By Khadijah Tijani
I was travelling from the UK to Nigeria with a layover in Paris, France, that year. As a “Black” Muslim woman who wears the niqab, I was highly apprehensive to say the least. I remember making a post on my Facebook wall a few days before my departure, asking if anyone had felt just as apprehensive as I, considering the strict Muslim bans in France, including that of the niqab. It was reassuring to know that their international airports made exceptions.
I don’t usually travel without my husband and/or children but, unfortunately, I had to go solo due to the circumstances at the time. To be honest, I, low-key, enjoyed the “me-time” in the sky. Travelling together with the kids is always a big hassle. My loquacious 6-year-old son doesn’t stop fighting with his 2-year-old brother, and I have to keep an eye on their 10-year-old sister to make sure she doesn’t watch unwholesome content on in-flight entertainment.
As I was travelling on a low budget, a business or first class ticket was totally out of the question. Even the economy class was expensive at the time because it was the peak of the summer holidays. However unpleasant I had expected my travel to be, it got worse before it got better.
D-day came when the flight was fully booked with not a single person wearing the hijab except I. I couldn’t even find any “Muslim-ish” guy around. Unperturbed by the glances from people of different colours and perhaps, different faiths or non-faiths, I moved straight to the window seat I had secured earlier. I fastened my seat belt and faced the window in readiness to see a clear view of the skies, سبحان الله.
However, I missed my husband. If I could have hired someone to stay with the kids for that period, I would have loved my husband to travel with me. Besides, that’s the sunnah. So, there I was, wishing that the person coming to sit next to me would either be my husband or a female.
A few seconds later, a tall, dark man, without uttering a word, plopped right down next to me. I wasn’t sure why he kept mute, but I am no fan of small talk either. So I kept quiet, too. He fastened his seat belt as instructed, blocked his ears with the headphones provided and tucked his neck in a travel pillow. We took off smoothly and the air hostesses started serving our meals.
I was served before my neighbour and as I was already famished, I started eating immediately. The hostess, a middle-aged, “white” lady, came back to serve the man beside me, but something unexpected happened.
The air hostess politely asked the man to follow her to an empty seat, elsewhere, so that I could feel free to eat my food. The man smiled at me for the first time and followed the lady.
I thanked him for being considerate and thanked the lady for being kind. I finished my food and stretched my legs across the two seats to have a nice sleep, because the man never came back!
We often hear stories of hijabis who were treated badly in public spaces. We get furious and take to social media to rant about it. However, it is refreshing to know that there are still people in the world who understand our preferences and treat us with the right dose of respect, or even a little more!
About author
Khadijah Tijani is a Nigerian medical doctor, a creative blogger and a published author. She grew up in Ibadan, Oyo State and graduated from the College of Medicine at the University of Ibadan in 2009. After five years of practice in Nigeria, she relocated to Saudi Arabia where she worked as a resident physician in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology. Known as “Doctor KT,” Tijani is a women’s health advocate and a prolific health blogger for her own blog, www.askdoctorkt.com. She also runs an online platform, known as “Breastfeeding Support Lounge,” where she supports mothers towards achieving their breastfeeding goals. Tijani is the published author of “Wholesome Motherhood,” “Nature’s Superfood,” and “The Stampede: Tales of Love, Trials and Faith.”
Twitter @askdoctorkt
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