Veiled PAGE




Hours later a man accompanied by Petra entered the room.

"Hello, Hanna! I sincerely hope you feel better. My name is Ibrahim. I am the Imam of this mosque and director of the Koranic school. I brought some tea. You think we can talk now?" I just nodded. Then Petra poured me tea, and although she was completely veiled, I recognised her straightaway.

"What happened is a disgrace to my community! We will severely penalise the boys, and it will be a void to them. But no one can relieve you from the humiliation and pain you have suffered. So what do you intend to do?"

"I do know I should report them. However, if the boys get punished and they apologise to me, I don't want to report them."

"You are very generous. You need to know that if it became official, the whole community would suffer. So you know the reports about us in the newspapers?"

"I want to become a journalist and have studied Marxloh in depth, and I dislike the way some people in Germany treated the immigrants. I have followed Petra as her behaviour suddenly has changed so dramatically that it has aroused my journalistic interest. But I never thought that she would travel to Marxloh and I would find her there deeply veiled."

"It has been late into the night, and I would ask you to stay overnight. I'll bring you back tomorrow.", Ibrahim said. There was something in me that immediately wished to go home, but I also didn't accept my strains for anything. After all, I could learn more about the people here. Probably the contacts I was able to establish here will have been useful for my future profession.

"I would like to spend the weekend here and that you show everything to me. It is a small compensation from you for my suffering." Ibrahim laughed loudly and said:

"You are damn tough. Each other woman would disappear as soon as she could. Stay as long as you want. Be my guest. Except then I must have asked you to disguise yourself for the duration of your stay here."

"All right, if I cannot avoid it. Then maybe I can get something to eat, I'm dying of hunger," she asked.

" Now Samira will take care of you. I want to go to bed now. Good night, Hanna. And then he left.

"For God's sake! I have to call my mother and Julia," I said.

"I have already informed them. Here, your mobile phone. It survived the attack on you pretty well," said Samira, Petra.

"Thank you, Petra or what is your name now?"

"Petra! Samira will be my name after my conversion to Islam when I have spoken the Shahada. Please do not be confused about my niqab. I am wearing it for the first time and only for training purposes. You should know that I spend my weekends here in the madrasah to devote myself to the study of the Koran and to get to know the Islamic way of life. But I am still Petra to you! There is only one thing I would like to ask you: do not question me in religious matters, I do not want to say anything wrong, and by the way, I practice myself in silence. Here I raise my voice only to praise Allah, so from now on answer you only in writing," Petra said.

"Madrasa, niqab and so on, what is the meaning of all this," I asked confusedly.

"It's best to eat first and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, I'll explain everything to you," she wrote on display and handed it to me for reading. "Okay, I'm hungry and tired. I guess you're right."

I awoke from a deep, restful sleep. The pain from my injuries had disappeared. I got up to look at myself in a mirror. It was a miracle all the swellings and bruises were gone. And then Petra already entered my room. She took me in her arms in silence and rubbed her forehead against my forehead. Then it occurred to me that Petra did not want to speak.

"So, now what is going to be happening to me" I wanted to know. Petra pressed a button on her display and a second black ghost entered the room. They took me to the bathroom. They undressed me and rubbed me with an oleander-scented paste, and then I was allowed to shower. I saw my body hair flowing down the drain. When I touched my skin, a pleasant shower came down with moderate intensity. My skin felt soft and silky, and with a mischievous smile I thought:

" If this day continues so fantastically, I could convert without a hitch". Wrapped in a thick terry towel, I left the bathroom later to be dressed by the women.


They handed me black panties reaching up to my calves and over my navel. A shirt, also black, with long sleeves and reaching from the neck to the hips, followed. Next came a black headscarf, which only left my face. Then they handed me black gaze thick socks. The gloves were pulled over the gauntlets so that I was dressed entirely in black except for my face. The next garment was an overhead abaya with butterfly sleeves. To prevent the sleeves from slipping up, I had to pull the loops attached to the envelope of the abaya over the respective middle finger. This effectively stopped the sleeves from slipping up. Petra showed me a niqab. With a quiet nod, I indicated to her that I was ready for the niqab. My blue eyes disappeared forever behind a black veil. The Khimar then followed, and I was completely veiled. It got hot under all my clothing, but somehow it wasn't that strange. I felt comfortable wearing them.

"Oh dear! It feels awesome. I hope I wasn't born to be a barn owl" I thought. It was meant to be ironic but sounded like it was. I was standing with the women in front of a mirror. I saw, except for the differences in size, three completely identical black ghosts and found it all good and beautiful and exciting. Yes, I felt somehow safe and happy. Why? I was not able to explain it to myself.

"Anyway! I am going to spend a weekend among these friendly persons here, and I am deeply veiled," I thought. They handed me a display on which I read:

"Please use this display and try to be silent." So for the first time, I used a display to communicate with others.

"Thank you very much for your care. I will be silent with you," I wrote. I quickly forgot my doubts, and I shared with my sisters, because as such I now considered them confusingly, one weekend long, for the life of a devout Muslimah.

-- She couldn't know that she was permanently exposed to the gas, like all new women who stayed in the madrasah overnight. The dosage was deliberately very low. Because the rapid transformation of Anita Müller had caused quite a stir a year ago. Today, the procedure was much slower and more targeted. A permanent sprinkling also led to the goal. --