This photo is of a man in a djellaba or hooded robe worn by men and women. A woman passed me by the other day and as we came face to face she quietly said "modest" and continued on. The area I am staying in is very conservative and though my coat is long-sleeved and goes to my knees, I will not cover my hair. Some women here dress as I do. Some dress in Western clothes yet also cover their hair. Others cover their hair and wear djellabas. Still other are in robes, flowing hair veils and full face veils. The two veils are drawn as close together as possible with only the barest of openings through which to see. I find myself trying to make eye contact which I am certain is rude and draw back from causing insult. What I have seen on more than one occasion though is a woman with her hair covered, clad in her djellaba with her face 5 inches from another's and arguing loudly with great gesticulating. I would like to believe that I carry my modesty inside of me and that my bare arms or hair do not belie the nature of my character. Ranting like a shrew in public I find to be less modest than whether a stranger passing by knows if my hair is blond or brunette. In such crowded confines I imagine that you must learn to be assertive and hold what little ground you might have. While ordering a belt from Simo the other day, he and Pierre (from Pau, France! -coincidence?!) and I had this comparative French/English/Arabic conversation about modesty, independence, women's traditional garb around the world etc. We have agreed to disagree. Simo contends that the modern Moroccan woman often has her own apartment, dresses in Western clothes and walks about with her hair uncovered thus she is no different than I. I can only say that assuredly someone in her family is upset by this. No one in my family is upset every day that I walk out the door with an uncovered head. (...with my sometimes changing hair colour perhaps...) Pierre says that being in this crowded city and this different way of thinking and approach to all things makes one feel one's aloneness. While I am on the hunt for my own djellaba for fashion and warmth reasons and also as a nod of respect, but not pandering, to the culture that I have chosen to abide in for a brief bit, I understand Pierre's sentiment. Every passing day reminds me of the matriarchal nation that I come from, from the strong women in my family that have filled the coffers of my memory with examples of respectful, independent conduct. Every day here perhaps does not make me feel alone but definitely separate. Grateful also that my modesty might not be conveyed from an external wrapping displayed for all but rather be discovered as an internal trait that may be known by those people who spend time with me. Before Pierre arrived at Simo's shop, Simo was talking about a person's inclination to bond with, and assert more, their cultural ties when they feel threatened or in the minority. So maybe someone reading this could drop a copy of the latest Haida CDs into their luggage (MB) and bring them over here. That would be great! Haida dance practice in Fez every Tuesday at 7 in the courtyard. Tell your friends...
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