Woman in Canary Burqa by Charlotte Yeung
I flinch when the camera flashes, the light searing my eyes.
The man looks down at his camera and studies the picture before smiling. His pinkish skin
and button up shirt and jeans marks him as a foreigner. I met him only minutes ago; when my husband introduced us. He said that this man would like to take pictures of me wearing a burqa.
The burqa whispers across my skin. I glance around me, wondering what he sees. I’m sitting on a rich, red rug that seeps into the shadows. The dresses behind me are a cobalt blue that seems to drip onto the ground. My burqa is a jarring contrast. My husband and son didn’t want me to wear this but yellow, this canary shade, has always been my favorite color.
My husband whisks the man away for more tea. I changed out of my burqa and into something more casual. I go to the kitchen and take out some sugar-coated pistachios my son bought from the bazaar. I can hear my husband’s laugh echo from nearby as he urges the man to have more tea. I grab some biscuits I made earlier in the day and bring the food to them.
The man thanks me for posing and for the food. My husband keeps pouring tea. The man asks me if I’ve lived here my whole life. I open my mouth but my husband changes the subject. The man hands a pittance to us then departs. Later, after the rug and dresses are gone, I see my photo in a big magazine. He calls me a canary in a coal mine. When I learn the meaning, I sell my yellow burqa.
