Her Name is Najat, Fatiha and Malika – On White Marriages for Papers

After tweeting Belgium today, I had to charge the smart phone. While it was charging, I thought to prepare this story for you :

Last Saturday, I was up early because I necessarily wanted to go early to the bathing house, to avoid bumping into the same Moroccan young woman who met me there on 18 March between 15:45H and 17:15H, and who tried to get to know me better.  Half an hour before I arrive at the bathing house, I e-mailed you that was going there.  I knew that the mafia was going to receive it.

She was wearing a large bright red head scarf and she was standing at the entrance and greeted me with two kisses and a big smile “oh how are it’s been a long time… oh I am sorry I think I mistook you for someone I know, but you look so much like her”.  (yeah right) “I am convinced that I don’t know you, I am sorry”, I answered.  I went inside to find an empty cabin.

Everything was full.  I sat down and she came sitting next to me.   She was so sickly inquisitive on where I was living, if I come from far and if I was married and so on.  When she asked what my name, I gave her another name – I don’t remember what the name was which I gave (it is by the way the reason why I don’t like lying – it is because I may not remember what the lye was.  The truth is easier to remember)  .  I only remember saying that I was married with three children between 22 and 25 years and that they are out of the house and attending university in another country, and that I came to the showers because of a problem with the heating.

She couldn’t believe that I had children of that age.  “I would give you 25 yourself”.  “No I am almost a grandmother, I am 52”, I said.   “How do you do it for looking so young”, she answered.   I told her “there is only one way for doing this: it is by limiting the number of diseases”.   “What do you mean”, she asked.   “I mean not to introduce diseases to the body”.  “How do diseases enter in the body”, she asked like a stupid ace.  “Through the sex, didn’t you know that ?” I asked.   She was dumbstruck and quiet for a moment… “Well this is the first time I hear such an explanation.   “That is the explanation for looking like 25 at age 52, I have no other explanation for this…  Didn’t you know that marrying and divorcing and marrying a second man, and perhaps a third can have devastating consequences on the female health at a later stage… Of course it also depends on the behavior of the man.  He too can bring diseases for the wife if he has an unstable sexual life, and in many cases he will accuse the wife of infecting him.

She was mesmerized.  I began to have the feeling that she was sent when she pretended that I know the Allali family in Antwerp, “a family with no shame… come on, you don’t know them?  Everybody knows them…. I am sure you know these people too.  Anyway they have a daughter who is married and she is cheating her husband with someone else… She died in a car accident and she was naked”… She kept on talking to me about how scandalous it was.  I was not impressed.  “… and did you hear about their father, he hangs around in the cafés where he is known to be a homo-sexual.  He first goes to his boyfriends and then he goes to have sex with his wife… but you are so interesting that I want to know you better… I would like to become your friend”.  That she wants to associate me with people who I do don’t know and that she tells me thing that I don’t want to hear felt tricky.  She felt like trying to associate me in a scandal related to sex and cafés, or perhaps with nudity by having a picture of me naked on Facebook or so.

A young man just came out (the shower department is mixed sexes and there are separate cabins which you can lock from inside).  “It’s your turn”, I said to her, “you were here before me”.       She stood up, she went to have a look and she returned and said “no this is a shower…. and I am want the one with the bathtub”.  I took my bag, I stood up and I took the cabin, because we only had one hour and half before closing time.   I also realized that all she wanted to know was in which cabin I entered so to have full control over where I was heading to next.

When she entered her cabin she shouted a few times “hey you there, I still want to talk to you”.  I didn’t answer because I didn’t think it was meant for me.   She didn’t stop shouting “hey wait for me when you finish okay ?”  “Are you talking to me ?”, I shouted back.  “Yes!”  “I will wait for you”, I said, even though I wasn’t going to do that.

She was finished rather quickly and not like someone who needed to relax in the bathtub, like she said.  It was clear that she came with another plan than getting washed.

I went in wearing trousers inside boots.  I came out, wearing leggings and plastic sandals.  I told her that I wasn’t returning home immediately, “I am going to finish dressing up and putting make up in the dressing room for women near the swimming pool”.   I was hoping she would go home.  Instead, she said, I ‘ll come with you.

When we were there, she started shouting “oh men also come here, this is mixed”.  “This is not mixed and by the way I am dressed”.   “Yes I am sure this is mixed”, she insisted by writing her own rules of the house.  A woman came in.  “Is this a man ?”, I asked her, “why does she come here ?”, I asked her.

Before revealing what I thought about her, I asked her questions “and what’s your name”.  “My name is Najat, but some people call me Fatiha”, she answered.   “Fatiha what?  Do you have a family name?” I asked her.   She almost shook her head, “call me just Fatiha” she recommended.    “So your name is just Fatiha”… I repeated.

While I was putting on moisturizer (coconut oil and all purpose cream of Dove), I noticed how she was following my hands to see what I was taking out of the bag.  I decided to limit the make up to blush and mascara, because I was getting too nervous for eyeliner and eye shadow with so much negative attention from her.

“Are you taking the trolley” she asked.  “Yes, I am taking the trolley because I live far from here…. and where do you live?” I  asked her.  “I live just around here” she answered.  “Where is that precisely, do you know the street ?” I asked.  “You see, when you come out of the bathing house, you make a turn and it’s down there”.  “Just around here, just down there, now it is Fatiha, then it is Najat  …. look, if you want to be my friend, you have to be precise in everything you say, otherwise I am not going to become your friend ever” I warned.  I suspected she was sent by my mother and Ina Valster.   She might be their slave if they arranged for her to get married only for the papers.

Earlier, I asked her if she was married and if she has children.   She told me that she was divorced without any children.  “What a shame” I noted.   Then, I asked her if she doesn’t miss her husband,  “No, not at all”, she had answered.

Now I went a bit further in the questioning.  I asked “did you come to Belgium through a marriage for the papers only ?”    “Yeah, somewhat like that” she answered as if this is a normal thing to do.   “Do you pray and you go to the Mosque ?” I asked her.   “Yes, I go to the Mosque” she answered.   “Me too” I lied, “which Mosque you go to, perhaps we can meet there”.   “I go mostly to Bilal sometimes another”, she answered.

I suddenly took more time for putting on the trousers on top of the legging and then the boots, I asked her if I was not holding her up with the many things I have to do.  “No” she answered, “I wait until we go out together”.   So that she can follow and see in which direction I was going home.  That is when I said to her “you know what ?  I have a strong feeling that you were sent by somebody to follow me everywhere.  She asked me to swear (like saying Wallah, Qasimin Billah).   I didn’t know how to tell her that I am not into swearing.  I don’t do that.  “when I say something, it is because I really mean it.  Somebody sent you here and that is what I think of you…ehm whatever your name is… That is what I truly feel and therefore I don’t want your friendship”.   She was quiet and very surprised.  She said “sobhan Allah” (only God knows).  It was clear that she was stunned.  She stood up and she became politer she greeted me and she left.     She left between 17:20h and 17:40 h.  I waited 10 minutes before I went out of the building.

Yet, the meeting with this woman was not completely bad, because she was not totally negative.  There was a moment in the beginning, when I talked to her about the diseases, that she was so stunned with this viewpoint that she seemed like wondering if others were not misjudging me.     When she talked to me about the Allali family she said that it does happen that people make up stories about others as well, “I mean, someone who is not doing anything wrong or someone who only had one relationship and that they would follow a person anywhere to check on her life or to avenge… that could backfire, Rabbi Ikhalass (God sanctions)”

That is how I know that she was sent by my mother who is getting increasingly anxious about where I am and terrified of receiving a divorce letter from my father.   Instead of turning to truth about everything (which is that she messed everything up in 1990 with the arrest and the false accusations of making papers for illegal people), she continues to look for ways to distort my image, because that is how she thinks she can save her marriage.

I plan to force her to speak the truth after I show my father the police report with Valstar on it, as an option for coming out of it clean.

On Monday 27 March 2017, when I was on my way to the computer resource center, I arrived at the bus stop at 10:15 AM. I was holding my computer case, because I needed to retrieve older documents from the hard disk.  Some 10 minuted later a woman arrived at the same bus stop.  She was looking down and I was wondering where I had seen that face before.   She was dressed in black from head to toe.   I would have recognized her sooner if she had a red scarf on.  “That is her”, I thought.

I began walking on foot instead of waiting for the bus.   30 meters further, I looked around if perhaps the tram was coming.  I noticed that the woman was following me.  She was like 5 or 6 meters behind me.

I made a 180° turn and I went back to the bus stop, to see if she was following me again.  She wasn’t.  The tram came and I jumped in.  I took my smart phone and kept it ready to take a video of her.   I noticed that she was talking over the phone and pointing with her finger in all directions.  When she noticed the camera, she turned around very quickly to cover her face.

I am pretty sure that she was talking to my mother and based on the mobile phone communications the police can find out who the woman is.  The woman declared that she married for the papers only and I am prepared to witness of that.  The Belgian police should find out who the people are who arranged the white marriage for her to come here.

I don’t think that marriage is something that the people should use for getting residence papers in another country.  I would like the Islamic authorities to inform and keep informing the people that mockery with marriage is condemnable.  It is human trade.  It takes very bad turns for the woman who primarily fall in the prostitution-slavery through this channel.   You can listen to a witness talking about this.

They should repeat this in the Mosques that marriage for paper is human trade and it is forbidden, because while it puts some off track,  it puts others off from getting married at all.

The Belgian authorities should revoke the residence papers of people who married for the sake of papers, and they should send them back to their countries of origin within the 24 hours.  They are likely here just to disturb the lives of other people who seek advancement and to change their identity, just like Najat was doing to me, or was it Malika or… what was her name again, Fatiha ?

Naima Mouali

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