Abdullah sometimes carried in our twice-daily meals — a couple of tins of tuna, several buns, a flask of sweet tea and a mango or a few soft bananas. Unlike Jamal, he seemed stuck on the war. One day I asked him what he was going to do later in life. He gave me a fierce look, mimed the act of putting on a jacket and made the sound of an explosion. It took me a second. “Suicide bomber?” Abdullah nodded. He believed that at the gates to paradise, soldiers in God’s army got to enter through a special doorway. THIS IS NOT IN AFGHANISTAN OR PAKISTAN - THIS IS ABOUT MOGADISHU.
Posted on: Sun, 01 Sep 2013 20:22:33 +0000