admiration and curiosity from the natives of the country they are visiting. It also allows for dialogue and exchange and a potential greater understanding of difference. People respect them. When they are alluded to they are termed “charming”, “exotic”, “captivating” and “delightful”.
I have rarely heard such positive comments made about us. In all honesty, I don’t think that this phenomenon can entirely be blamed on those judging us. Our claims that we have consistently been victimized and targeted have encouraged us to persist unchecked for way too long. We have suffered as a result of our inability to accept criticism, even when it is valid.
I get sick and tired of being regaled with the antics of my fellow countrymen when they go to Europe or America. I cringe in desperation every time I overhear conversations about the latest scandal or debacle that has occurred because of the actions of a few bad apples. It really is a slap on the face of all of us who espouse an established degree of decorum and modesty wherever we go. Our faith is one of moderation. This is the key to being a practicing Muslim. And yet, in all contradiction to this very principle that serves as the blueprint for all of our behaviors, several of our citizens tend to adopt one extremity or the other and rarely the middle path that underpins the essence of the Islamic faith.
There are elements among us who behave in a manner that is unfortunate and entirely irresponsible. Although now we have the larger image of being terrorists, bombers and hijackers the impression that we had created earlier was not much better.
The seemingly innocuous acts by a few misguided individuals that had characterized us in the past, and the recent sporadic atrocities committed by our own people will characterize us for generations to come. We must be fully aware of that.
We must recognize that whether we like it or not, we are at a crucial juncture in our own history and that of our world where the weighty scrutiny of all is upon us. We communally bear the responsibility of extrapolating an image more true to ourselves and to that of the great faith we practice. Wherever we are, we owe it to our country and to our society to put forth an image more coherent with our aspirations.
So what image is it that we present to the average onlooker when we traipse off on our summer vacations? Do we even know? Do we even care? This much I can tell you. By discarding our values, in the same way that we shed our self-restraint in favor of excess of any form, we make a mockery of ourselves and what our society symbolizes at every level. At that point, we have only ourselves to blame.
(Lubna Hussain is a Saudi writer. She is based in Riyadh.)