brains and turns them into animals.”
“If hair drives men crazy, then Mevr. Brouwer ought to shave her mustache.”
Joury squeals in laughter. Mevr. Brouwer used to be their math teacher. A supremely ugly woman. It is hard to imagine her as an object of desire.
Katrien looks again in the mirror. She barely recognizes herself. She looks tamed, restrained, streamlined, deflated. “I have too much hair. I should just shave it off.”
“You don't have to wear it inside, except at school. And if men outside the family visit your home.”
“So many rules.”
“It's not so bad. You'll get used to it.”
Katrien isn't sure. She doesn't like the cloth over her ears. It makes her scalp itch, her neck sweat. She pulls it off and throws it on the bed.
“What about her?” asks Joury, pointing to a poster of Laura Dekker over Katrien's bed.
“What do you mean?”
“If the mutaween come in here, they'd rip her down.” Joury looks almost titillated by the prospect, which annoys Katrien.
Laura Dekker, who set off to circumnavigate the world by herself when she was fifteen in a 38-foot Jeanneau Gin Fizz ketch named Guppy, is Katrien's idol. Half of the sailing community in The Netherlands saw her off, including Katrien and her father, standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the docks of Den Osse in Zeeland. All after a court battle with the Child Welfare Office, which had tried to prevent her from leaving. Katrien followed every leg of Laura's trip, reading her weekly blog in the Algemeen Dagblad —from her official start in Gibraltar to the Canary Islands to Cape Verde to Sint Maarten through the Panama Canal to the Marquesas Islands to Australia and around the Cape of Good Hope. After seventeen months, Laura arrived in Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten on 21 January 2012. When the war broke out, she was sailing from Tahiti to New Zealand.
Her blog has stopped. The Internet is down. Yet every night Katrien dreams about her, hoping she is sailing, wind blowing in her hair. Hoping she hasn't been stopped in some country overtaken by Islamists.
“I'll make her a headscarf.” Katrien finds a piece of black construction paper in her desk drawer, and uses scissors to cut a form, eying Laura's head as she cuts. She sticks tape on the back of the cutout, and presses it firmly around Laura's head.
“That's pretty good,” says Joury giggling. “It really looks like she's wearing a headscarf.”
“I hope it blows off in the wind,” says Katrien.
The two girls look at the poster. Laura's expression, which had seemed defiant and scornful— Landlubbers are assholes!— now looks downright militant.
“Where do you think she is now?”
Katrien shrugs. Stay on the sea, Laura, she silently pleads .
She looks around the room. What a mess. She begins picking up the scarves and tossing them back in the box, then leaves it. “I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat.”
#
When Joury's mother comes to pick her up, she is wearing a full burka with a veil.
Before the Occupation, Joury's parents were moderate Muslims, who spoke out against Islamic extremism. Her mother was loads of fun. She ran her own toy manufacturing company, and invited children into her factory to test toys. She even had a special room which she rented out cheaply for birthday parties. Everyone adored her. Every month she gets more conservative. Since women can no longer vote or hold jobs, except teaching girls and nursing in women's wards, Joury's mother stays home. She wears her burka even in the mosque, like the old women from Yemen, and will only take off the veil when she is in her own house.
It makes Joury rebellious and a little crazy. Which worries Katrien.
From the time Joury was four, her mother talked about her going to university to become a doctor. She bought her a microscope when she was eight, and had a special savings account for medical school. Now she wants
“If hair drives men crazy, then Mevr. Brouwer ought to shave her mustache.”
Joury squeals in laughter. Mevr. Brouwer used to be their math teacher. A supremely ugly woman. It is hard to imagine her as an object of desire.
Katrien looks again in the mirror. She barely recognizes herself. She looks tamed, restrained, streamlined, deflated. “I have too much hair. I should just shave it off.”
“You don't have to wear it inside, except at school. And if men outside the family visit your home.”
“So many rules.”
“It's not so bad. You'll get used to it.”
Katrien isn't sure. She doesn't like the cloth over her ears. It makes her scalp itch, her neck sweat. She pulls it off and throws it on the bed.
“What about her?” asks Joury, pointing to a poster of Laura Dekker over Katrien's bed.
“What do you mean?”
“If the mutaween come in here, they'd rip her down.” Joury looks almost titillated by the prospect, which annoys Katrien.
Laura Dekker, who set off to circumnavigate the world by herself when she was fifteen in a 38-foot Jeanneau Gin Fizz ketch named Guppy, is Katrien's idol. Half of the sailing community in The Netherlands saw her off, including Katrien and her father, standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the docks of Den Osse in Zeeland. All after a court battle with the Child Welfare Office, which had tried to prevent her from leaving. Katrien followed every leg of Laura's trip, reading her weekly blog in the Algemeen Dagblad —from her official start in Gibraltar to the Canary Islands to Cape Verde to Sint Maarten through the Panama Canal to the Marquesas Islands to Australia and around the Cape of Good Hope. After seventeen months, Laura arrived in Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten on 21 January 2012. When the war broke out, she was sailing from Tahiti to New Zealand.
Her blog has stopped. The Internet is down. Yet every night Katrien dreams about her, hoping she is sailing, wind blowing in her hair. Hoping she hasn't been stopped in some country overtaken by Islamists.
“I'll make her a headscarf.” Katrien finds a piece of black construction paper in her desk drawer, and uses scissors to cut a form, eying Laura's head as she cuts. She sticks tape on the back of the cutout, and presses it firmly around Laura's head.
“That's pretty good,” says Joury giggling. “It really looks like she's wearing a headscarf.”
“I hope it blows off in the wind,” says Katrien.
The two girls look at the poster. Laura's expression, which had seemed defiant and scornful— Landlubbers are assholes!— now looks downright militant.
“Where do you think she is now?”
Katrien shrugs. Stay on the sea, Laura, she silently pleads .
She looks around the room. What a mess. She begins picking up the scarves and tossing them back in the box, then leaves it. “I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat.”
#
When Joury's mother comes to pick her up, she is wearing a full burka with a veil.
Before the Occupation, Joury's parents were moderate Muslims, who spoke out against Islamic extremism. Her mother was loads of fun. She ran her own toy manufacturing company, and invited children into her factory to test toys. She even had a special room which she rented out cheaply for birthday parties. Everyone adored her. Every month she gets more conservative. Since women can no longer vote or hold jobs, except teaching girls and nursing in women's wards, Joury's mother stays home. She wears her burka even in the mosque, like the old women from Yemen, and will only take off the veil when she is in her own house.
It makes Joury rebellious and a little crazy. Which worries Katrien.
From the time Joury was four, her mother talked about her going to university to become a doctor. She bought her a microscope when she was eight, and had a special savings account for medical school. Now she wants
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