An Insight

 By: Habiba Ghanem                                    

               

                “There have been a few changes to the delegations,” Mr. Fata proclaimed as he entered the classroom. Mr. Fata, a short, thin teacher in his mid twenties was sporting a goatee. Many students gave him a hard time and didn’t take him seriously. Mr. Fata walked to the far left of the room and started writing on the whiteboard. Our Model United Nations club sat patiently waiting for him to finish. He wrote down the three countries that our club would be representing at the MUN conference in Ankara, Turkey.  Under each country he wrote down our names. The changes to the groups were very minor but I noticed my name was now under Sudan instead of the Democratic Republic of Congo. As we stared at the whiteboard, Mr. Fata explained his reasoning behind the change. “Turkey is a secular country; which means that it is not affiliated to a certain religion.”  

“Ok, but what does that have to do with us?” someone asked him.

Mr. Fata hesitated before he answered the question. “There is a law in Turkey which doesn’t allow veiled girls to go in schools, colleges, and government- associated work places,” he said. My jaw dropped. The majority of Turks were Muslim, how could such a law exist?  I was the only veiled girl in our group. Questions and thoughts jumbled through my head. Mr. Fata wasn’t done speaking. “The recently elected President would like to change that law, and allow veiled girls their freedom to go about in those prohibited areas, without having to take off their veils or wear hats. The voting on the amendment is to take place during the week of the conference.”

His words slapped me across the face. I was going to be a problem. “What is going to happen to me, Mr. Fata? What am I going to do?” I said. My voice was shaking. I had already paid for the ticket. My friends Maya, Heidy, Chaima, Sara, Nassar, Ashiry, Osama, Alaa and Nour and I were excited about going.

                “The people in charge of Model United Nations in Turkey talked to me and assured me that they aren’t discriminating against you. However, the conference is during a time in which heated debates about the situation of the new amendment will be taking place. They fear that your entrance to the public university in which the conference is to be held, wearing a head scarf might cause a stir. If the press snaps any pictures of you it will attract unwanted attention to the university and the university doesn’t want to be held responsible for making any political statements.”

It seemed as if wasn’t going to Turkey. I felt a frown form on my face. Mr. Fata wasn’t done speaking, I held my breath as he said, “I talked to the people in charge of MUNTR and proposed that you become a delegate of Sudan. As part of their cultural customs the Sudanese women cover their hair and they have agreed that you can too.” My stomach muscles relaxed. Finally after a string of bad news I was able to breathe again. As a representative of Sudan I could wear my veil.

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                A few days later, while I was sitting finishing up my English work.  Mr. Fata told me that the heads of MUNTR were still uneasy about me entering the university in my hijab. He had sent them a picture of me so that they could see how I wore my hijab. In the picture, I was wearing a green and brown striped sweater, a dark pair of jeans, my black aviator shades, and a green hijab wrapped around my face covering my ears and neck. I didn’t have time get mad at Mr. Fata for not asking me before he sent my picture, I wanted to know if they were going to allow me to enter the conference or not. They agreed that I wore my hijab differently then Turkish girls did, but they said it was still too similar. There were only a few days left before the conference.

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                My situation became a topic of heated debate. Teachers had known of my issue before I did, and had been trying to give Mr. Fata advice on how to handle it. They were also discussing whether I should go to the conference or not. My math teacher Mrs. Nanice told me bluntly that if her daughter was put in my situation she wouldn’t have the heart to let her go. Mrs. Nanice was a tall woman with a very nice figure. A hijab was wrapped around her beautiful oval face, accentuating her big dark brown eyes. I said, “I lived in the States, Mrs. Nanice. I decided to wear hijab in the States and no one discriminated against me. Turkey is a country with a majority of Muslims. I don’t think I will have much trouble there.” In the back of my mind, I still couldn’t grasp how a country with a lot of veiled girls and a majority of Muslims could have such a law.

                In Turkey there had also been arguments about me entering the university. Mr. Fata informed me that one of the organizers of MUNTR threatened to leave the conference if they didn’t let me enter. He not only threatened to leave the conference but he also had a relative working in the government that he would inform of such an unfair act. Upon hearing that I couldn’t help but smile and my happiness turned in to fits of giggles. At least one person in Turkey had my back.

                My grandma’s cousin, who worked at the Egyptian embassy in Turkey, had offered to send body guards to protect me as I entered and departed the university. In a short time I sparked many controversies.                                                           
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                About a week before we were supposed to travel, I was sitting on grey bleachers, in a crowded school gym, watching my friend’s brother play a basketball game, while enjoying the music blasting from my headphones. I received a call from Mr. Fata. He broke the news to me that in a couple of hours the secretary general of MUNTR would call me about my situation. My heart felt like it would jump out of my sweater. What was he going to tell me? How was I supposed to respond? I attempted to forget about the phone call and enjoy the game.

                After the game ended, my sister Mariam, our friend Nada, and I were climbing, the escalators at City Stars Mall, when my phone started to ring. I glanced at the screen and instantly knew that it was the phone call that I was dreading.

                “Habiba?” a deep voice asked.

                “Yes, this is she,” I said. He introduced himself, but I couldn’t catch his name because of the insane amount of noise that was coming from the people strolling around the mall. He briefly explained to me the situation taking place in Turkey. I listened patiently struggling to catch his words.

                “Veiled girls who don’t want to take off their hijab when they are at work or at school wear hats instead,” he said. He suggested that I do the same. Nooo, I thought to myself, I don’t want to take of my veil off and I don’t want to wear a hat either.

                “I am not sure that I would be comfortable doing something like that,” I said. He understood, but he told me once again that veiled girls wear hats that cover their hair. I held the phone to my ear not sure of what to say. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he spoke again.

                “Habiba, are you still there?”

                “Yes I am.”

                “Look, I know this is a tough decision, but we would really love to have you at the conference. Take your time thinking things through. When you make a decision, tell Mr. Fata and he will inform us.”

After we hung up, I spotted my sister Mariam in her purple and light pink sweater, and purple veil, and Nada in her green sweatshirt. They were sitting on one of the tables enjoying their lunch. They had also been eyeing me the whole time trying to figure out what was going on. As I was walking over to the table I noticed the heat that had ignited from my usually pale face. Calm down, I thought to myself.

“What happened?” they both eagerly asked. I started explaining but my phone rang. It was Mr. Fata asking me about the phone call. I explained to him what happened and I told him that if I was going to have to wear a hat to the conference that I wouldn’t be going. I also called my parents to explain to them what happened and they both agreed with my decision. Awhile later, my mom talked to Mr. Fata and they had reached a solution. She suggested to him that I wrap my scarf differently. I would wrap it like a bandana around my head barely covering my ear, and I would have to wear a high neck shirt to cover my neck. In Egypt we call that style the Spanish style. Mr. Fata and the organizers of MUNTR had welcomed the idea, but I felt that if I was going to go to the conference I was going to wear my hijab the way I usually wear it. To me the new scarf solution was just the same as wearing the hat.        

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    A couple days after the phone call from the Secretary General of MUNTR, I was sitting in class. The bell rang signaling the end of the school week. I spotted Mr. Fata as I was gathering my belongings from my locker.

                “Mr. Fata, I said, the plane takes off in two days, am I going to be on that plane?”

                “Yes, you are.”

                “Am I going to enter the conference, wearing my hijab the way I usually wear it?”

                “Yes Habiba, don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine,” he assured me.

                “Fine Mr. Fata, I guess I will see you in Turkey.

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                                Once in Turkey, I started to calm down. Our group was welcomed by a pale white guy with light eyes and soft brown hair. He was the height of a professional basketball player and his name was Selim. Selim took us to the massive black bus and as we walked out of the airport, I was glad that I had brought a jacket with me because the weather was much colder then it was in Egypt. On the bus, my stomach started to flutter. We were on our way to the hotel and I wasn’t sure how people would feel about me. Maya, Heidy, Chaima, and Sara understood that I was nervous and they decided to help me out. They moved the scarves that they were wearing around their necks to their heads. I flashed a smile at their thoughtful actions and felt at ease once more. The bus had come to a halt and we stepped out of it and entered the hotel. None of the people at the hotel said anything to us and I started to enjoy the fact that I was in Turkey. After we checked in and put our luggage in the room, we grabbed a bite to eat.                                                                                     ▪

                The next morning, we all got up and dressed in our formal clothes, had a fast breakfast, and rode a bus that took us to the university where the conference was to take place. As I entered the university I expected someone to stop me from entering, but no such thing happened. When we got inside however, Selim came to talk to me. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding. The organizer that we thought threatened to quit if they didn’t let me enter, had threatened to quit if I DID enter. He wasn’t happy to see me in the conference wearing my hijab and sent Selim to talk to me. As I had listened to what Selim was saying, a throbbing in my head occurred.

                “I am sorry but I am going to have to ask you to go to the bathroom and wear your veil in the style that we had agreed on,” he said in his soft voice.

                Trying to keep my voice from cracking, I said, “But I thought it was ok for me to wear it this way, Mr. Fata told me that it was ok for me to wear it normally.” Selim listened to what I said, left for a few minutes to discuss with the guy that didn’t approve of me and then came back.

                “You can wear your veil this way but only for today,” Selim said. In shock I nodded my head and fought the tears that stung my eyes.

                “I am going to go back to Egypt,” I informed my group. My sympathizing group complained and told me that if I was leaving so were they. Their sweetness was overwhelming and I managed to smile and insisted that they stay. Heidy, a light brown wavy haired group member, with a very spunky personality had only come to this trip for the shopping. She suggested that we all skip the conference and go shopping. We all managed to laugh but I still insisted on leaving. Meanwhile, our chaperone Mrs. Amy a short haired blonde in her late forties, had been talking to the Honorable Chair of my council. He clarified to her that I was allowed to come in the conference wearing my hijab the way that I pleased.  He had also told her that if anyone even thought about criticizing me that I should go straight to him and he would take care of the problem at once. Moreover, in case the press decided to drop by and take pictures of the conference, they would send an usher to escort me out of the room until the situation was taken care of because they didn’t want to cause the university any problems.

                After hearing the good news I let out a sigh of relief. The tears that I had fought back disappeared. I was able to enjoy the opening ceremony with no worries. That same day, during lunch time I even saw veiled students walking around campus!

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                The week spent in Turkey was one of the greatest weeks of my life. Not only was the trip fun, but I met new people, and I learned a lot. At the end of the conference a girl came up to me and said that she loved the way that I wore my hijab and that I should start a business in Turkey so the Turkish girls could wear their veil the way that I do. Another delegate sent me an email explaining to me that even though we didn’t get to talk she thought I looked pretty in my hijab. The honorable chair always came to check on me during the conference to make sure that no one bothered me.

                I grew up in an environment where I was free to practice my religion the way that I pleased. I realized that what I had to go through for a few days other people go through all their lives.

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