by Dave Potter


Exclusively for the ‘Tales of the Veils’ website

“You wear the niqaab, Dr. Shaarawi?”

“That is evident,” she replied, staring at her interviewer from the thin slit her veils allowed.

“Yet you still apply for this job?”

“I wear the niqaab, sir, because I am a Muslim, because I respect Allah (twbp) and His Prophet Mohammed (pbuh) and the dictates in the Glorious Qur’an. However, wearing the niqaab does not mean that I cannot take a full part in society and indeed, in academic research, particularly that which is Islamically-focussed.”

“A good answer Dr. Shaarawi, but I wondered because most niqaabis tend to stay at home, looking after their husband and children.”

“That is true and I fully respect those sisters who choose to live in such purdah and dedicate themselves to their families, but I am not yet married and instead wish to serve Allah (twbp) by putting all my efforts into research. That sir is why I applied for this position. As you can see from my CV, I have studied for many years to achieve my Doctorate and I do not wish to put all the knowledge that I’ve gained to waste and when I read about the Islamic Centre for Technology then I was sure that would be the place for me, particularly when the post advertised is concerned directly with improving the lives of Muslim women.”

Her interviewer smiled and sat back. “I can see by your articulate answers that you are exactly the sort of lady that we have been searching for, and so I feel that it is right that we offer the post to you. Do you accept Dr. Shaarawi?”

“I do with great thanks, sir!”

“Fantastic! Then please report for work on Sunday morning where my colleague Dr. Al-Tayyeb will induct you and explain what your role shall be exactly.”

On Sunday morning at the start of the working week, Dr. Tahirah Shaarawi made her way out of Cairo in her car and pulled up outside the sparkling tower of green plate glass that houses the ICT. At the reception desk she announced who she was and that Dr. Al-Tayyeb was to see her at which the security guard nodded and made a phone call. Within a couple of minutes, her mentor arrived, a short man with a suitably Islamic beard and baggy white costume. He escorted her up to the fourth floor and then into his office where he explained what her future job entailed.

“First of all Dr. Shaarawi, let me welcome you to the ICT, a branch of the prestigious Al-Azhar University which, founded in 364AH, or 975 if you use the Western system, making it the oldest institute of learning in the world. Throughout the ages we have illuminated all of Islam with our learning and this centre here, opened only last year, continues that tradition for the future. Essentially, what we do here is utilise technology to enable us to find Islamic solutions for the problems of the world, and indeed, what you are to be doing here is very typical of that.

Now, as you know Dr. Shaarawi, you have been employed as a Research Leader in our prestigious ‘Modernising the Musilmah’ project which aims to improve the life of the present-day and future Musilmah by utilising technology to make her life easier and more enjoyable yet at the same time not to compromise on the Islamic principles. Now, do you have any questions so far, doctor?”

“None at all Dr. Al-Tayyeb, except to say that these aims are also mine. I am a devout Musilmah and I wish to use my learning to help my sisters.”

“That is excellent, Dr. Shaarawi. Now please, watch this video here as it explains more fully than I ever can the problems that we are trying to eliminate.”

The video showed a house in the old part of Cairo. The narrator, a veiled lady like herself, introduced herself as Faten Hamama, a research fellow with the ICT. The camera then went inside the house to reveal a room where four veiled women sat around the floor. These however, were not niqaabis like the narrator or Tahirah, but instead seriously religious, wearing full veils that betrayed not even a hint of the eyes beneath and not showing their hands unless they really had to. They then proceeded to tell the camera about their lives, but not in any conventional way, but instead by writing notes that they showed to the camera or each other. They explained that they took voice awrah very seriously and so voluntarily gagged themselves at all times and conversed through note-writing. Tahirah also noticed that their hands, when they were revealed, were covered by thick, opaque mittens in order to further reduce the appeal of the lady beneath. The narrator was impressed by their dedication to Islam but then asked if they had any difficulties because of their extreme lifestyle. The ladies nodded and began to explain that because of a lack of sunlight, they often suffered from vitamin deficiency and also their thick clothes, especially the headscarves and gloves, caused them to overheat which caused rashes and tiredness, whilst the gags that they wore, although effective in muting their speech, caused the teeth to grow out of position which was both unattractive and also, at times, painful. Finally, they talked about jaw ache and dryness in the mouth caused by the gagging and also the difficulty of some of the older ladies in reading handwriting whilst still veiled. After that, the narrator took over and left the house and the video ended.

“We at the ICT have been researching methods on how to improve the lives of those pious Musilmahs without compromising their beliefs, and we believe that we have found some appropriate solutions. You shall be working with Miss Hamama, the narrator of the video in developing and testing some of our solutions. Do you have any questions?”

“None at all, doctor.”

“Excellent! So please, let us go into the next room which shall be yours where the first task of your new job shall be prepared.”

Tahirah she entered the room to find another niqaabi in there. “Are you Miss Hamama?” she asked.

“No Dr. Shaarawi,” said the lady, “I am Amina, your assistant. Please, for the first task I need you to get undressed. That is why you have a female, not a male assistant.”

This request surprised Tahirah. “Undressed? But I thought that I was here to do some research?” she said.

“That is true, but already much research has been done and we need you to become up to speed with it. And to do that, the best thing is to wear it yourself. As you can imagine, the new items that we have developed contain revolutionary materials and the like and it is best for you to evaluate them by wearing them yourself.”

Tahirah could see the logic in this and so she stripped down to her underclothes and then wrapped a towel around herself to appear more modestly before her assistant.

“Excellent, Dr. Shaarawi,” said Amina. “I can see that you wear your hair quite short.”

“I find it is easier to manage that way under my hijaab.”

“I understand that completely and wish that I could wear mine also in that way, but my husband would object and the Qur’an teaches us to obey our spouses.”

“That is true,” Tahirah confirmed, pleased at the religious tone of all the employees of the ICT.

“Now doctor, what I am about to ask you may sound a little strange, but I assure you, it is vital for the success of our research. Please, sit on this chair here and let me shave off the remainder of your hair as the items that we have developed are designed to be worn with a shorn head.”

“I will not pretend that your request pleases me, but for the research I shall allow it,” said Tahirah.

Within a couple of minutes Amina had shorn all her hair off completely so that she was entirely bald except for the eyebrows. Then she went to a cupboard set into the wall and brought out a box.

“Is this the item?” asked Tahirah.

“It is,” replied Amina, opening the box to reveal a strange-looking hood that obviously fitted over the head of a person. It seemed to be made of some sort of soft and slightly metallic material which seemed to be thinner at the crown, whilst at the front there was a mirror, slightly curved that evidently covered the face.

“How can this help our purdah-living sisters?” asked Tahirah.

“You shall see when you put it on,” explained Amina.

Tahirah nodded and let her assistant fit it. It went on quite easily and Tahirah was surprised to discover that it wasn’t as heavy as it looked, and indeed it was less oppressive all round than she’d imagined, for although it was tight-fitting, it did not press in on her and through the mirror she could see almost as clearly as without any face-covering. The only inconvenience was around the neck as the hood incorporated a rather thick, high and tight collar. That said, it was altogether an easy thing to wear, much less trouble and heat-producing even than her simple niqaab. The only thing that confused her was why this had been developed.

“So what is the purpose behind this?” she asked Amina.

Or at least, that is what she meant to ask, but to her surprise no words came out!

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything in a second,” said her assistant.

“But I can’t speak! I can’t speak!” cried Tahirah, grasping at the hood to remove it.

“I know you can’t, please Dr. Shaarawi, sit down here and calm yourself!”

Tahirah sat down and regained her breath. Then she realised. “How can you understand what I’m saying?” she asked.

“Like this, replied Amina, holding up a mirror before Tahirah’s hooded face.

To the doctor’s surprise the words that she had said, whilst silent, appeared as digital writing on the mirrored screen in front of her face. “Allah akhbar!” she declared and lo, the words appeared there, and indeed, when she strained her eyes, she could see them faintly before her eyes.

“There’s a chip located in the collar at the front of your neck which silences your voice and converts the sounds that you would have made into words on the screen. Can you imagine how much easier this will make things for those purdah sisters who up until now have had to write notes to communicate with one another? And, what’s more than that, are the added advantages that the hood brings. As we both know, the ultimate aim of the niqaab is to destroy the ego, to make the wearer anonymous, yet what more anonymous could there be than a blank screen? Now these sisters can take off their veils at home and converse with each other in silence and with good sight without having any fear of breaking the rules of our beloved faith.

“It’s a miracle!” declared Tahirah and silence reigned, though the words appeared on her screen.

After putting on the hood, Tahirah donned an abayah, headscarf, gloves, stockings, slippers and a thin full-face niqaab. She was amazed that even the thinnest fabric now hid her features completely and yet allowed almost perfect sight. It was a blessing yet at the same time the lack of speech was bothering her slightly. Now ready to face the outside world, she took Amina’s hand and they walked out to the office where Dr. Al-Tayyeb and several other employees were waiting. “Salaam aleikum!” said Al-Tayyeb.
Slowly, Tahirah lifted up her niqaab and when the screen was fully revealed, the words “Waleikum salaam!” were revealed and the entire company clapped.

Then Tahirah noticed another lady dressed similarly to herself stood to the left. ‘I am Faten Hamama, pleased to meet you!’ appeared on her screen.
‘Pleased to meet you, I am Dr. Tahirah Shaarawi,’ replied Tahirah’s screen.

“Excellent ladies,” said Al-Tayyeb, “now what I need you to do today is get used to this item before we proceed. You need to converse with one another, learn to eat and drink and so on, and then we shall proceed with the project.”

Talking proved easy, as the two girls sat opposite each other and exchanged messages. It was strange admittedly, but in some ways rather like internet chat which Tahirah was quite a fan of anyway. Eating and drinking however, was another matter. Their assistants demonstrated how, at the bottom of the screens, a small flap opened, through which food or a straw could be passed. The drinking was little problem, but it was hard getting the food up an almost vertical passage without messing the clothes and they both soon learnt that meals wearing the hoods would take longer as only smaller pieces placed on the ends of forks, or blended food sucked through a straw could now be consumed. These findings were noted by the assistants before the ladies were then sent to bed for the afternoon siesta to see how easy sleeping would be in the masks.

Sleep did not come easily to Tahirah even though she was quite tired, as obviously, due to the male presence, she had to rest fully-clothed and also the mask made her feel strange. She did however, eventually drift off, but when she awoke an hour or so later she felt a little claustrophobic when she opened her eyes to find them behind a glass screen, although to her surprise she was not sweaty and the glass had not steamed up. Again these findings were noted by the assistants. Then they were taken to Dr. Al-Tayyeb.

“Salaam aleikum again ladies, and may I say that those outfits are quite striking. Now, please sit down and let me give a little explanation to you. The hoods that you are now wearing, although different in minor details, are in essence the same. They are both made out of a newly-developed material that is designed to minimise heating up and to carry sweat away from the body. It is also lightweight and from our findings so far it seems to be successful in these aims. The screen is one-way glass and I can make out none of your features through it which gives full Islamic protection. It is designed not to steam up inside and again; this feature appears to be successful. As for the muting, again we have surpassed even our highest expectations and you may now live as pious sisters with the minimum of effort and with all the problems of rashes, overheating and eye damage solved. Indeed, the only one still remaining is that of vitamin deficiency, (although the hood’s material and the screen minimise this), and for this, tablets can be taken.

However, as yet you have only experienced half the benefits of this item, and indeed, the others are far more interesting. As our faith states, a pious and chaste woman should be looked after by either her father or husband and so it is that all these hoods come equipped with one of these.” At this Dr. Al-Tayyeb pulled out a remote control similar to that used for a TV. “Now, the wearer’s master will have this and with it he can further protect his beloved female. For example, what if we were to be walking through Cairo and suddenly come across a lewd advertisement, or a shop selling alcohol or pork? Well, this danger for temptation is immediately neutralised by pressing this button, like so.”

Immediately Tahirah’s screen went pitch black: she could see absolutely nothing. “What’s happened? What have you done?” she asked.

“I’ve turned off the lights as it were,” replied Al-Tayyeb, “and don’t worry, your speech still appears on the screen. Indeed, with this remote, I can give my wife the degree of sight which I deem most suitable, from pitch black to no obstruction.”

Gradually the screen grew lighter and Tahirah could make out outlines and then some details. Somewhere, about halfway in-between full sight and none, Al-Tayyeb stopped and said, “And that is about enough sight for today I think.” This feature scared Tahirah, that a man could control a woman so much and so easily, blinding her at his whim. Surely that wasn’t Islamic and yet his explanation had sounded theologically sound.

“The muting is an excellent feature of this hood and unlike with a gag, teeth remain unaffected and so grew straight and true, nor is jaw ache a problem. However, the real genius lies elsewhere. Dr. Shaarawi, please swear at me.”

“What on earth do you mean?!”

“What I said, swear…use an obscenity!”

Tahirah felt most uncomfortable at this command but realising it was all in the name of research, she said, “Fuck off!”

To her amazement though, in the mirror that Al-Tayyeb held in front of her, the screen remained blank!

“Genius isn’t it? The chip picks up sounds and deletes any word that is inappropriate. This feature is still in it’s infancy but over time we hope to really develop it. We got the idea from a British novel called 1984 in which a language is developed whereby it is impossible to say anything which is against the wishes of the state. And if we cannot say something, then we cannot think it and with time the idea itself will vanish. These hoods will erase all possibility of unacceptable thought from our daughters leading to a pure and holy future. As I said, this research is truly ground-breaking and life-changing!”

Ground-breaking and life-changing possibly, but by now some of the hood’s features, and Al-Tayyeb’s ideas were beginning to frighten Tahirah.

What was also frightening is that she then learnt she was to continue wearing the hood for the period of an entire week!

Over the following week Tahirah had to live inside the full purdah suit. When she went home her parents were of course shocked, but she explained – when she could finally get them to look at the screen – how it worked and the reasoning behind it. Her mother was horrified, but her father, although not as religious as Tahirah herself, understood the potential benefits to extremely pious musilmahs and was secretly proud that his daughter had been chosen to trial such revolutionary research.

So it was that as the days passed, she slowly began to get used to the suit and learn how to live in it. It began to become normal not to hear her voice, but instead actually remember to face the person that she was speaking to so that they could see her screen. Nonetheless, there were problems. On the third day Faten Hamama and Tahirah went out, (together with a veiled research assistant), onto the streets of Cairo to see how the new technology would be accepted by the people there. When the niqaabs were down and they looked just as any other pious women do, then there were no issues, but when they lifted them and words began appearing on their screens there were a whole host of discouraging reactions. The best were the simpletons who merely stared at the screen as if it were some sort of new TV whilst the worst were the stallholders in the bazaar who threw fruit at them thinking that the women were aliens from Mars who had come to attack them. As with everything else, these reactions were noted and evaluated back at ICT.

Another issue that irked Tahirah constantly was the feature that moderated her speech. Whilst she had no problems with it filtering out swear words and the like, she began to notice that at times it filtered out other things as well, or indeed, even changed them. One evening, after a particularly hard day, she did not feel like praying so she said to Faten that she would skip the Asr prayers but instead, Faten replied, ‘Yes, you are right, it would be wrong to miss the Asr Prayer even after such a long and hard day,’ and so she hadn’t been able to skip them after all. Following this she decided to test the hood, to see what else it would filter out. When they passed a handsome professor, Tahirah commented on how he looked, but no words appeared. Half an hour later however, when she fancied a coffee, she asked Faten but instead of her words, the screen display read, ‘I would like a coffee now but due to my sinful thoughts about men I shall forgo this desire.’ That was certainly not pleasing, and as the week went on Tahirah got more and more frustrated with the suit so that she could not wait to take it off at the end.

To her dismay however, when the new week commenced, instead of being stripped of the hood, Al-Tayyeb had something very different to say:

“Now ladies, I need you to retire to your rooms for your assistants to fit the next items and I shall see you again in a minute.”

Tahirah walked away slowly, wondering what was to come next.

When she re-entered her room, Tahirah was surprised to discover that all she was expected to wear now, was a belt and a different pair of gloves. The belt Amina tied around her waist and the gloves were slipped on after taking off the old pair. Like the hood, these were slightly metallic to look at and lighter and cooler than expected, nor were they as elasticated as the previous pair which meant they had to be fastened around the upper arms by means of straps that were marginally uncomfortable but nothing too irksome. It all seemed so harmless and normal and Tahirah wondered quite what was so revolutionary and ground-breaking about these new items. Walking outside again afterwards, she soon found out.

“Ah, Dr. Shaarawi, here you are! Now, please, let me explain about your new gloves and the belt which is a necessary attachment with them. The gloves are made out of another new material which we have developed here at the ICT, a material which is embedded with thousands of tiny electromagnets, and they operate in a most fascinating manner. As you know, a pious Musilmah, should keep her hands gloved and hidden whenever possible, yet how many of our young ladies forget this command and wave their arms about needlessly, causing fitna? Well, these gloves eliminate that possibility. Try lifting your arms higher than your chest, doctor.”

Tahirah did as he commanded and to her surprise, whilst it was easy at first, the higher they got, a magnetic pull started which, at chest height was so strong that she had to lower them again.

“Excellent, please note the results Amina. Now, another problem we find is young ladies fingering themselves when they should not. Try touching your crotch, doctor.”

Tahirah did as she was told, but nearing that area a strong magnetic force kept her hands away and try as she might she could not do it.

“Excellent, again successful! And now finally, I shall press this button and…”

The moment the button was pressed, Tahira’s hands shot to her sides, locked there by a strong pull at her wrists. She could not move them an inch!

“Perfect, and so as you can see, we have finally developed a complete purdah suit. Now, Doctor Shaarawi and Miss Hamama, these additions shall also be trialled for the period of a week, after that you may take off the suit, if of course you or your spouse desires!”

‘I desire to remove it now and the idiot’s forgotten that I don’t have a spouse!’ thought Tahirah.

To her dismay, Al-Tayyeb merely retorted, “I am sorry that I forgot about your unfortunate marital status, but please sister, do not refer to me as an ‘idiot’!”

That was another annoying feature of the hood, it also revealed those thoughts that you wanted keeping secret if you aren’t careful! Tahirah gave an apology and left.

If the first week had been hard, then this second week in the suit was hell! By now Tahirah was finding the silence oppressive and having her head permanently encased in a hood, claustrophic. She longed to take it off and let the fresh air blow against her cheeks, but it was not to be, for the new gloves made doing virtually anything an impossibility. She developed itches that she longed to scratch but could not and she longed to do her exercises but no longer could. Instead she found herself adopting the lifestyle of a pious sister, her hands rarely peeping out from underneath her clothes, reinforcing the image of a silent black ghost. It drove her up the wall.

Worse, however, was to come. After a couple of days with the gloves, a pair of stockings was added, made of a similar material. These, had a similar setting to the gloves so that she found that her ankles and lower legs could now only be about 25cm apart before an immense magnetic pressure was felt. Consequently, her walk now became a sort of shuffle and whenever she knelt, she had to keep both legs together, adopting the (rather painful) position so favoured by the Japanese during tea ceremony. Tahirah was simply counting the hours before the whole hateful suit could be removed once and for all.

Finally however, the end of the week came and they were summoned to Dr. Al-Tayyeb’s office. She and Faten minced their way down the corridors to his door where they were let in and told to sit down, which both did slowly and carefully, keeping their legs tightly together. Once they were settled, the doctor called for tea which they sipped through straws and he began:

“Well ladies, may I take this opportunity to thank you both profusely. The research that you have helped us to undertake regarding these suits has been most informative and has made us and our patron realise that these purdah suits are both practical and cost-effective. We hope to see them marketed by next year and improving the lives of your more pious sisters very soon. You can both be proud, very proud indeed. Now, I appreciate that I said last week that you would be removing the suits now – that is if you want to of course! – but I would like to beg one further indulgence of Dr. Shaarawi before you do so, and that is to pay a quick visit to Prof. Omar Hamama, the father of young Faten here, who is also the Patron of ICT. He has heard so much about your research and would like to congratulate you and talk with you whilst you wear the hood. Would you mind, Dr. Shaarawi?”

Tahirah said ‘No’ and the word appeared on her screen, so Dr. Al-Tayyeb smiled, took out his remote and pressed a button and Tahirah’s screen immediately went black. She felt her niqaab being lowered and a hand was placed on her back and she realised that she was to walk blind as many of the more extreme purdah-living sisters do. Slowly and unsteadily she walked along before she could feel herself being guided into a lift which then rose for sometime before she could hear the doors opening and she was guided out and stood. Then a hand lifted her niqaab and her screen slowly got lighter.

Stood beside her was Faten Hamama and stood in front of them was Al-Tayyeb and another man. As the screen grew lighter, Tahirah realised that it was the man who had interviewed her.

“Dr. Shaarawi and my dearest Faten, welcome to my office! My name is Prof. Omar Hamama and I am the president of the ICT and the father of Faten here. I can see that you have been doing your job as instructed and are now living in the remarkable purdah suit that we have developed. As you have discovered, these remarkable suits can revolutionise the lives of your pious niqaabi sisters and indeed all Muslim women and who knows, perhaps some kaffirs as well?

However, what you are wearing now is only just the beginning, for it is my hope, and the hope of the ICT, to develop these suits more fully, making complete piety more possible and fitna or temptation words to be consigned to the past through misuse. That is where you come in, for you Dr. Shaarawi, are the lady chosen to help us in developing and trying out these suits. Dr. Al-Tayyeb here tells me that you have been wearing the hood, gloves and stockings, but believe me Dr. Shaarawi, I hope that those are but the beginning, and indeed we have plans for an all over suit that, if our experiments work, need never be removed for the material will help keep the skin clean and healthy. This suit will only have holes for the rectum, the vagina and for the nipples so that important sexual functions and the feeding of infants may be accomplished, but otherwise the wearer can remain covered and pure for her entire life. We also have preliminary prototypes for a device in the hood that can cut out hearing at the husband’s whim so that a lady may be shielded from blasphemous words or indeed any inappropriate conversation. Indeed dear Dr. Shaarwari, I foresee in the none-too-distant future, a time when all Muslimahs will be silent and holy, when the only direct contact that a child has with it’s mother is when it suckles on her nipple, when it is normal for a husband to not be tempted by his wives at any time and use them only for breeding purposes, when all unnecessary contact between the sexes has been eliminated. Indeed, doctor, what a bold yet holy dream that is!”

Bold and holy maybe, but although Islamically-sound, it was starting to sound more like a nightmare than a dream to Tahirah.

“A noble dream indeed professor, but one that might be difficult for the ladies to endure I am afraid. Living in these suits is not easy and I will be glad to be divested of mine.” she said.

The words however, did not appear on her screen exactly as she had mouthed them. Instead of ‘I will be glad to be divested of mine’ the screen read, ‘I will be glad to continue living in mine,’ and at that point the professor smiled in a manner that worried Tahirah.

“Indeed yes, doctor, and how pious you are to express such a desire. It is also good that you wish to carry on wearing your suit because I am afraid that there is something that Dr. Al-Tayyeb here has not told you yet, Dr. Shaarawi. The hoods that you and Faten are wearing are extremely similar, but not identical. Faten’s is designed for the unmarried virgin and fits only around the head, not over it. She has kept her hair which can be left on top as with any hijaab. Your hood however, is designed for the married woman and as such is somewhat different. The material at the top is thinner and your hair shorn so that in time your hair will go through the material and then the hood will become permanent. Some extremely pious men never wish to see their wives’ faces due to the fitna they cause and because it encourages jealousy and competition and so they desire for them to be totally anonymous at all times. This is where your hood comes in. Indeed, as my daughter can attest, I too am one of those men and indeed, it was at my bidding that the suit was developed, and it was I who chose for you to wear it. And why did I choose you? Because I have long desired an intelligent lady such as yourself to bear my sons! Yes, I know that you are not blessed with as much beauty as some of your sisters have been granted, but that does not bother me for wearing the mask, I shall never see your face, only the outline of your body which I am sure is pleasing enough. Therefore, are you not the perfect wife for me and indeed I the perfect catch for a woman like you who is well past the age when she should be wed and who, like myself, has a solid academic background? However, I appreciate that I cannot wed you without first your acquiescence and that of your father. Now as for him, I have visited him this morning and when he learnt of my wealth, standing and piety, he agreed immediately, but only on the proviso that you yourself desire our union, and so I ask you now, Dr. Shaarawi, will you become my wife?”

Become his wife! Was he mad? He was mad! His suit was mad with permanent hoods and disabling gloves! To be turned into a muted and blinded anonymous droid for the rest of her life, with the prospect of forced kneeling, hearing that could be turned off at his whim, the only contact with her future child through her nipples; could there be a worse fate? No, he had got her wrong, very wrong indeed! “I am sorry sir, but I cannot accept your proposal,” she said

To her horror though, in the mirror that Al-Tayyeb held up, she could see very different words appearing on her screen.

‘I would be honoured to accept your proposal, sir.’

“Excellent, and Dr. Al-Tayyeb here is a qualified mullah and the documents have already been signed, and so dear wife, let me take you to your new home!”

He pressed a button and the screen faded to black whilst all she could think about were Al-Tayyeb’s words:

“These hoods will erase all possibility of unacceptable thought from our daughters leading to a pure and holy future…”

Copyright © 2009, Dave Potter