Brought Back Memories

An excerpt from the New Yorker -

SHOPGIRLS in Saudi Arabia
The art of selling lingerie.
By Katherine Zoepf

One morning in Riyadh, I was with a female photographer from the States and a male Saudi translator at Granada Center, another shopping mall. We were preparing to interview managers at a supermarket that had recently begun hiring women, and we’d stopped to buy breakfast at a Krispy Kreme stand. In the food court’s family section, frosted-glass partitions separate women and their male escorts from the section for single men. (Customers who don’t find this arrangement private enough sit at tables inside the family section, which are entirely surrounded by frosted-glass partitions.) We’d chosen a table next to windows overlooking a parking lot fringed by desiccated palm trees. I had spilled half a cup of coffee down the front of my abaya, and had shaken off my head scarf for a moment to dry myself with a wad of paper napkins. Our translator suddenly stopped talking, and I looked up to see two young men with long, untidy beards hovering over our table. They wore white thobe robes above their ankles, several inches shorter than is typical, and red-and-white checked ghutra headdresses without bands of black cord—styles favored by deeply religious Muslims and meant to indicate a rejection of vanity. They appeared to be in their early twenties, and it took me a moment to recognize them as members of the religious police. Our translator stood up. “If you could cover your hair,” he murmured, without looking at me.

The Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, the Saudi government group responsible for enforcing Sharia, is known as the Hai’a (the Arabic word means “committee”). Six years ago, Hai’a members were ordered to stop carrying canes, and they can no longer publicly strike miscreants, but they can detain and humiliate people and shut down businesses. Although the committee technically does not allow individual members to decide whether something is an affront to Sharia, they usually act as they see fit.

More than four thousand members of the Hai’a patrol in public places, making sure, among other things, that all women and girls past puberty are properly covered, and that men and women who are spotted together are either spouses or close relatives. We had violated both of these rules. The Hai’a men took our translator a few paces away and began rebuking him. He returned to our table to say that the men had asked for our passports. “You may need to call your embassy,” he whispered.

About twenty minutes later, the Hai’a men returned our passports, but took our translator away. As he was led out of the food court, I noticed other shoppers sneaking glances at us. A few of them had an expression that I recognized from elementary school—the sly, intent look of children enjoying the spectacle of schoolmates being disciplined by a teacher. An hour later, after our translator was released, he told us that he’d been taken to the Hai’a members’ S.U.V., and made to sign a “confession.” He laughed off our concern—forced confessions are something that young Saudi men take in stride.

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2013/12/23/shopgirls

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As expats living in the UAE, we were not required to cover our hair.