I wanted to protest

by Pita Klaassen (Netherlands)

Making a local connection Egypt

I couldn’t tell him his wife wasn’t his property, because, apparently, she was. Every fibre of my being wanted to protest. Tell him that he was wrong. Explain to him that, according to gender equality law, men and women are supposed to be treated equally. That such a thing as having a woman as your property was something completely unknown to my Eurocentric twenty-first century mind. I wanted to convince him that it wasn’t right to have any woman, let alone your wife, as your property. He should understand that, right? We met in Egypt. He invited us into his small shop for tea and showed us his collection of different herbs and oils. It was extremely hot, so it was a nice change of pace to be in an airconditioned environment. We were intrigued by the various medicinal benefits these ingredients could bring about. For example, hibiscus. This little plant could be used to make tea. The warm tea was supposed to be good for people with a low blood pressure. Apparently, those with a high blood pressure should drink it cold, which was something I could benefit from. We went back to him the next day for more tea, but mostly more conversation. He told us about his life there. His shop was recently set up and he spent all his days there, for months. He usually left around midnight to drive home, which was a small town a couple hours inland by car. However, every couple months he was able to go to his actual home, which was in a city a couple hundred kilometres south. His wife and child lived there. During our conversations he was quite often called by his wife, but he never answered. He ignored the call and kept telling us stories about the customs of Egypt. A recurring theme was the role of the men and women. This included the difference between us, as European women, as opposed to Egyptian women. Aside from his Egyptian wife, he had also had 10 European wives. Indeed, he wasn’t unaware of the world outside of Egypt. He had travelled and spoke several languages (aside from Arabic) such as English, German, French, and Russian. He even apologised that he wasn’t able to speak Dutch to us. A couple days later, during another one of our conversations, he referred to us as lucky. We were women who were free. Women who could travel and had their own agency. He said he respected and even admired us for being free. We shouldn’t take our freedom for granted and enjoy the fact that we were able to study and work and choose our own career paths. Contrarily, his Egyptian wife was not allowed to leave their home without his consent. Even when he was a couple hundred kilometres away, she still had to call him and ask for permission to go to the market. The times when he was at home and he invited guests over, she had to go to a different room. Together with the other women in the house they basically had to hide, and they weren’t allowed to talk. No one was allowed to see them or even hear them speak. The freedom he admired us for, was something his wife would never be able to enjoy. That was how it was supposed to be, according to Ahmed. She had to obey him and always follow his rules, because she was his property. I wanted to protest. I wanted to make it clear to this 40-year-old man that he was incorrect. That it could not be true that he had a wife, who was his property. But I didn’t, out of respect. Reluctantly, I kept quiet and listened. He continued by explaining that he provided for his wife, he worked to take care of her and their child. He provided, and in exchange, she obeyed. I asked him what he thought was a better way of living for women – either free (such as myself) or bound to their husbands (such as his wife)? He seemed reluctant to give me an answer. So, I asked him again later. He never provided me with an answer.