She held a similar view about the capture of Western vessels by Somali pirates in the Gulf of Aden. “The West has dumped toxic waste off the coast of Somalia to break us, forcing us to engage in piracy to defend our country.”
She was happy about soldiers being killed in Afghanistan, she said. NATO forces were subduing the population and were guilty of mass murder. In Iraq, it was the Americans who were the real terrorists.
The teacher of politics and human rights had once considered Ayan a credit to the class. Yes, her views were extreme, but that promoted discussion because they were also consistent, and rational to a degree, even though he thought she had a penchant for conspiracy theories. Throughout the spring of 2013 the tone became harder.
Ayan was of the opinion that sharia should be introduced in Norway. It would put a stop to problems like criminality, drug abuse, and social distinctions, she argued. Changing the school rules would be a step on the way. She launched a petition.
“Give me the opportunity to prove that the niqab does not create problems for communication between people! Give me the opportunity to express myself!” the heading read, and then in a slightly thicker font: “Is that too much to ask?”
“Yes, Ayan!” one person replied, alongside a drawing of a reconciliatory heart.
Ayan collected almost 150 signatures.
Part of her wanted to change the rules to suit her, another part did not give a damn. From January in her final year, she consistently broke another social contract: paying your bills.
It began with some clothes she ordered at the start of the year, items to wear beneath her niqab. On the receipt it said Seductive Comfort Bra. Femme Lace Top. Davida Deep Plunge. Frib Top. Lea Slipper. The alluring names were reprinted again and again, on every payment reminder.
In addition to the lace underwear, she ordered a waterproof first aid kit from the Red Cross and creams and soaps from Yves Rocher. The products came as ordered, and the invoices were all tossed aside.
Reminders. Final demands. Notices of debt collection. The charges quickly stacked up.
They haunted her only slightly.
* * *
Ayan had taken on the status of leader for a group of Somali girls. They met regularly at a room above the Gunerius shopping center in Storgata. The room was leased by a Somali association. They ate halal pizza, chatted, and schooled one another. One of them introduced the word “whoreway” about Norway, and thereafter they referred to it as that.
Ayan was quick to criticize those who were not as strict in their beliefs as she was, and some, even like-minded people, perceived her to be a bit of a bully. She had gone from being open and approachable to sarcastic, patronizing, and loud. She was persuasive, was good at organizing, and liked to be in charge. Now and again the girls gave talks to the group. Ayan wanted to talk about Norwegians’ views of Islam. Her premise was that Norwegians hated Muslims. She demonstrated her theory with selected quotations from critics of Islam. Norway wanted to destroy Islam, she explained, and read aloud extracts from Islam critics’ blogs. How could the girls live in a country that did not respect them?
The parents had little idea what their daughters were up to. The mothers stayed at home for the most part, looking after large broods, and had seldom been out in working life; their fathers were often absent.
One of the girls inspired by Ayan was Samira, a Somali from one of the inner-city areas of Oslo. She had, like Ayan, been a rebel in lower secondary school and an advocate for women’s liberation and rights. The writer Camilla Collett, who had described the aimless existence of bourgeois women in the nineteenth century, had been a particular heroine of hers.
Samira’s mother, one of the people behind the initiative for Muslim primary schools in Oslo, had believed her daughter was becoming too Norwegian, and following the summer holidays after Samira’s first year in secondary school she had left Samira behind with some relatives in Hargeisa while the rest of the family returned to Oslo. Samira had cried and begged to go back home to Norway with them, but to no avail; her mother had taken her passport and left. She received no schooling in Hargeisa other than intensive Koran studies, and there was nowhere to run away to. When, after two years in Somaliland, she was allowed to return to Oslo, she was neatly gathered into the fold. Her mother breathed a sigh of relief. Now it was time to marry her off.
The voice of Camilla Collett, from a time that was not yet over, echoed: Our destiny is to be married, not to be happy.
* * *
“Come on, Samira,” Ayan urged.
The one who had inspired her to put a foot forward was the Koran teacher. He was said to have close ties to al-Shabaab, a terrorist organization that had carried out a series of attacks in Somalia and other parts of Africa. In 2012 the group had pledged allegiance to al-Qaida. Mustafa knew many of the Norwegians who had gone to Syria, and he was rumored to help those who wanted to travel there. People said he was discreet; the initiative had to come from the other party, never from him. He hinted at things, avoided being explicit, but the people he met and the students he taught understood that if they wished to approach him, they would not be rejected.
The notion of Syria had grown in Ayan’s mind. That was where they were going to create a caliphate—an ideal Islamic state. That was where she could live freely.
She wanted the lot of them
