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The Black Burqa illustrated, part three
(Undisclosed)

I was just burning some toast to go with the soggy beans for Raafid's supper, when Sfiyah turned up, and she had someone with her. Who? I don't know, she was dressed head to toe in a black burqa. "Hey," Sfiyah said. "Hey hey," I replied, "what's the timing for toast again?" She looked at what was pretty much charcoal. "About ten minutes ago," she answered, "this is Asma. She wants to be a Black Burqa." I blinked. A what? Apparently, my appearance at the masjid had led to some confusion, mostly because Sfiyah also wore a black burqa when she went there to douse the lights. So people already thought there were two of us, and if two, why not three? The great thing about a burqa, is that no-one could actually see me. It was like a disguise, only better. So no-one, except me and Sfiyah, knew the secret identity of the Black Burqa. I suppose Raafid might have guessed, but he was too intimidated by me to tell anyone. It must be terrible to live with someone who, at any time, might inflict painful violence on you. I know this, because that's how I had lived for years and years. "Who was that mysterious woman?" people were asking each other, and the guesses were all over the place. Every woman around here was wearing a niqab with a face veil; a burqa was only a small step further. Who was that masked woman? Asma spoke. "I've been through eight years of beatings. And each time he didn't kill me, he made me stronger. And now I want to be like you, a Black Burqa. I want to help all the women who are being trodden on and treated unjustly. We women are supposed to be treated like queens; too many of us get treated like serfs."

The Black Burqa part three
(Undisclosed)

I was just burning some toast to go with the soggy beans for Raafid's supper, when Sfiyah turned up, and she had someone with her. Who? I don't know, she was dressed head to toe in a black burqa. "Hey," Sfiyah said. "Hey hey," I replied, "what's the timing for toast again?" She looked at what was pretty much charcoal. "About ten minutes ago," she answered, "this is Asma. She wants to be a Black Burqa." I blinked. A what? Apparently, my appearance at the masjid had led to some confusion, mostly because Sfiyah also wore a black burqa when she went there to douse the lights. So people already thought there were two of us, and if two, why not three? The great thing about a burqa, is that no-one could actually see me. It was like a disguise, only better. So no-one, except me and Sfiyah, knew the secret identity of the Black Burqa. I suppose Raafid might have guessed, but he was too intimidated by me to tell anyone. It must be terrible to live with someone who, at any time, might inflict painful violence on you. I know this, because that's how I had lived for years and years. "Who was that mysterious woman?" people were asking each other, and the guesses were all over the place. Every woman around here was wearing a niqab with a face veil; a burqa was only a small step further. Who was that masked woman? Asma spoke. "I've been through eight years of beatings. And each time he didn't kill me, he made me stronger. And now I want to be like you, a Black Burqa. I want to help all the women who are being trodden on and treated unjustly. We women are supposed to be treated like queens; too many of us get treated like serfs."