Six Months Later
The meeting with the 'young patriots' was very informative. I had brought my stepdaughter Samira with me. They had a lot of good ideas, and we also brought in our experiences. Most of them are normal Western-oriented teenagers who are sufficiently affected by the effects of the Hartz4 dilemma. I believe that their dynamics will also give my young people more incentive. Their anger could be felt everywhere in their statements. We have agreed to hold the next meetings in our madrasah for reasons of space. The prospect of being supported by the Brotherhood in their professional career was great. So we separated and looked forward to seeing each other again soon.
"You, Mama, where we are just in the proximity, let us still visit the Arslan. Jenny now has her own apartment, and I have to see that and Selima will be happy to see you again." When she called me Mama, my heart opened. That I could be loved after a shitty life, full of hate, but again so loved, for that I will thank Allah forever. Samira was interested in Ruband and less in Jenny's apartment. But what the hell? A little small talk with Selima over a cup of tea just came in handy. I texted her:
"I'm close with Samira. Would love to visit you, okay?"
"I am happy" she replied. We made our way and when we arrived at the back door after five minutes, Selima and Jenny, both veiled beyond recognition, were already waiting for us. They asked us to come in, and we went straight into the women's wing. There they got rid of their ruband and gloves, and we greeted each other extensively.
"Jenny, do you always wear Ruband now?" Samira asked.
"My name is now Gadi and me converted. Yes, I always wear my Ruband outside the women's wing," she said.
"You lucky girl! We members of the Brotherhood are not allowed to cover our faces anymore for political reasons," I said with some melancholy."It serves a higher purpose, so let's not complain!"
"Sit down, my dear friends, and have some tea," Selima challenged us.
"I'm curious about Jenny's, I mean Gadis Apartment. Do you care if I go to her room with Gadi?" Samira asked.
"No, go ahead. You would only be bored with us," Selima said.
Gadi and Samira:
Samira said, "This is a nice apartment!"
"Not really! You won't believe how pretty my Ruband are" Gadi teased and both laughed knowingly.
"Go to the closet and serve yourself," she said. Samira would not have had that said twice. She took one after the other and was thrilled.
"Not one is like the others, and everyone can see that only you could have made them. You have an incredible talent," Samira said.
"What do you say, should I try on the green one or the salmon one? The green is beautiful, but the salmon has such a subtle pink, and the white rhinestones somehow make it special." When Gadi handed her matching gloves, Samira felt like she was in heaven.
"Come on, put it on and then we'll go down to the women's." And again Samira disappeared to make room for a new, exotic creature. Like a ghost, she floated to the women in the living room. Both women lost their spit when they saw this majestic appearance. Selima caught herself first and asked:
"Gadi, darling, did you sew this? It's incredibly beautiful! When did you do that?"
"At night, when everyone was asleep. I'm happy when you like my work." Selima said:
"Grab your Ruband, we have to show it to Murad." They went downstairs, and Selima shouted:
"Murad, please come once. I want to show you something."
"What is it? Oh, we have visitors, welcome Aleyna and who is the lady in this incredibly beautiful robe?"
"It's me, Samira, Aleyna's daughter."
"I greet you too, Samira. Selima, what is so special?"
"Don't you see it? Take a closer look at the Ruband. It is a dream", Selima said.
"You're right, on closer inspection, it's something special. Who was the artist?"
"Gadi has spent the nights and created this work of art.", Selima said.
"Samira, please go up and down. It seems as if the veil changes with every movement." Murad said.
"Fantastic, did you sew any more ruband?"
"She has at least ten others in her apartment," Samira said to her.
"I want to see them all. We do a catwalk. If you like it? Join in, Aleyna." he said. The women disappeared and then ran up one by one to Murad, who gave them instructions on what movements to make. When he had seen everything, he said:
"Every Ruband is different and yet I recognise the handwriting of an artist. Gadi you are blessed with a fantastic gift, praise Allah." Everything turned out to be too much for Gadi. She ran into her room. Samira said:
"Poor thing, maybe that was a little too much at once. I took care of her" and left. Strangely touched, the women and Murad sat down and waited patiently. Then they came back.
"Sorry, but I only tailored Ruband as I thought they should look. I felt somehow run over by your enthusiasm. I don't believe my little work is so unique? I would be happy if I could give each of you women a Ruband. The salmon-coloured one is reserved for Samira, though! Aleyna and Selima kept the one they already had on. Samira jumped on Gadi and hugged her hard. Then she ran up to secure her treasure.
Then it was time for Aleyna and Samira to leave. They promised to meet again soon, and then they moved.
Now I've been working as a tailor for Murad Arslan for almost a year. I have found my destiny. His wife Selima, my boss and best friend are full of praise. The order book is full to the brim. There have been ten temporary workers working here for a few months now, and I now have a very well rewarded permanent position and have officially moved out of my home and have my residence at Arslan. - In order not to endanger my mothers' Hartz4 covers, such brainless pull-ups are unavoidable. Poverty here, like everywhere else, enjoys a certain 'esteem' from our authorities. -
Especially since I seem to be an artist by now, my Rubands are ordered internationally and practically presented as a special event at fashion shows. I'm very proud of it, but I'm only willing to make more models if my anonymity maintained. The work is straightforward for me. I make drawings and have the Ruband made before. I then put the finishing touches on them myself. I converted to Islam half a year ago and now call myself Gadi, i.e. my luck, and I am fully veiled in public, I wear a Ruband. Lizzie's enthusiasm about it is still limited today, and Sandra expressed some concerns; she said that I might exaggerate a little.
Funny! Every Friday they run dressed in hijab and abaya to the mosque for prayer and then spend the whole day in the madrasah.
"It's so good to relax once a week in prayer and then to meet our friends in the madrasah and above all everything is free," they said. They were right. When you live on support, you have little opportunity to enjoy yourself. No! they had already completely changed: Lizzy wasn't such a cry-baby anymore, who complained at every opportunity and Sandra lost more and more her aversions against the fellow men, she became friendlier and more sociable. Sandra's sarcasm gave way from time to time to an exquisite irony.
Ibrahim Arslan had indicated to my mother that various paralyses had already cured in the Brotherhood's Egyptian clinics. In Berlin a new clinic of the Brotherhood has just been opened and if she would like she could be examined there free of charge. When I told Murad about this at work, he offered to pay the travel expenses to Berlin. Like every afternoon after work, I made my way to my mommies. Carefully I put on my Abaya, fixed everything with my Ruband. After I had accurately controlled that no piece naked skin was to see, I pulled the glove over and made me on the way.
"Lizzy, Sandra! I am here!", I called out as I entered the apartment.
With the two one I didn't know, you already know what I mean! Then I went directly into the kitchen and set tea water on.
"There is no strange man there. You can take off your veil," Sandra said and went to the coffee machine. Our 'intellectual' drank litres of coffee, seldom tea and she smoked like a chimney, but only on the balcony. I took her in my arms and pressed my beloved 'ashtray' warmly. When I got rid of my veils in the dressing room, Lizzy came to greet me.
"I have good news for you, but let me enjoy my tea first!" I said. We had made ourselves comfortable. I had drunk my tea and Sandra came off the balcony with an empty coffee cup, I told them.
"So, Murad says, you go straight to Berlin, he pays the travel expenses for both of you. He said if you pricked yourself to accept gifts, he'd spank you. That's it!"
"Well, no man has spanked my ass for a long time, could be nice again", typical Sandra. I said:
"Everything already prepared. You travel Monday morning at 8:00 with the Intercity to Berlin and they expect decent clothes; so Hijab and Abaya are a duty! Okay?"
They had changed a lot. I would never have dared to talk to them like that before. I am just saying to them, as they have to would have led to massive arguments. Now they seemed to be happy that I, an almost eighteen-year-old girl, told them what to do. Then they disappeared into the kitchen to cook some food for us. I didn't want to go back to my little apartment alone in the dark, so I left early after dinner. Because in winter it got dark early. Actually, as a good Muslim, I should only be on the street accompanied, but it's just a hundred meters. I knew I didn't have to worry because I was in our street under the protection of the Brotherhood, Allah blesses them.
I want to tell you about a little incident: I was, as usual after my visit to my mammies, on my way home - it was already dawning - when a convertible slowly drove up beside me, and young guys thought they had to insult me:
"Hey, barn owl! Do you want to fuck? I fuck you in your Muslim ass..." Before they realised it, my brothers, wretched them with their cars. I had to get into one of their cars immediately, but I still saw some wardrobe-shaped brothers lovingly dedicating themselves to the idiots before we turned around the next bend. I had to listen to a little sermon that a decent Muslim woman alone had no place on the street, but they knew who I was and tolerated my habits. It's a good feeling when you're protected.