Veiled PAGE



Klaus Böhm:

After work, off home. I thought about the changes in my family life. What has changed and what else can change? Which people from outside are involved? What are the interests behind all this? I noticed two people. The first is undoubtedly the Imam and the second can only be Peterson. The Imam logically wants to proclaim his Islam, but how could he have been so successful with my wife and daughter? What does Peterson know? I have a feeling that he wants to stall me. Well then, first I have to take care of Rita and Kamila, my damn beloved child. I stand in front of my front door and have to collect myself again before I face a black ghost that used to be my Rita. I entered and did not greet a black phantom, but a woman in an exquisite, long dress and a pretty, colourful headscarf. It was, thank God, my Rita.

"Welcome, dearest, had you had a nice day?" she asked me and took my briefcase. "I think I exaggerated a bit this morning. I was too carried away by my enthusiasm for Islam. Can you forgive me again?" I took her in my arms and said:

"At least I can recognise you now. Let's have something to eat now, and after that, we'll have a cup of coffee and talk about everything, okay?" She didn't take me to the kitchen, as usual, but to the lounge. She had re-furnished it. There was a comfortable area with sofas and low tables, a very bright dining area with room for maybe fifteen guests. Now I saw that large parts of the kitchen and the hallway were fed into the living room through newly drawn walls.

"What happened here?"

"I had the house more adapted to our needs. The entire ground floor is now reserved for the men. The women's wing is now upstairs on the first floor, from where I can reach the kitchen unseen via a staircase."

"All right, that'll come later, and I want to eat now."

"Sit down, please, I'll bring it to you." I sat down at the table, and while she was rumbling around in the kitchen, I had time to inspect the new living room. That had become good. It was big and very noble furnished, and it just seemed to wait for guests. Then she came with a trolley, stood to my left and served me. Already the smallest reference was enough and she gave me after or handed me the salt. One might think she had never done anything else. And I want to be damned. I liked it. I loved it very much. After I was fed up, I sat down in the new seating group, and she served me the coffee and brought me cigarettes and an ashtray. I was shocked that the idea of smoking in the house alone would have made her go crazy earlier. Then she disappeared into the kitchen. I suppose to eat something myself. I activated my stereo and sounded 80's punk until the walls were booming. Now my little Juppiewife would have come long ago, to turn off the juice of my equipment. But nothing happened, so I turned the sound back to a bearable volume and enjoyed my coffee and cigarette. There I saw on the table a small bell, and I rang, but nothing happened. Of course, loud music. I turned off the system and rang again. Immediately she came to me and gave me coffee.

"Forgive me that I didn't hear you directly, do you need anything else?"

"A clarifying conversation would be nice!"

"Please let me eat first and clean the kitchen."

"Yes, of course, I can have a look at the changes in the house." She hadn't had much changed. I greeted the girls in their rooms. As usual, Sophia's room was a disaster, while in Kamila's room I noticed a complete lack of furniture and jewellery. A small flat table with a few pillows, a box and a rolled up mattress was her whole interior. She had painted the room white. Our bedroom was just as bare, and I saw a hole in the floor. As I approached it, I saw a spiral staircase leading into the kitchen. And there I saw Rita at work.

"Listen, where's our bedroom?" I called down to her. She looked up at me and said:

"You're in the women's wing. Your bedroom is now on the ground floor." From the top, I saw into the kitchen now how small it was. For example, the dishwasher was missing because I saw her cleaning the dishes with her hands.

"I'm in the living room. Bring me another coffee when you're done with your work." It wasn't long before she brought me the coffee. She didn't sit on the sofa but knelt at my feet.

"Why don't you sit down with me," I asked.

"A woman must know her place," she replied. When I drank, she showed me all the structural changes. You should know that I have a very spacious house. The ground floor has an area of about 200 square meters and was now only furnished for my personal use. Everything was large and very luxurious. The craftsmen locked the basement.

"They will finish the conversion tomorrow, then you can go to the basement," she explained to me.

"Please, I never want to see you in those black clothes again and now tell me what's wrong with you."

"It was Kamila's Shahada, I unconsciously said it. I was overcome with a wonderful feeling of happiness when I noticed it. I accepted Islam from the bottom of my heart. I hope that you will follow me soon."

"A week ago you might have laughed at me had I told you that you were converting to Islam."

"I know I'm a little scared too, but I've never been happier than I am now."

"I love you and repeat your decision. But please, no more black ghosts, okay."

"I want to do everything that makes you happy," she said, and I looked forward to the night with her.