Veiled PAGE



Richard Peterson:

"Good morning, dear colleagues," I welcomed my MA's: Ulrike Schneider and Veronika Hochstetter. I was the head of the defence department 'Islamic Terrorism' Richard Peterson. These women worked undercover as investigators for the Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution in the Islamist milieu. Based on the fact that in a 'misogynistic' religious community women are underestimated and that it is an excellent camouflage to use women.

"Mrs Schneider, may I ask for your report?"

"Well, as you know, our focus is on the social sector, and that is not the most efficient area. All efforts on our part to get a job at Müller Immobilien have failed so far. We can only state that the Duisburg community is expanding; it will soon have outstripped the other NRW cities."

"God, these fucking politicians, why do I have to bother with this incompetent AfD proportion, the hollow space-sealed Schneider," I thought and said:

"That's fucking awful! We need some success; do you have any ideas?"

"The problem is our authenticity; there is no way around becoming more deeply integrated," said Mrs Hochstetter.

"I would think it would be an imposition to subordinate us even more deeply to these Muhallas", the Schneider protested.

"Mrs Schneider, we are here to defend the Basic Law against its enemies," I said and thought:

"Swallow, you dumb Nazi slut!"

"Please give me a constructive suggestion; subliminal racism won't get us anywhere, Mrs Schneider," I said. The Schneider swallowed, for she had absolutely no idea. In the right places, she had bitched about making this career. Seldom do you make a career with competency in the administrations. She was one of those examples: promoted by incompetents until she was there where she couldn't do anything but blame the others, AfD mentality.

"Well, then! I propose that we follow Mrs Hochstetter's suggestion. You have to expand your activities within the community, i.e. become more active in religious matters, which is the only way to penetrate besides the social sector." The Schneider again:

"Isn't it enough to walk around with these headscarves after work? Would you like to put me in a burqa?"

"If it must happen, yes. You work for the Office for the Protection of the Constitution, and you are an agent, a soldier in enemy territory. I don't have to tell you anything about camouflage." Callously and red in her face she kept silent, and the Hochstetter couldn't resist a small grin.

"Mrs Hochstetter, your suggestion please!"

" Exactly as you said, this is also my approach: Infiltration over the Madrasa. Officially, we are employed by the tax office. So we take a year off and become full-time Muslims. Two hours of social service are not enough. So we have to spend the whole day with them. I'm especially thinking of the Koran school. Here there are always opportunities to exchange ideas with the parishioners and build up confidence."

"Very nice, Mrs Hochstetter, I can deliver that to my superiors. Do you have any suggestions, Mrs Schneider?"

"No, that sounds quite reasonable," she said meekly and cursed inwardly. Mrs Hochstetter spoke again:

"I talked to the Imam there. It is Ibrahim Arslan, well known to us for his spectacular marriage with Anita Müller from 'Müller Immobilien'. I asked him without obligation for an apartment nearby, and he answered that there was no problem, even at short notice he could help and referred me to Mr Meiser. We know that the Imam is a Salafist, but neither in his statements nor his actions does he seem to belong to any terrorist groups."

"If you knew," I thought.

I was one of the growing ranks of frustrated public servants. The last state election made it almost impossible to work sensibly. The new government had re-positioned its people in all the relevant positions in the administrations and still dumped the few who were useful to the constitutional protection through their competence. I was about to retire early to find a new field of work outside the parties and administrations. However, that was when I met Ibrahim Arslan. I recognised his potentials at once. This man was visionary and highly intelligent, and the most important thing was that he hated terrorists like me. I was not interested in his religious ambitions. I only knew that this man would play an important role and that is what an agent considers so exciting. That his madrasah was not all kosher seemed evident to me since Anita Müller's fall. What exactly it is I was trying to find out with my agents.

They were my pawn sacrifices, for Hochstetter I felt a little sorry, for the Schneider I sh... a big pile.

"I wish that you would go separate ways, i.e. you, Mrs Schneider, will be with Mr Meiser from the Müller Immobilien from now on, rent an apartment and participate intensively in all mosque activities whereas Mrs Hochstetter is for you the only contact with us. After three weeks we meet again to exchange ideas. Thank you, ladies, and have a nice day."

I left the conference room straight away.


The three Muslimahs:

Petra, Hanna and Julia sat in the women's wing of the Madrasa and had tea. To their regret, they no longer wore the Niqab veils, but, like their sisters here, they now wore the Turkish hijab styles. All the women assured them that they would like to be Niqabis too, but that would only attract attention outside the mosque, and that would be the last thing a good Muslimah would want. But the time was not yet right, and we still had to be patient.

However, the girls were in an excellent mood. They had forgotten their everyday life out there, and their world was the women's wing. Although many women were present, everything was quiet. Hardly anyone talked and if they did, then only whispering and briefly. Usually, you could hear a humming of the calm recitation of the Koran verses. Some, like our three girls, knelt silently on their pillows and enjoyed their peace of mind. There was hardly any noise from the kitchen, even though the food was prepared there. The girls held the holy Koran in front of each other on a low frame, and they read it together. A Niqaabi then came to the girls waving to follow her.

When they left the women's wing to see the first men, they stretched their headscarves deeper into their faces and held their heads down. All you could see was the tips of their noses from the side. They finally reached the Imam's flat and entered.

"Ass-Salaam-Alaikum, my friends, enter and sit down," said the Imam.

"Wa-Alaikum-Salaam." the girls hardly returned their greetings audibly. The Niqaabi pointed to a row of pillows, right next to the entrance. She and the girls took a seat there. The Imam was sitting with three teenagers in the armchairs and drinking tea. Hanna recognised them immediately and squealed in shock.

"Yes. Hanna or may I call you Kamila? We have caught the thugs. They feel very sorry and beg you to forgive them. The young men just nodded, then they continued to drink tea.

"That was it already, and you can leave." The women rose and returned to their women's wing. Hanna whispered:

"Did you hear what the Imam called me? Kamila that means perfection, such a beautiful name!" That the boys, who had mistreated her, drank tea with the Imam, she thought was completely alright. So why did she walk half-naked through the streets? No, she wanted to be a good Muslimah from now on and only show herself in public under the protection of the men and adequately dressed. Then the muezzin called for prayer. After the prayer, the Niqaabi came and picked up Petra.

In the entrance hall, her father and the Imam waited for her. Father and daughter hugged each other.

"Listen, child! Do you want to become a Muslimah? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you, because you had so many worries. Petras father said:

"If you wanted it, I would not stand in your way," he said. Gratefully she kissed his hand and touched it with her forehead.

"You may go now, Samira," he said and chuckled. She walked radiantly and whispered:

"My name is Samira."

Eventually, the Niqaabi came to fetch Julia. She sat down with Julia in the entrance hall at a place reserved for women, and they waited there. Then finally after a felt eternity, he came. Roger:

"Ass-Salaam-Alaikum, Amber, my father and I brought your mother to the Madrasah. There they will take good care of her. Free her from her alcoholism, and soon she will belong to us."

"What a capable and caring man my dearest Roger is. He takes care of everything."

" You, Amber, will live here with your mother till you have passed your Abitur and exercise with your mother in the duties of a good Muslimah." Amber and the Niqaabi rose. She took his hand, kissed it and spoke:

"I am grateful for my new name and how much you are helping my family. I will learn to become a good Muslimah and perhaps if you wish, a good wife to you", then she moved his hand to her forehead and hurried back to the shelter of the women's wing.