She wore a white labcoat and a hijab, a black scarf on her hair. Because her face was exposed, he averted his gaze, blushing as he did so. Uncertain where to rest his eyes, he let them fall on the plastic ID tag that hung around her neck; Katya Hijazi, Laboratory Technician. He was surprised to see her first name on the tag - it should have been as private as her hair or the shape of her body - and it made her seem defiant.
Worried that the older man might think he was staring at her breasts, Nayir dropped his gaze to the floor, catching sight of two shapely feet ensconced in bright blue sandals. He blushed again and turned away from her, trying not to turn completely but just enough to indicate that he wouldn't look at her.
The woman's shoulders drooped slightly, which seemed to indicate that she'd noticed Nayir's discomfort and was disappointed by it. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a burqa, draped it over her face, and fastened the Velcro at the back of her head.
I don't like to read books set in a culture I know nothing about. Maybe I don't want to be disturbed in my lazy ignorance. Fortunately, I happened to pick up The Night of the Mi'raj by Zoë Ferraris and was too intrigued to put it down again.
I have seldom read a murder mystery so well written. I was thrown right into daily life in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, with its unforgiving heat, ordinary people with ordinary lives and strangely paranoid attitudes towards women. It made me feel almost at home, at the same time as I felt the terrible claustrophobia of being a woman there. Delicately written.
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