Sense of Determination
The video was over and as the lights went back on in the room, Kahar stepped forward to the front of the room. He let a moment past as his audience got used to the lights in the room. After the moment had passed, he went on his prepared speech.
“As you all could see in the video just now, a female tourist was caught walking down the street of the city without a veil. As the CCTV showed, this woman was caught by a passing female officer a few months ago at the corner of Forem Street and the Main Square at around 11:50am.” Kahar paused for effect. Seeing that he had everyone’s attention, he continued. “But what we could also see from the video was that we were lucky.” The murmurs started immediately. “The female officer in question was doing her patrol, and if she was a minute early or a minute late; the female tourist would have gotten away with her shameless act.” Kahar has to raise his voice slightly. “It is for this reason that I suggest Trisban implant the City Safety Control system that had been perfected by the country of Vippon.”
The murmurs immediately got louder. “Good, everything is going according to plan.” Kahar thought. And then it all went downhill.
As Kahar put down his cup of tea, he can’t help but shake his head again.
“And so your whole plan was shot down by the women?” Syed laughed. “Sorry but you really should have expected that, my brother.”
Kahar shot an annoyed look at his friend. He has known Syed since they were children. Although he had gone on a…different direction in his adult life, Kahar still consider him a loyal friend, almost a brother. “It was a good, no, a great idea. Just imagine if we had the same system as Vippon? A system where we have an officer looking at the real-time feed from the CCTV; once the officer saw a tourist walking without the veil, he would instantly call the nearest officer who will run to the scene.” Kahar clapped his hand for emphasises. “No luck involved, safety and modesty would be safeguarded.”
Syed did nothing but smiled at him. “Kahar, you know little about women. Both the Ministry of Social Affairs and the Ministry of Home Affairs are under the care of the Trisnette. What makes you think they will take the idea of a man like you seriously?”
“Because it’s a good idea!” Kahar said indigently. “A good idea that has a proven record! But what do they say, “We worry about the system’s lack of respect for privacy and the invasion of personal freedom.” Like hell they do!”
“It’s politics my friend.” Syed took a sip of the tea and said, “You know our country is run by two parallel parliaments. Women are in charge of domestic and social affairs, while men are responsible for economics, defence and international relations. I feel it’s quite natural for the Trisnette to be protective of their turf.” At that, Kahar could only shake his head in denial. Seeing how down his friend was, Syed decided that it was hopeless to talk sense into his friend. It’s time to leave the café. “Come my friend, let’s go. A young beauty has just come to work for me; I’ll let you do her for free this time.”
Kahar’s face brightened at that. Together, the two old friends left the café and walked a short distance to a nearby 3-storey house. It looked like any other house on the street, but anyone who looked closely would wonder about 2 things. Why all the men who went into the house had a guilty look on their face; and why all the men exiting the house looked kind of pleased with themselves.
The answer was simple. Although Trisban is a country with a strong hierarchical nature, it is also has a highly traditional society divided along sexual lines. Men and women have very different, distinct roles in society and very seldom were they crossed. As such, men and women usually don’t come into contact with each other. For young, unmarried men like Kahar, that’s a problem. A problem that men like Syed has the solution for.
Syed was a licensed pimp. Operating out of houses along Alher Street, this was the only area where prostitution was allowed. As a society, Trisbanians had long discovered that prostitution was not something you can get rid of, but you can control it. So laws were set that allowed prostitutes to operate out of Alher Street, provided they were healthy and free of any diseases. Pimps like Syed were allowed to operate out of the area as they provided safety for the women and they also made sure the women exactly went for their monthly medical check-ups. Of course, the high taxes they pay also helped matters.
As Kahar entered the house, he immediately went and sat on the couch awaiting his turn. As usual, he was amazed at the cleanliness of the lounge and knew from experience, the rest of the house was no different. As a personal friend of the operator, Kahar didn’t have to wait long. Syed directed him to a room at the top storey of the house.
Kahar entered the room and was greeted by a woman covered fully by a burqa. The veil covered every part of the woman and even the eye mesh was covered heavily. According to Syed, men (his customers) prefer it this way as it gave them the illusion of being with a proper woman. Some even prefer to have sex with the burqa on, telling the prostitute to only lift up the burqa to the waist. However, Kahar don’t have such a fetish. His is slightly different.
As he took the cane that was hanging by wall, Kahar told the woman to take off the burqa. When he turned back, he saw the most beautiful naked woman he had ever seen. He will admit that’s a small number but the woman in front of him was gorgeous. Kahar knew that the woman must have been driven to prostitution by poverty, like most prostitutes throughout the world, but wondered how did Syed managed to get his hands on such a specimen.
“Bend over,” he said. As the woman bend over, Kahar stepped behind her with the cane. The sound echoed as Kahar smacked the cane onto the beautiful ass of the woman. The woman stood in prefect position as the cane came down again. By the third strike, Kahar saw that the woman was still not moving. He knew his problem immediately.
Kahar found that his heart wasn’t into the caning like he used to. The woman was too beautiful for him to bear to hit. Shaking his head in disbelief, he was that the woman had turned back to see why had the caning stopped. “Put the burqa back on.”
As the woman slipped the burqa back on, Kahar could felt that he had solved the problem. The burqa had turned the gorgeous creature back into an object and for the first time in his life, Kahar could fully understand why the burqa was necessary for social order. His mind and heart were distracted by the beauty of an unknown whore. What will happen if they allowed women to walk the streets of Trisban without veils? Yes, with new conviction, Kahar knew that the country needed the City Safety Control system. He will go back and build a powerbase in both the Trisnette and the Trisnarch, and he will ensure that no female skin will ever be shown on the streets of Trisban; modesty will reign on the streets of Trisban. Kahar discovered that the woman was watching him again. He must thank her for his new sense of determination. “Bend over whore.”
This time, he had no problem.
Condor Point was a cliff that overlooks the city of Trisban. Named after the long gone condors that used to make the cliffs home, the cliff is a major tourist location and everyday, many foreigners will visit the site for a beautiful view of the city and the stunning sunrise.
Another well-known fact was that a lot of young men in the city had recently made a point to jog up to Condor Point in the morning for the view. The elder folks in Trisban were pleasantly surprised by this. Young men of the city were not known for their love of physical activity, and this recent trend of jogging had their full approval. “If only they knew the truth,” Kahar thought.
Kahar admit Condor Point was a lovely place. It was the perfect place for a meeting, but just not the place to meet for a potential political alliance. Kahar could tell that’s what the old man was thinking now, and this did not surprise him.
Hassan bin Abdul Malek was one of the richest men in Trisban and Kahar scored a coup just to get a meeting with him. In his youth, the old man was one of the traders who travelled across the world for the glory (and money) of Trisban. He had been everywhere from Vippon to Himbaya to Alzima, scoring business deals one after another. In his old age, Hassan now wanted more than money; he wanted power. However, for all his business success, the old man was finding success in the political world much harder to achieve. Something Kahar had promised to help him in; and currently the old man was wondering if he had wasted his time.
“This plan of yours had been tried before,” the old man said. “The ones that came before you failed. What make you think you will succeed?”
The old man had a slow and deliberated way of speaking but Kahar did not mind. In fact he admired the care Hassan put in the choosing of his word, such care would be necessary in the future. “It is true that others in the past had tried to forge an alliance between the Trisnette and the Trisnarch,” Kahar said. “But these alliances never lasted long as the power struggled between the two sides makes a long-term arrangement impossible.”
The old man’s eye brow lifted slightly, “So why should this new alliance you want to set-up succeed when so many others had failed?”
“Because I do not intend this to be an equal alliance,” Kahar smiled. “As you well know sir, the Trisnette and the Trisnarch are separate entities in charge of different sectors of public life in Trisban. Each is careful that they do not intervene in the business of the other side, in the interest of keeping order.” Hassan nodded in agreement. “It is my view sir that the only way for a long-lasting political alliance to take place is to find a common cause which both side are willing to fight for.”
“And that cause would be…?”
“The subjection of women under the rule of men”
“Now I know I have wasted my time.” The old man scoffed, “How in the world are you going to get women to agree to that?”
“It’s not as hard as it sound,” Kahar argued. “We just have to have a return to our traditions.”
Hassan’s eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Trisban IS a traditional country.”
“The locals are, but with the influx of foreigners and their ideas, our traditions are beginning to be slowly eroded.”
“That is something that can be argued against by anyone. As long as the foreigners pay respect to our traditions and the money keeps coming in, the people are more than happy to allow them into the country.”
“Money? Are our values for sale? Do we allow these foreigners to laugh at our traditions because of money?”
“Who said they are laughing at us? Most of the mistakes made by the foreigners are more due to ignorance than anything else? Once they know the rules, most respect our culture.”
“They don’t you know. Respect our culture I mean.”
“What make you say that?”
Hassan’s eyebrow lifted again. “It’s sunrise,” Kahar said. “Why don’t you take a look at the beautiful sunrise?”
With a puzzled look, the old man turned towards the horizon. They were not at the edge of the cliff and Hassan could see that there were many people there already, including some women. After a few minutes, he blinked.
It wasn’t a mistake! He could clearly see the shadow of the woman’s legs. The fabric of the burqa was so light that the rays of the sun made it possible to see the outline of her legs! No, that’s wrong. Hassan looked around and he could see that several other women also had the same kind of problems with their burqa.
A hand touched his arm and Hassan turned around, the shock was so great that he was surprised Kahar was still there.
“That’s why young men called it ‘The Great Sunrise’.”
Kahar waved his hand around them. “Don’t you wonder why so many young men now run up Condor Point in the morning?” As realization dawned on the old man, Kahar continued, “It first started with some foreigners who found the burqa too ‘restrictive’, they then found some tailors who made burqas from a lighter fabric. I don’t when exactly Condor Point became a hot-spot for gawking, but it’s pretty well-known among the younger people of our city.”
“I will protest this…”
“They are doing nothing wrong.” Kahar explained, “They are fully covered in the burqa as required by law. They are following the law, but in their own way, they mocked our traditions.”
“They are not following the spirit of the burqa,” Hassan argued. “Someone will do something about this when the Trisnette and the Trisnarch hear about this.”
“The Trisnette already knows about this.” The old man looked at Kahar in surprise. “It was how I first heard of this.”
The old man nodded. “The Trisnarch then!”
“Who? Maybe Harran Horem will listen to you,” The reputation of the Speaker of the Trisnarch was well-known to all, and Kahar knew for a fact old Hassan can’t stand the man. “He will not insult the foreigners for you. They bring in too much money.”
That was just the simple truth and they both know it. Silently, the old man nodded and the alliance was formed.
In the present…
“…and that’s where we are now.” Kahar paused his story as he swung the heavy cane at the ass of the woman, “The old man is a crafty bastard, he already has a plan in motion you know,” the sound of the hit echoed in the room, “…a good one too. Brilliant even, but I guess such things are too intelligent for womenfolk to understand right?”
Kahar laughed at his own joke. The woman in front of him was another prostitute recommended by Syed. Only this one was recommended not for her beauty but for the fact she was a foreigner who did not understand the Trisban language. The perfect woman for Kahar to speak to about the plots he helped put in motion. Kahar swung the can again and smiled as it struck the object again.
The object, as Kahar preferred to think of the prostitute, was in a burqa and bended over; giving Kahar beautiful shots at her ass. “Kneeled” The woman dropped to her knees as Kahar commanded. Kahar tapped his cane to the ground in front of the woman and the woman bowed her head to the ground. “This is how woman should be,” Kahar thought, “Obeying men without question, on their hands and knee with their ass in the air!”
Kahar used the cane to lift the back of the burqa. He felt an immense rush when he saw the red welts on the object’s ass. Kahar went behind her and dropped his pants. Without ceremony, he entered her. Outside a small cry of pain, the woman stayed in her position.
Not for the first time, Kahar wondered how his friend Syed managed to train his women so well. They were respectful, quiet, and utterly obedient; everything Kahar wanted in a woman. Kahar smile got bigger as he added to his list. They were also stupid (not knowing the language) and eager to please. If only all women are like that!
Kahar smiled. “Why can’t all women be like this?” he thinks, “this is just the beginning.”
The immediate task the 2 men faced was to get information. Hassan’s plan reflected his personality; it was brilliant, simple and it required patience. The last of which is something Kahar does possess a lot of.
The old man owned 2 newspapers in the city. Both had pretty small circulation and survived mostly due to the money of Hassan. When the old man ‘advised’ the editors to investigate the young men who ran up Condor Point, the newspapermen were more than willing to help. Hassan requested that they came back to him with their findings before publishing anything was greeted as an annoyance, but one they could not refuse.
When they discovered the light fabric burqa, both editors rushed to Hassan for permission to release the news immediately. To their frustration, Hassan refused their requests. The old man told them to get more information on the story, saying that he wanted in depth reporting on this scandal.
Kahar could understand the editors’ frustrations. Here was the biggest story of the year and they were blocked by their benefactor for no apparent reason whatsoever. If not for the fact that the old man had shared his plan with him, Kahar would probably be tearing out his hair as well.
After over one month of legwork, Hassan gave his editors the go-ahead.
The results were explosive. Although it had been forty years already, the memory of the Marriage Riots was still fresh in the minds of the general public. Their mood was not helped by the fact that most of the people on Condor Point were young men and women born and bred in Trisban.
Reporters had secretly tailed various people from Condor Point back to their home and discovered that most of them were Trisbanians. News reports from Hassan’s papers made it clear that although foreigners first started this trend, the majority of the people on Condor Point were not foreigners and only with their country’s respect for privacy were the names of these people not published.
By this time other newspapers in the city jumped on the bandwagon. Staying one step ahead of them was essential as Kahar and Hassan wanted to dictate the direction where the story would end up.
As the other papers were reporting on Condor Point, both newspapers belonging to Hassan round up on the young men and women that were up on Condor Point. The young men were criticized for lying about the reasons why they were up on Condor Point, while the women were roundly criticized for forgetting the history and traditions of Trisban. Both newspapers published commentaries by ‘experts’ who criticized the moral decline of the country and calls for a return to traditional values. Hassan’s name was foremost in the line of these ‘experts’.
Still this was not enough. As expected, the political elites of Trisban tried their best to ignore the growing public anger. They neither want to target the foreigners who are bringing in all the money nor do they want to target the young men and women on Condor Point.
Private investigators hired by Hassan had discovered that most of the young people on Condor Point were from some of the richest and most powerful families in Trisban. Although they never published any names, the Hassan newspapers (as they were now called) played up this fact and general public anger increased. With the increase in anger, Hassan and Kahar had turned a social issue into a political one and even Harran Horem, the great Speaker of the Trisnarch, had to reverse course on the issue. Now came the hard part for the duo. They have to take advantage of it.
“A new school?” Syed looked at his friend in shock. “For women?”
“For young girls to be exact,” Kahar corrected. “We plan to call it “The Academy of Modesty and Traditional Behavior”.
“And you want me as a…teacher?”
“The discipline master.” The sound of Kahar’s cane echoed in the room. “Is it a problem?”
“Considering that I am working as a pimp,” Syed said sarcastically. “I can think of no reason why the parents of these young girls will have a problem with me as a teacher there.”
“Oh, we will not advertise that fact.” Kahar said. “Besides, you are not going to have sex with any of them. Just train them the same way you do with your whores.”
Syed pointed the woman kneeling in front of the two men. “These are whores. The girls in your school are not!”
“So what?” Kahar strike the ass of the object again with his cane. “A woman is a woman and I know that you never rape any of your girls to get them obedient. You beat them; you starve them; you even fed them some drugs that make them more willing to listen to your suggestive control, but you don’t do rape.”
“And that’s a good thing in your school?” Syed asked disbelievingly.
“You are successful in getting girls obedient. That’s what the school is for.” Kahar stopped his beating to admire the red welts on the object’s ass.
Looking up at his friend, Kahar felt that it was time to go into his prepared speech. “Look this is the short version of how things are Syed. The old man and myself are going to start a school to mould the younger generation of woman in our country. We need teachers that have experience drilling obedience into girls. I thought of you.” Kahar put up his hand to stop Syed’s counter. “I know you. You are not into the pain and humiliation thing like me. What really gets you on is that you can get a totally normal woman and turn her into a prefect slave that will not even think of disobeying you. You are into this control thing. Am I right or not?”
Kahar waited for Syed’s reluctant nod before continuing. “Right now you are training woman from foreign countries, the lower classes of society and such; I am giving you here a chance to get your hands on the best bred girls our country has to offer. The cream of womanhood in a place where they will be left for you to mould without interference with everything being legal! The parents will have to sign some forms that the school have total control of the students there.” Kahar waited for everything to sink in. “My friend; can you really say “No” to my offer?”
Syed responded as Kahar expected. Kahar told Hassan the news the next day and the foundation for the “The Academy of Modesty and Traditional Behavior” was laid down a month later. It was the start of a new era.