Al-Fukhari, Gaza Strip – It is a garment that the world has perhaps become accustomed to seeing Palestinian women in Gaza wear as they flee for their lives, hug their murdered children or loved ones for a final goodbye, or are running frantically through hospital corridors in the hope of finding their loved ones. injured, not dead.
Muslim women will recognize this as a prayer cover-up, known as “isdal” or “toub salah”, and this is what women and girls have lying around them in the most difficult times caused by the current Israeli war against Gaza.
An isdal can be a single piece that covers the entire body except the face or two pieces with a skirt and veil that covers the wearer beyond the hips. Every practicing Muslim woman’s household has at least one, an essential item at all times.
In addition to prayer time, a veiled woman may don this garment to open the door when male guests arrive without notice – or even if they simply run around the corner to buy something or go out to chat with a neighbour.
A war companion
The isdal is a comfortable item to throw over anything a woman is wearing if she has to leave the house in a hurry and stay modest.
But during the war, Palestinian women wear it 24 hours a day, at home or outside, asleep or awake, because they have no idea when a bomb will hit their house and they will have to flee, or worse.
“If we die when our house is bombed, we want to regain our dignity and modesty. If we are bombed and need to be rescued from the rubble, we don’t want to be rescued without wearing anything,” says Sarah Assaad, 44.
Sarah lived in Zeitoun, eastern Gaza City, and was moved to al-Fukhari school with her three daughters and two sons, all teenagers.
She adds that the isdal is worn 24 hours a day by terrified women and girls at the school, which is full of displaced people.
“I have three, my daughters each have at least one. We have become accustomed to it over the past 17 years of different Israeli attacks. When the first missile falls on Gaza, we put on our isdals. »
Raeda Hassan, fifty-six, from eastern Khan Younis, says she has kept her isdal close throughout the many wars Gaza has endured, to the point that, she adds, she sometimes doesn’t like seeing it because it reminds her of violence.
“The first thing I will do after the war is to get rid of it and buy another one so that I no longer remember the suffering of the war,” Raeda said, pointing to her isdal.
She is also at school with her daughters and daughters-in-law, all of whom are wearing their isdal.
In fact, Sarah says, isdal is so ubiquitous that girls who are too young to pray or wear the veil still demand that their mothers buy them isdals.
The girls from Sahar Akar are only four and five years old, but they wanted isdals so they could look like their cousins and the older girls they saw around them.
Sahar, 28, fled Gaza City with his family to the southern Gaza Strip.
‘You never know what could happen’
Raeda thought for a moment, then exclaimed, “I don’t know where everyone gets this idea that we’re somehow ready to be bombed.”
“First of all, what does this mean? Are you ready to see your home, your history, your memories destroyed? Who the hell is to say this is something you should prepare for?
“We don’t know where the bombs will fall, or which house will be destroyed. We keep this isdal on so we can run and get our kids if they stray too far. We wear it when we run to our neighbors to see if they are okay after a bombing.
“If I see my daughters or any of the women in the family without their isdal, I tell them to put it on, you never know what could happen.”
Salma, Raeda’s 16-year-old daughter, sits nearby, nodding vigorously and dressed in her isdal. She remembers the day in early September when she and her mother went to the Shujayea market and she spotted a “cute” isdal that she had to have, and Raeda bought it for her.
“I really like it and I like wearing it because it reminds me of that day when we walked around the market and had so much fun,” she adds.
“When we fled, I was wearing pants and a shirt but I took my isdal with me so I could pray. Once we got here and I saw how crowded it was and how every woman was wearing an isdal, I thought I should keep mine on at all times.
“It’s sad because prayer blankets also have happy associations, a crisp and colorful new veil for Eid prayers, even an isdal hastily thrown on to wait for your kids to jump off the school bus and tell you their day. It was all wasted,” Salma continues.
For many other women who spoke to Tel Aviv Tribune, isdal conveys mixed feelings, a symbol of panic in the streets as well as calm moments of prayer and reflection.
In times of war, the simple act of covering one’s head became fraught with a deep weight of sadness.
