Not being racist, but burka is wrong

This article was published in The Australian 28 January 2010

I confess that I once fell over on the job. In 2001, I was sent near the Pakistan border to interview fleeing Afghans and the local imam asked me to wear an extra-large faded blue burka in the refugee camp. I was taken to interview a woman who had lost five of her six children before managing to walk with her baby across the mountains to safety.

As she described the pain of losing four daughters and her only son, one by one, to mines, malnutrition and a motorcycle accident, I couldn't see her anguish. Until finally, from behind her burka, I heard a sob.

Stuck in my own diaphanous garment, I couldn't communicate, I couldn't even put an arm out or blink at her, so I stood up and waddled over. But I tripped, half-blind from the veil and we ended up sprawled on the ground together. I couldn't see her reaction, but then she started to giggle as we lay like two penguins, unable to stand up.