Veiled PAGE



Two mommies were travelling:


Murad had organised everything for the trip. My daughter Gadi hated public farewell orgies at train stations and had said goodbye to us on Sunday evening. His nephew Achmed, a competent and smart boy, had brought us to the IC to Berlin on time. I was pleased that we had already decided to go on this trip and to dress correctly in Islamic clothing. I thought about it, and we wore outside the apartment Hijaab and Abaya for some time. It had become normal for us - like so many other things in our streets. Murad still did our grocery shopping, and for everything else the 'young patriots' stood in. They had set up a free shopping, guidance and driving service for us women, senior citizens and the disabled. In the streets, there were hardly any women left. A few colourful hijaab, always in pairs or accompanied by men with beards, were now a feature of the street scene. Being respected by believing men and exposing oneself to their care made our lives much more manageable. I would have loved to have converted to Islam by marrying a Muslim. I was only thirty-seven and longed for a faithful man like Murad, but I didn't have the guts to talk to Sandra of it. She knew we would have to do away with sex games. So the last logical step was left out for now.

So we two pseudo-Muslims sat on the train to Berlin. I quietly and deeply absorbed in my prayer to Allah; my thoughts revolved around my only hope, to become healthy again.


How much I loved my Lizzy. On our last mosque visit, I swore to Allah that when Lizzy was cured, I would renounce my lesbian inclination. I would convert and ask the brotherhood to marry a devout brother.

How much we had changed! Next to me sat a friend resting deep within herself, the ever-hectic and panic-stricken Lizzy was history and the brooding and cynical Sandra probably too. My anger had given way to a cheerful serenity.

I loved to take part in the Friday prayer in the mosque and then meet my new friends in the madrasah with great joy. A year ago this would have been inconceivable to me. Lizzy and I hadn't had real sex for a long time; we cuddled up like sisters, not like lovers. Recently my thoughts of sex with one man have been circulating, a dominant Muslim. Mad, if someone had told me a year ago what I had changed in these times, I would have kept him quiet in my well-known cynical way. As I said, it was history now.

One outsider spotted the tips of the noses of two quiet and modestly dressed Muslimahs on their trip to Berlin.

We were finally arriving in Berlin after five hours. It was bitter cold. A freezing wind blew through the platforms. A young man held up a sign with our names, and we hurried to join him.

"Hello, we are Sandra Frey and Lizzy Wiesner!" In silence, he took our two suitcases and put them on the trolley he had brought with him and set off. At a proper distance, we followed him into the parking garage to his car. It was lousy cold in Berlin, and the icy wind was burning on my face. Lizzy offered me a black cloth. It was a three-layer niqaab. Thankfully I put it on, and then she handed me black gloves. We now could endure the cold better, and the young man gave us a friendly smile. Later Lizzy told me that she always carried the niqaab with her when we left the house, just waiting for the right opportunity. Finally, we reached the car and got in. When I wanted to take off the glove to take off the niqaab, Lizzy took my hands and whispered:

" Please stay like this for me! The brothers believe we are sisters, not lesbians." At first, I was shocked! Lizzy was ashamed to have me for a girlfriend! But then I thought:

"She is right! We're over it. We both long for male care and security. Tonight I want to talk to her." It was a quiet trip to one of the suburbs of Berlin. I saw a sign with the inscription Müggelsee, so we must be somewhere in Berlin Treptow-Köpenick or Müggelheim. We drove through a narrow avenue leading directly to the clinic and its adjacent residential building. Everything was snow-covered, a fantastic view. When we got out, the icy cold greeted us, but also a friendly smiling Hijaab.

"Welcome to our clinic! My name is Fatima. Please follow me! We'll take care of the luggage," she said. The young man put the suitcases on the floor and continued without saying a word, greeting away. Quickly we followed the woman into the warm hospital. She led us to her desk in a reception area only allowed for women. She said:

"Thank you for covering your face. I picked you up at the women's reception and here we are in the women's wing. Here is only a very small area. In all other areas of the clinic, men have free access. There the female nursing staff, as well as the patients, are expected to be fully veiled. You are also expected to remain silent outside the women's wing. Should you have any difficulties with this, we will be happy to provide you with an assortment of gagging. Which of you is the patient Elisabeth Wiesner?" Lizzy raised her hand a little intimidated by the professionalism of her counterpart and said:

" Lizzy, that's enough."

"Then you must be Sandra, right?" I just nodded. So I showed my willingness to remain silent. Fatima pressed a button, and a veiled woman entered the room. Fatima said:

"This is Sister Nur. She takes you dear Sister Sandra to the apartment complex. Lizzie's briefing will only bore you anyway." Lizzy and I said goodbye wordlessly by rubbing forehead to forehead.

"I think that you will have an excellent life here with us," said Fatima. I left her and followed Nur to my apartment. We reached a door with a message button. After she pressed the button, an iris scanner came out of the wall, and she identified herself with it. Her release appeared, and I was told to do the same. Guest Sandra Frey now has access to the apartments. Salam aleikum, Sister Sandra. For the first time, Nur spoke to me:

"We are now passing a lock, do not be afraid. In an emergency, all doors open automatically. Behind it begins the women's wing, which no man can enter." The door opened with a metallic click. According to the sound of the servo motors, it was a door made of solid steel. As we walked through it, it closed itself behind us, and we stood in front of a second door which, after scanning us, opened similarly to the first door. In front of us was a long narrow hallway.

"You can take off your veil now. I'll show you everything now. There was a large lounge with a huge bathroom attached, in which some women spent their time. She showed me the prayer room, the communal kitchen, the laundry room with drying room and ironing room. Then she showed me a very well equipped fitness room, and then we stood in front of my apartment with room number 122. When I entered, I thought it was a prison cell, because it was so tiny. A small locker and a narrow bed found room in it.

" Don't worry," Nur said, "It's only for sleeping or to withdraw from time to time. Life always takes place in the community of women. Lizzy undergoes pervasive research. She will, if she is here, surely only want to sleep, so you have time to make yourself known to the other women. I hope I can leave you alone and so welcome sister, Salam aleikum! "Wa Alaikum as-salam and many thanks for your efforts, dear Nur." Exhausted from the journey and the first impressions I sat down on my thin mattress. Without noticing it, I fell asleep for half an hour. Then I took a refreshing nap and went exploring.