A day of a Terrorist
Posted on 5:07 AM by ELY Mustapha
Are you ready to take what belongs to you, with God’s help?”
Twenty-five years of misery contained buried in
his unconscious arose and took by storm the ramparts of his last conscious
fatalistic.
This morning, when he
painfully pulled himself out of the semblance of a rag that served him as a
mattress on the floor of the tin shack that was sheltering him, he, his two
younger brothers and sisters and their mother, he still had aches and pains the
day before and the indescribable bitter taste that haunted his mouth. He
mechanically turned his eyes away from the members of his little family huddled
together to escape the cold. They occupied, pitiful, the small patched mat of
the corner least exposed to the wind that shook the house.
He got up as usual at the
muezzin's first call. Dawn was already dawning and he began to curse his
miserable condition and the thought that kept him awake late into the night.
The little stingy arm that protruded from the skin cover that covered his
little family attracted his attention. He gently took it back under the blanket
and felt, suddenly, a dull revolt rising to his throat. How can he bear the
misery of his own? How, during all his sleepless nights, he had rehearsed what
his little brother had told him: "Big brother, I'm hungry, I want
something to eat ... I have only eaten a little bread since this morning and
you left a long time and you did not bring us anything. "
He had promised to come out to
get some food. He wiped away the tears that rose in the younger brother's eyes.
He knew, however, that he was still coming back empty-handed when he fell
asleep.
That night, he had come out,
but he had gone to the mosque. It was for him, in poverty, a refuge where, on
an empty stomach, he began to meditate and to implore the benefits of God.
That evening, he met a
newcomer, a new character he did not know among the regulars of the mosque. He
greeted the attendants as he entered the mosque, and then sat down in the
corner and waited for the Imam to arrive to begin the dusk prayer.
His appearance, like that of
all the regulars of the mosque of this very poor district, thrown on the
outskirts of the city, made one see his condition. Shredded clothes and sandals
a thousand times patched..
He felt that someone was
looking at him, he turned around and saw the newcomer who was staring intently
at him and who invited him to join him on the wide prayer rug he had unfurled.
He joined him not without some apprehensions. Newcomers were rare, as was
everything in this mosque. As far back as he can remember, the most recent
object was the fasting calendar of the month of Ramadan of the year 1420 AH,
which was graciously sent by the Ministry of Islamic Affairs and now yellowed
defiant wall, like the wide plates of painted paintings, the universal
attraction.
He greeted the person who
invited him and sat next to him. A silence was made which was immediately
interrupted by his host. "Thank you for joining me, I just arrived here
and I do not know anyone yet and I see, to your knowledge of the place, that
you are a regular at this mosque." He did not understand how he could be
useful to him and asked about it.
The character held him almost
this language: "My brother, I seek to know people of faith who are in
solidarity to change this society. We are victims of this corrupt society and
we must take what belongs to us, with the help of God. "
The words of this unexpected
"preacher" echoed in his ears like a gong. An alarm that was
triggered.
How could he explain that? It
was like a buried aspiration that has just been revealed by the words of this
stranger. He was not accustomed to this kind of speech, but rather to that of
resignation, in which every act that was done was painful in the hereafter. In
this world, all the culprits will be punished by God when the time comes. To
seek revenge by oneself is a disbelief and exposes to the worst divine
sanctions. That's what he always learned. And yet, he had heard that the law of
retaliation existed in Islam ... He prided himself on curiosity and engaged in
dialogue:
- Dear preacher "what
belongs to us" and who does not belong to God? And whoever touches what
belongs to God will suffer the wrath in the hereafter. We humans have nothing.
- My brother, everything
belongs to God, it's true, including ourselves. However, we are the guardians
here below. And we must ensure its preservation and fair distribution. We must
account for it to God. But what do we notice? Unbelievers do what they want
while real Muslims like you, are deprived of what is yours.
- But God will punish them ...
"Certainly, and his
punishment will not be the same, but it is not exclusive of the punishment of
men. Does not God have in his holy Koran the rules and the penalties of the
guilty and the criminals?
- Certainly …
- So he has left men well, the
power to make their own justice. And so each of us must do justice, because
each of us is an indefectible member of the foundation of Muslim society.
- Each of us must do justice?
But it's the business of the state ...
- You see what the state has
become. A place where corruption, theft of your property is not even punished.
It means that the state is helpless and you with it, if you do not react and do
not take what belongs to you with the help of God.
If "you do not take what
belongs to you with the help of God," that sentence still resonated in his
brain ... He did not understand it too well yet, but it was like an answer to
something that had been bothering him for a long time and who was carpeted in
his deepest misery. And all at once the image of his little brother, whose face
was wet with tears, who was trying to fall asleep, stabbed by hunger, came to
his memory:
-
"But,"
he said, "I have nothing. My father suddenly left home leaving three
children, of whom I am, on the arms of my poor mother, who fought to feed us
... I have nothing.
- But if, brother, you have
everything, but they took everything ...
- Who they " ?
- Look around you, they are
everywhere. And you see them every day. But, he does not see you ...
- They do not see me? How is
it possible ?
- For them you do not exist.
He understood more and more
badly. What does this "preacher" mean to him? He was about to get up,
when he held him by the sleeve and asked him to sit down again.
- Did not God
say, "The true believers are those whose hearts shudder when one mentions
Allah? And when His verses are recited to them, it increases their faith. And
they place their trust in their Lord. "?
- Certainly, he told him ...
- Then I saw in your eyes the
light of the true believer. You are sensitive to what is happening to you, but
you want to react that you can not.
- How do you know ?
- Your difficult condition
shows that you would like to change it. And you will be able to do it because
you are a godly man ... God said: "Those who believe in Allah and the Last
Day do not ask you permission when it comes to fighting by sacrificing their
property and their person. And Allah knows the gods well. "
- I have no property and my
person is entirely dedicated to the quest for food for my family. And, besides,
what would my person be worth in this thing that you say that one must fight
and that is beyond comprehension?
- Everyone can fight at their
level and by their own means ...
- And if I devote myself to
this fight, who will take care of my family?
-
God will
provide for it, because he did not create a creature without providing him with
the means of his pittance.
- Certainly my friend, but for
my family, it is through me that he ensures ...
- And if you disappeared who
would you believe will provide for the pittance of your family?
- I can not say it but God is
omniscient. He is the only one to know the future.
- Each of us on a mission on
earth and no one can say when it starts and when it ends ... Are you ready to
finish it?
- I do not understand…
- Are you ready to give your
family everything they want in exchange for your disappearance?
- Be clearer please.
- Are you ready to take what
belongs to you, with the help of God?
- But I do not ask anything
except to support my family.
- To sacrifice yourself for
her?
- Certainly.
- We propose to become a
martyr to sacrifice you for the good cause ...
- Sacrifice for the good
cause?
- Yes, jihad, the fight for
the triumph and glory of God.
- And who will take care of my
family?
- Reassure yourself, in
exchange, we offer you enough to make live all your family for all the life ...
- Who? You?
- We are a group of people
dedicated to Jihad. We seek eternal peace in paradise by offering our lives for
the glory of God. Are you ready to join us?
He remained silent for a
moment before answering, as if he perceived with greater clarity what the
"preacher" wanted ...
- I'll think about it. He
said. And he got up.
His host did not hold him
back. And he left the mosque. He had not taken a few steps outside that he
remembered that he had to provide dinner for his little family. He hurried to
the butcher's tankard, hoping to find him to beg for a few portions of meat and
weigh down his credit. Credit of which he does not know, for a long time, the
amount. But the butcher was not at the rendezvous. "Butcher closed because
of economic offense", he could read on the front of the butcher shop.
He was not alone in
misfortune. But neither the grocer nor the fishmonger wanted to hear reason in
the face of his grievances. He had already harassed them so much that he knew
in advance the infinitesimal chance of pitying them. Only one passer-by,
affected by his fate, gave him a little money with which he bought a small
bottle of milk. So it was empty pockets and hands clutching this little bottle
of milk, that he regained the house that sheltered his poor family. As usual,
all slept. Only his little brother was waiting for him with haggard eyes,
chilled with cold. He was so hungry that spasms shook all his limbs ... He took
him in his arms, covered him with a piece of his worn overcoat, and made him
drink in small sips, the contents of the small bottle of milk. He cradled him
to sleep, then he put him under the blanket of skin that was already covering
the rest of his family.
He had not finished this
gesture that a sentence suddenly sounded in his ears: "Are you ready to
take what belongs to you, with the help of God? ". Sudden words that
emerged from his unconscious ... He held his head in his hands and rushed out
of the house ...
Twenty-five years of contained
misery, buried in his unconscious, rushed up and stormed the last ramparts of
his fatalistic consciousness.
Yes, "fatalistic,"
he was. Every unfortunate event that happened to him met with a stoicism that
was rewarded in the afterlife. Why then complain or defend? God will punish
them all. An eternal punishment that consoles well of that of a life so short.
And yet, will the punishment in the hereafter abate her sufferings here below?
And why do not those who do so wrong to him and so much misery suffer the
sanction of men in this world?“
"Are you ready to take
what belongs to you, with the help of God? It was still this phrase which did
not leave him when, after having lapped slowly in the neighborhood, gnawing his
brakes, he went back to bed in the depths of his hut.
This morning, when early, he
came out of his miserable shelter, the preacher was waiting for him at the
door. He begged him to come in, but he did not want to. He knew what he wanted:
"Are you ready to take what belongs to you, with the help of God? ".
He nodded. The "preacher" handed him a package, which he deposited
with his sleeping little family. And followed by a slight step the character.
When awakened by the first
rays of sunlight that filtered from the roof of the house, the mother of the
little family unpacked the curious package at her feet, she found money.
"Where could it come from," she said to herself. I will ask my son
when he returns from the mosque. "
The mother waited all day. All
evening. All week ... all life. Her eldest never came back.
Nobody ever knew the truth
about the disappearance of the eldest son of this poor family who still lives
in the slums. No one except a preacher who came one evening to a mosque where
he met, a left-out of a corrupt society and who was still in spite of his
misery, a being who believed that his sacrifice could change things ....
And every evening the little
brother's arm slipped out of the narrow blanket that covered the little family,
and could not find anyone to bring it back.
"Are you ready to take
what belongs to you, with the help of God? ".
Pr ELY Mustapha
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