"If I win the game of love – you are mine.
If you win – I am yours."
— Arabic proverb

Cherchez la Femme   written in 2003 after visiting OMAN           P R O L O G U E

Since I don't speak Arabic very well, I translated the wisdom from English—and unfortunately, English does not make the grammatical distinction (understand: gender) between man and woman that Czech or Arabic does. This proverb could very well (and probably does in the Arabic original) be spoken by a man — but for today's story about Muslim women in the Middle and Near East, this translation suits us just fine. Make no mistake:  Arab women are no angels.

"Sabah al-kheir, Izmi Jana" — صباح الخير، إزمي جانا   meaning "Good morning, my name is Jana" — I politely intrude with a smile toward three young Omani girls (perhaps sisters?) who are walking, beautifully dressed, across a large, empty, dusty square toward a mosque. The scene unfolds in a picturesque village called Quriat, about two hours' drive over mountains and desert from Muscat. The girls are heading to the last Ramadan prayer, for today is the end of the fasting month. The sun is setting, casting warm colors on their stunning robes and chocolate-toned skin.

I stand in the middle of the square like a Martian — in a pink hat, holding a tripod in my right hand, and with my left hand, facial expressions, and even my feet, continuing the conversation. Because I'm somewhat at a loss when it comes to Arabic. I try to stop the girls (which I succeed in doing) and use this moment for a photo session (which I fail at). The girls are curious, they understand what I mean, but they refuse. They glance toward the mosque, checking whether their brothers or father are spying on them. Occasionally they flick their eyes toward Paul, who is standing a few meters away pretending not to notice.

After about fifteen minutes of what is more emotional persuasion than insistence, they agree to stand as models for two quick shutter clicks. I ask them for their address so I can send them the pictures (how naive — the houses in their village do not have postal addresses) and so they write something in Arabic on a scrap of paper. As I later discover, they wrote that their hobby is working on the school computer.

"The whisper of a beautiful girl carries farther than the roar of a lion."