To non-Muslims, you were to say, “We try to build bridges between different ethnic and religious groups. We work to span diverse worldviews in order to facilitate understanding and contact between people with different religious affiliations.” You were not to mention anything about sacrificing yourself, but should use words like “equality” and “dialogue” and invite them to come along for a chat, preferably at Islam Net’s information stand on Karl Johans Gate. “Do not make any reference to people converting,” was written on the sheet.
Ayan began with the people she knew. Ivana and Ela, the Catholic and the Protestant. She sent an identical message to both a couple of weeks before Christmas 2010: “Hi you, a little debate that’s taking place, maybe you’d like to come along?” She attached an invitation to a meeting at Islam Net.
Ivana was busy with her drama program, Ela was following her dream and had started a band with her classmates Alex and Håkon, who had been in Ayan’s class all through primary and lower secondary. They were now in the music program with Ela and had big plans for their band—Kid Astray.
Ayan invited the whole band to the meetings at Islam Net. None of them went. She continued sending invites.
Håkon swiped through the material that kept on coming in on his mobile phone and mailbox. He went onto Islam Net’s home page and quickly decided it was not for him. He was struck in particular by what was written about homosexuals, premarital sex, and the covering up of women. He was surprised that tough, stand-up-for-your-rights Ayan had become a member of something like that. He could not get his head around it. Alex agreed. What had happened to Ayan? Then they forgot about it, did not have time to mull it over. They were making new friends and new girlfriends, and in time the invitations from Ayan felt pretty much like spam. If anyone was Kid Astray, it was her.
At Nesbru, Ayan handed out invites in class, pinned them up on bulletin boards, and taped them onto lampposts. In spring 2011, as her first year drew to a close, she told Knut Gundersen she had joined a Muslim youth group and was wondering if some of the leaders could come to the school to give a presentation. Certainly, the form teacher replied, always happy to see pupils taking an active interest in things. “Just ask them to e-mail me and we can work something out.”
Islam Net promptly got in touch with him to arrange a suitable time. Gundersen thought he ought to find out about the organization. He went online and the first hit he got was an article in the tabloid VG, accusing Islam Net of running an intolerant “convert school” that branded those who disagreed with them as infidels. The organization had also faced criticism for inviting controversial imams accused of radicalizing young Norwegian Muslims. Gundersen continued reading.
“Islam Net is taking Norway in a dangerous direction,” warned Abid Raja, a lawyer and leader of the centrist Liberal Party. “They want to assume ownership of how Muslims think and act.” The Norwegian Pakistani, who had been awarded the Fritt Ord freedom of speech award the same year, claimed that a number of the speakers supported the death penalty for lapsed Muslims, praised holy war, defended violence against women, and were in favor of the stoning of homosexuals. Akhtar Chaudhry, a Socialist Left Party politician and the first non-Western deputy speaker of the Norwegian Parliament, agreed: “Young Muslims should interpret our religion in line with the democratic and humane values of Norwegian society.”
Older Muslims were skeptical. Established mosques did not welcome the growth of Islam Net. Knut Gundersen got cold feet. In addition to the two politicians’ warnings about Islam Net, there was something in the tone of the e-mails he got from Islam Net that rubbed him the wrong way, that did not sit well with the open, international atmosphere of the school.
Islam Net never came to Nesbru.
7
EATING WITH THE DEVIL
The Somali mothers in Bærum were dissatisfied with the Koran instruction their children were receiving. Sometimes Sadiq would give lessons, other times one of the other fathers. They taught some verses from the holy book, a little about Muhammad, a few Arab words, before letting the children go outside to play, perhaps eat a bit. It was, the mothers felt, too slapdash. All they do is play.
Sara and a couple of the others had learned of a popular Koran teacher from someone at the Tawfiiq Mosque in the city. They agreed to ask him to meet with them. Mustafa was young, not yet twenty years old, but already a respected and sought-after teacher. He spoke in a calm, mellow voice, came across as knowledgeable, and made the mothers feel he understood what they wanted, that he was on their side. He promised a stricter framework for the teaching. The handsome young man, who concealed the early onset of baldness beneath a prayer cap, charmed them. They decided to divide his fee among them. Money from social security, paychecks, and housekeeping budgets went into the kitty for the new Koran tutor. Classes would take place on Sundays, at their homes, on a rotational basis. The mothers would provide food but would not be involved otherwise.
Around the same time Islam Net began to develop, the fathers who’d been doing the teaching until then met the new tutor.
“Weak in Arabic grammar,” Sadiq concluded.
“Extremist,” the other father said.
But when it came to the children, Somali tradition favored the mothers’ decision.
At the first lesson, Mustafa asked the youngsters to form a ring around him on the floor, boys on one side, girls on the other. A couple of the
