Covering Up In Cairo

As a single white female travelling through the Middle East, you accept the fact that you are going to get looked at. Stared at. Pointed at. You accept this fact, and you move on. You smile, laugh it off, maybe even make a new friend or two. It's all good, right?

And in during my experiences in the Levant, it was all good. People are naturally
curious when they see a face that isn't like the ones they see every day, especially
when that face is attached to a head of light coloured hair. And if you walk around
in a T-shirt, cars will probably slow down so that the drivers can take a look. They can't believe what they are seeing. And although it's not the way they would like their wives and daughters to dress, they accept that this isn't everyone's values, and that we crazy westerners are entitled to do what we like, such is the liberalism of the laid back Levantine Muslims.

In Egypt, however, they wear their religion (quite literally) more severely. Full face coverings abound, and although there must be more than a million non Muslims in the city of Cairo, it's rare to see an uncovered female head. And walking the streets of Cairo, I can understand why.

You see, I had always been prepared to wear a headscarf, out of respect for my host countries culture and religion, but never found that it was expected of me, my modest dress seemed sufficiently courteous. And here in Cairo, when I wrap my hair and neck up in a brightly coloured scarf, respect doesn't even enter into it.

I cover up out because I can't handle the lingering stares that are accompanied by lolling tongues and parted lips. Stares that make me feel like my physical presence is for men's sexual gratification. Stares that often come accompanied with muttered Arabic I can't understand, or clumsy English pick up lines; 'Sleep with me!', 'I want to marry you','Oh my God!'.

If you are visiting Cairo and stick only to the tourist routes, to the Pyramids, the Museum, the main street of the Coptic Christian area you will likely not cause any commotion.

If you travel with a bus load of other tourists, you'll be accepted as a group of tourists, and dismissed by passers by.

If you stick only to the tourist routes, you will miss the intricate details of this
thriving city- the swarms of cats in piles of trash, the kids playing in the street,
the woman on the 7th floor hauling up a bucket filled with vegetables by the donkey cart driver.

And if you cover your arms and legs and neck and hair and sweat it out in the summer sun, you may still encounter the harassment, the awkwardness, the cringing moments.

You may still find yourself being mobbed by school girls in front of the mosque, queuing for a photo with a smiling westerner- one who has tried her hardest to be inconspicuous, to blend in.

In the embrace of these teenage school girls you will forget the leers and jeers of the men whose only experience of white females is from gigantic billboards and MTV and, lets face it (I've seen the cable channels) degrading pornography.

Cairo wins you over in the end, and leaves you pondering the values and attitudes of
it's inhabitants, so visibly juxtaposed with the bronzed and exposed Egyptians of ancient times depicted on so many relics prized by their modern descendants.

Cover up in Cairo. But keep your heart and mind open.