"I was halfway up a cliff in northern Oman when I realized I hadn't thought about my prosthesis in more than an hour-which, if you've ever worn one, you'll know is no small thing. The socket was slick with sweat against my thigh. The ridge of my liner had started to roll slightly, but not enough to make me stop. I'd already hiked for five hours that day and was now hauling myself-and my leg-up the blunt edge of a rock face."
"This wasn't my first solo trip. I'd wandered the alleyways of Jordan, roamed Istanbul, gotten lost on purpose in countless cities. I'd learned how to pack light, how to listen to my body, how to push it past the borders of comfort. Yet Oman was different. There was something elemental about it all: the land stripped to its bones, the quiet confidence of the men I'd found online to hike with, the challenge I'd set for myself."
Zainab climbs steep cliffs in northern Oman while wearing a prosthetic leg, reaching a point where she stops thinking about the limb. Sweat and a slightly rolled liner make the climb physically taxing after five hours of hiking, yet she pushes on, hauling herself and her leg up rock faces. A steel cable and dizzying drops test resolve, and adrenaline carries her beyond reasonable limits. Solo travel provides freedom from others' labels; she emphasizes being herself, not defined by disability. Prior solo trips across Jordan and Istanbul taught packing, body awareness, and the habit of challenging comfort; Oman felt elemental and uniquely demanding.
Read at Conde Nast Traveler
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