Word: robing
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...India and Burma the young, amiable Emir displayed his sacred person freely to his grateful subjects. Some of his fighting men, overcome by awe, knelt before him to be blessed. Others begged to touch the hem of his robe or (when he wore a uniform) the cuffs of his well-creased trousers. Six Katsinans trekked four days & nights through the jungle to glimpse the red-fezzed head of their Emir. Sergeant Gombo Gombe ("Mr. Five by Five"), fattest front-line fighter in Burma, stripped to the waist to get his rifle immaculate enough to fire a royal salute...
...women, who had challenged the words of the Prophet, had traveled to Egypt by train and plane in search of emancipation. They were seated calmly, if a little self-consciously, in Cairo's ornate Royal Opera House. None wore the flowing charshaf (Moslem robe). Like Egypt's royal princesses, and other upper-class Moslem women, none hid her good looks behind a harem veil. Married delegates had discarded the Arabic word for wife aqila (the tethered one), in favor of qarina (partner). For some of the delegates this was the first congress their governments had ever allowed...
Then the parade of shiny automobiles swung off behind a noisy V of police motorcyles down Delaware Avenue, down Pennsylvania Avenue. A steady spatter of wet handclaps kept pace as jampacked thousands craned for a glimpse of the President, waving and smiling, with a lap robe pulled almost to his shoulders. Bands along the way thumped and blared, and at the sight of one in particular-the Marine Corps's only bagpipe band, home from service in Londonderry-the President turned and waved in evident appreciation...
...tree as a child to escape discipline. From that tree, he said, he saw his first torchlight parade from the village, at the time of Cleveland's election in 1892. "I got out of bed to come downstairs in an old-fashioned nightshirt-wrapped in a big buffalo robe...
...from the southern plateaus to the mountains in the north (just as their ancestors did thousands of years ago). I became chummy with the Khan of the tribe, one Fatula Poor Satib. He asked me to autograph something for him. And what do you think he pulled from his robe as he sat astride his big, white, handsome horse? Nothing else but a copy of TIME...