Mutaawa!

Last night we went out with some friends. The plan was to go out to dinner and then come back to our place for some friendly competition, board game style. As the final prayer of the day was at 7:45pm we decided to make our dinner reservation for just after prayer at 8:20. In the evening you never know what traffic is going to be like. From about 6:00pm - 12:00am it is rush hour. Here the day is flipped around. Anyway, we arrived at the restaurant at 7:50 so we had some time to wait. We decided to walk around and wait for the doors of the restaurant to (re) open. The weather was nice and well waiting outside seemed like a better idea then waiting in the car...that is, right up until the Mutaawa (religious police) showed up.

A car, like a Jeep Cherokee, (although I can't be sure because I didn't really give it a good look) with lights flashing slowed and stopped in the street by where we were standing and one of the men in our group said:

"Is that the Mutaawa?"

Now, for some reason, even though there is no reason to be frightened, my natural reaction is to panic and my girlfriend and I both turn our backs to the street and look at our husbands. As we are women the Mutaawa are not allowed to address us...so if we were alone, they could not come up to us but they get out of their car and approach us. And what is interesting is that they are really young.

"Arabic?"

"What?"

"Arabic?"

"What...no"

The man takes hold of his ghuttra (the red checkered scarf men wear here) and starts signing to us (as it is apparent his english is not very good) It is clear that he wants us (the women) to cover our hair. But our friend says,

"If your women came to our country we wouldn't ask them to cover their hair"

He stands there in strong defiance, staring at the Mutaawa with no apparent discomfort, just a calm lack of respect. He is much bigger than they are. (Now, this is not me, I'll gladly cover my hair, without a word, just to get them to go away and avoid any confrontation) And that is what we did. We quickly covered our hair, silently, not looking at them. I missed part of the exchange in my scrambling to cover my hair because, yes, on the inside, I just want them to GO AWAY!

But I do hear:

"Go house!"

"Go house!"

"Go house!"

Some more words are exchanged between the men and then the Mutaawa leave. I ask,

"Did they want us to go home?"

No. Apparently they thought

(1) we should not be outside during prayer but we weren't the only ones out on the street and the whole thing is kind of lost on us non-muslims,

(2) we should not be wearing sandals. This I have actually thought about several times but hey, it is HOT here and no, I'm not sticking my feet in sweaty shoes just because the Mutaawa don't want my amazingly sexy toes showing and

(3) our hair should be covered.

So in 9 months that is my second run in with the Mutaawa and I have to say, even though I feel uncomfortable ---because I am expecting them to be rude and mean (probably because of what I have read and imagined before coming here)---they are not, they are polite and non-threatening.