Veiled PAGE

Email:   vulcan@anarchocat.com

42

Lisa=Fida(the Sacrifice)

Gadi:

Now Lisa was living at my place. Though she was almost a year older than me, she had become my little sister. She uploaded her farewell video to YouPub. Saying she couldn't have herself photographed half-naked anymore. She used to dress in her spare time, like me, with Ruband. Once she entered the school grounds, she took off her Ruband reluctantly. She finally graduated from high school in the summer and turned eighteen. From then on she possessed a very large inherited fortune that was left to her by her parents, who had been died in an accident. However, since she moved in with me, she has worked as a temp in Murad's tailor's shop - free of charge.

"I would like to convert to Islam and to marry a believing Muslim," she said to me one evening.

" Convert is fine, but don't you think it's a bit too soon for a wedding?" I said.

"Gadi, I would have liked to be married when I was sixteen. Tomorrow's Friday. Let's visit the mosque with Murad and Selima for Friday prayer and spend a few hours with the sisters in the madrasah," she suggested.

I didn't like disturbing the Arslans in their spare time. I texted Selima and she promptly replied: "Come down! There's a cake!" The cake Selima made was in a class of its own. There was nothing better. We flew down the stairs with blowing veils and stood in front of their door in no time. And she opened us up, and we entered. It was now obvious that Selima was seven months pregnant. We took her to the living room and I said:

"You baked the cake and we'll serve you. Hello, boss! I have a little attack on you in mind," I greeted Murad in passing.

" Your boss is scared to death! Hello big mouth with little mouse", he replied brazenly. He called me bigmouth, because of my 'Ruhrpotschnauze' and Lisa was our little mouse. Yes! Exactly Lisa, who used to never miss a party and always pushed herself into the spotlight. Now, she was the restraint in person. A silent little mouse that only beeps in the presence of a man. She never would have asked Murad directly if he would take her to the mosque. I knew she wanted more from him. We sat down with coffee, tea, and Selima's unforgettable cake. Selima and Lisa as always quiet and Murad and I at the ball (That means that we played each other little verbal-injuries).

Once Selima said to Murad out of exuberance:

"Gadi is the female, younger and much prettier version of you."

"Gadi is a naughty little snot, but you're my wife and shouldn't get carried away into disrespect for your husband." And she suddenly fell back into total passivity. Though Selima was free and easy when she was among women. If Murad was anywhere near, she'd shut up.

So, again, it was all up to me.

"My dearest Daddy, may I ask you to take us to the mosque on Friday and give us a few hours in the madrasah afterward" I ensnarled him. On one hand he didn't want me to call him Daddy, but on the other hand, it seemed to make him really proud and he couldn't refuse me anything anymore.

"Child! Now Al Gossarah is your father and of course I'll take you with me," he said.

"Al Gossarah may be my stepfather, whom, if my mother so desires, I will obey. But the love of a daughter I can only give once and I gave it to you," I told from the bottom of my heart. His eyes got wet and he couldn't see my tears under my ruband. I got up, went to him and kissed his hand and touched it with my forehead, then I said:

"I'm not a stranger, dear father!" He understood at once, gave me a fatherly look and remained silent.

"There's something else here with our little mouse. She urgently needs a male guardian," I said.

"She wants to convert and get married. I only know one man I'd like to give that responsibility to. You!"

"This is a great honor for me, but don't you think an Imam, or at least a Talib, should do it?"

"A guardian of faith might be a good choice. However, in order to establish a good life for a young woman at the side of a good and lovable man, it probably requires more than knowledge of the Koran."

I figured I got him now. His vanity took him along my path. He was the best guardian for Lisa.

" What does Lisa think about this? Would you like me to be your guardian?"

A peeped "yes!" with a veil nodding violently said it all.

"And Selima, how do you think about that?" he asked his wife.

" Gadi, as always, is absolutely right," was her answer. "Be most welcome, dear Lisa."

On Friday we drove to the mosque without Selima, she had enough problems with her pregnancy. After the prayers, Lisa spoke the Shahada in the circle of believers and wanted to be called Fida (the sacrifice) from now on. Then the Imam appointed Murad to her guardian and holding hands, I walked with Fida to the Madrasah to welcome our new sister now with all the other women.

Now Fida had to be a daughter of the Arslans. She was a blessing for Selima because Fida had to relieve the pregnant woman of the heavy burdens. I had my little apartment to myself again. It wasn't that bad. I found the peace to think about my future. I might as well ask Murad to be my guardian. I missed my Lizzy, my Mama, even though her name was Safiye and she lived mutely in Purdah. The only way I could be with her is as a daughter of al Gossarah and that would mean living in Purdah for me, too. That frightened me on one side, on the other one I was attracted by life with no responsibility and completely dependent on one man; it made me all horny. I didn't have to decide now. I'd visit Lizzy next weekend. Just before I went to bed, right after the night prayer, Sandra wrote to me: "Dear child, I have to say goodbye to you. My husband desires me to stay more away from worldly living and to lead a strictly religious life. I wish you all the best and a good life. Your Mama Sandra."

I suddenly felt so alone and I realized with one blow what I wanted, to end the journey. Then I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

45

Celina and I used to meet in the foyer of the gym. All our friends hung out there, too. After an all-around hello we made ourselves comfortable with a cold juice.

"Jesus, Celina! I had maybe one crazy weird day," and I told her my experiences.

"Okay, that was Murphy's Law! But at least you seem to have picked up a very interesting guy and you call him?" she asked.

"I don't know, I don't know. Let's go and burn some calories. Go ahead. I'll bring Freddy the contracts," I said.

Entering the hall, I saw Celina talking with one of our new headscarves. Anyway, I needed some movement now. So headphones on, Lala on, and sweat till there's blood! Think so! I did what I loved to do best - to row. Listening to the music and continuously grasping into the straps makes slim and relaxed and you can watch the others. Celina and the headscarf were really absorbed in their conversation. A second headscarf was warmly welcomed by both of them. Each of the three entered a treadmill and ran, smiling at each other again and again, as if to make sure that none would be lost. Weird? Crazy!

An hour later my head was wonderfully empty for new problems and I had decided to give Pete a chance. Celina was out of sight. So I took a shower. Then I met her again in the foyer. She and a headscarf chattering again.

" Sweetie, I wanna go now," I said to her.

"Wait, Caro! You don't remember Uschi? Ursula Leiden our ex-class spokeswoman," Celina said. Three times I had to look to match this little face triangle with my old school friend.

"Uschi? It's actually you. Sorry, I never recognized you underneath all this stuff. How are you?" I said.

"Thank you, good. Now my name is Rana Karim and I'm married. As you can see, now I am a Muslimah."

A conversation with a barn owl, I didn't even think about it, even though she was an old friend at school. She was buried under all those bales of cloth anyway.

" I have no time at the moment, but I'm sure we'll meet more often. Will you come, Celina?" I urged. By rubbing their temples together, Celina and Uschi-Rana said goodbye. On the way, I asked her:

"Tell me, are actually everyone infected with a virus. I thought the headscarves were all foreigners and not Germans?"

" You poor thing, you never noticed what's going on in your hometown since you went to college", she profaned.

" Now that you're saying it, several families in my streets appear to be converted into Islam," I said.

"You must have heard how peaceful Muslim demonstrators were beaten half to death in Dresden and Rana was one of them. She was interviewed before and after the demo. First a pretty and reserved girl with hijab and then a bloody heap of misery in the shredded hijab. She is almost an international celebrity."

" Hey, I just don't have time for screwed up, idiotic political theatre besides studying, looking for a place to live and earning my living! Other people' s sensitivities interest me very little at the moment," I said.

There was something standing there between us, in fact, since I was a student. I had been looking forward to a nice evening with my girlfriend, but we probably didn't get together anymore.

Whatever! I drove home and flew myself with coffee into my favorite sofa corner and wrote to Pete and he promptly called me back.

"Hello, Caro! I am happy to be hearing from you and did you succeed in finding an apartment?" I told him about my afternoon.

"I don't want to impose, but if you'll allow me, I'll help you find a place," he said.

"Slow down with the young horses! How do you feel about a date?" I asked.

"I'd really love this! It sounds stupid, but my company has just been bought up by an investment company and I am under a lot of pressure. Could we perhaps meet on the fly when I get a chance? I never know how much time I have right now," he said.

"I don't feel much better either! During the week I study in Cologne and on the weekends I work in the fitness center."

"With a reservation, I'm off Monday afternoon. I'll pick you up from college and we'll get something to eat. How about it?"

" OK, so I' ll call you Monday. "

"I'm happy, Caro! I' ll see you on Monday!"

 

Pete Lagerfeld

I was on my way home from Duisburg-Marxloh to Cologne. I was on a date with Caro at Ebertstrasse. I was stuck in a traffic jam, as so often in the Kölner Ring. I didn't care. I was head over heels in love with Caro. And not only that: The change of possession of my real estate company had significant implications for me. To keep my job I was now an aspirant for membership in the Brotherhood and therefore had to convert to Islam. That's why I went to see Imam Ibrahim Arslan.

"Welcome brother! Step inside," said the Iman. When I entered his apartment he shouted:

"Selima, Kamila we have a guest. Bring tea and biscuits!" A young, enchanting woman, completely veiled except for her face, of the type: beautiful even in a potato sack, entered the living room and presented us with tea and biscuits. I was fascinated by the nature of her presence, she covered our table with soft, flowing movements, there was not the slightest sound of clinking porcelain. All I heard was a soft rustling of her veils. That was discretion in perfection. The Imam became aware of my admiration towards the woman and rebuked me:

" Muslims consider it insulting when a stranger stares at his wives."

"Forgive me, Imam! It's all so fresh to me. I'll do better," I apologized.

"It's all right, my brother! You're lucky, she's not my wife. At least not yet." He smiled and she glowed at him.

" What leads you up to me?"

"I need your advice, Imam. I have fallen in love and do not know how to behave correctly now that I am a Muslim," I said. The Imam smiled:

"You are behaving perfectly. That's exactly why I'm an Imam. I consult the brothers so that they may not be misled. I assume the woman of your heart is not a Muslimah, right?" I nodded.

"Don't worry, everything will come together. Tell me about her! Where she lives and how she acts," he said. I told him what I knew and with a few specific questions from the Imam, he created a small profile of my sweetheart. Then he picked up his smartphone and asked me for some patience. He spoke Turkish and I didn't understand a single word. When he ended the conversation, he said:

" If your girlfriend wants, she can move directly into one of our apartments in Cologne on Ebertstraße. Some of them have become free and first come, first served. The rent is 200 € per month, it is a student flat share and is a foundation of our Cologne Madrasa. You'd better call her right now."

"That is awesome!" I shouted and grabbed my cell phone.

"Hi, Caro! Are you still in Cologne? ...Yes! Okay. I'll give you an address now. It is a very low-priced apartment in a student flat. Are you interested? ...Yes, good! I'm on my way to Cologne. I'll meet you there. Bye, see you later!"

"You'd a better hurry, my brother. There will be after-work traffic in one hour or less," said the Imam.

"Imam, thank you. May Allah bless you and your family," I said from my heart with gratitude.

"I can see you're quickly learning good manners. May Allah bless you, and that you may soon conquer the heart of your beloved. Good luck," he told me as I went out.