What to wear?

It is well know that most muslim women cover themselves, or at least parts of themselves. This piece of clothing, whether it involves a piece of fabric covering just the head, the head and the body, or also the face, has created some debate in Norway and elsewhere in the Western world. Before coming here, I was curious about how my own feelings towards the melheffa – the four meter long piece of colourful fabric worn by women here – would be.

Firstly; Saharawi women take pride in their melheffas. If you wear a green melheffa, you always wear a matching green jumper underneath. How they manage to always find things that match is a mystery to me, especially after having seen the market here... There is also fashion to consider, here as elsewhere. Light, bright colours are for young women, whilst darker shades of blue, red, and purple are for older women. Also, a melheffa with two or three different colours, alternatively batik patterns in are in fashion right now.

After coming here, I have bought two melheffas. The remaining ten I have been given from various families I have stayed with, or at dinner visits to friend's houses. Most of them are luckily quite nice, but I must admit that I have one or two that I still haven't worn and have no intention of wearing. No names or colours mentioned.

Fashion and taste aside; what is the significance of this piece of clothing? As my students explained to me, a good woman covers her body and head, including her arms (thus almost everyone wears long sleeved t-shirts underneath, regardless of the heat). Why? To protect themselves from the glances of men. As one of my students underlined; women are sexier than men. There seems to be some confusion as to whether the ko'ran demands that women cover themselves, whether it's interpreted this way, or whether it's cultural. I must admit that I don't know myself either. Regardless, here in the camps the melheffa carries both religious and cultural connotations.

Sahrawis are very proud of their melheffas. Time and time again it is mentioned that no one else wears the melheffa like the Saharawis; the Mauritanians wear it in a similar way, but not quite the same! It is, in short, part of their cultural identity. Yes, a mark of islam, but also something which stretches beyond religion as well as across the Moroccan wall of shame, and into the home country. For Saharawis, culture is serious business. It's what distinguishes them from other people; Algerians, Mauritanians, Spaniards – and most importantly Moroccans.

This is a reason why for me, as a self-declared secular feminist (oh, what a stereotype!), it is possible to wear it. It is not only an attempt at integrating better into the society, but it is also an act of solidarity with the people here. In order to understand their situation, I try the best I can to live like them, and in this process, it has also become possible for me to wear the melheffa. That is not to say that I don't find it problematic from a feminist perspective, because I do. Not so much because of the religious demands in themselves, but because of the lack of gender equality in the reasoning and the thinking which seems to be the basis of these demands. Sexiness is relative. Women's beauty is no more “precious” and in need of protection than men's beauty. And so on...

Also, the fact that I wear it is no guarantee for integration in the society here – I still feel like I'm trying to fool people when I put it on. Of course, I don't fool anyone. Even from behind, the children in the streets are shouting at me in Spanish (or throwing rocks if I'm lucky). Even the way I walk is influenced by the cultural conditions I've grown up under! Also, some days are simply non-melheffa days. These are the days when I'm ill, it is too warm, or I simply don't feel like wearing it. Attempts at cultural integration is demanding. Some days I just want to sit in my room and listen to electronic music, read my (now rather old) Norwegian newspapers and send text-messages home. But this is part of the experience. Integration is difficult and demanding, and requires whole hearted attempts followed by small breaks. Nothing strange about this.

Back to the melheffa; most days, however, I don't even think about when I put it on. Some of my melheffas are easy to wear. The fabric is one which stays in place, they are not too long so that I have to hold it up with one hand in order to avoid falling over, and they keep me comfortably warm as the temperature drops at night. I like the colours. I like looking like the other women here; I am not like them, but I can try to understand them and their situation. Most days, the melheffa is just a small part of this attempt.