While I am working on "B" I thought I would post this story I wrote a few years back. It is fiction but maybe not too far from truth. It is a sad story, one the Left would use to humanize criminal action. There are however, multiple crimes taking place. The mass destruction of innocent life, the mis-directing of an innocent mind, and the overriding of agency are just a few.
The Wall
All the adults complain about the wall. Everyone has to go to the checkpoint to get in and out of town now. Some of the fields father works in are on the other side. I like the wall, especially where it runs along the field. That’s where I usually hang out when I’m not at school or doing stuff at home. I see my friends there now. The wall keeps the ball from going too far when it’s kicked out of bounds on that side. You have to be careful not to kick it over.
“Abdu, come play soccer with us,” Ishmael yells, “The teams are uneven.”
“Ishmael stops the ball, and the game, with his foot long enough for me to shake my head and yell back, “Not now, I have work to do.”
The shouting starts again as I turn my back and continue down the road. I wish I could go play, even if the ball barely has enough air in it to make it fun. As I walk on I realize I won’t get to play soccer with them anymore.
The closer to the wall I get the more people there are. They are all either trying to leave or just returning. The only people not walking are the peddlers. They sell vegetables, chickens, and falafels.
This side of the wall is like a small village now. Before the wall was put up it was all fields with one small road. Now, whenever the gate is open there are people here. There are more dogs too. The lame one has followed me around since I gave him scraps yesterday.
It’s busy here but the big city is on the other side of the wall. That’s where the shops are…where you can buy Raiders bars, CD players, and shiny soccer balls, if you have money. With the money I gave my dad I could have bought 10 soccer balls.
“Abdu, you make me very proud” father had said.
He didn’t have to ask where the sweaty bills that I had pushed into his hand came from. I thought I heard him sob as I left to go meet with the older boys.
That mangy dog is still following me. He is covered with dust and he doesn’t even try to shake the flies out of his eyes and ears. They never stop the dogs from going through the gate.
The sweat is tickling my back but I can’t scratch. I’m scared they won’t let me through the gate. I’ve never gone through by myself. The guards stare with angry faces. The queue at the gate isn’t too long. The soldiers wave people on after looking them over. A little boy holds his mother’s dress. She carries a baby. The soldier looks at the baby’s face and then signals the four of us through. He barely looks at me; he must think we’re a family.
I look back once more at where I live. Ishmael and the others are still playing soccer but I can’t hear them any more. I see the roof of my house and the school. Everything looks small and dirty. I pass through the gate.
“Abdu, you are doing very well in your studies,” he said. “Much better than the other boys your age. Soon, you will be through here.”
“Thank you,” was all I could think to say.
When the schoolmaster pulled me from class. I thought I had done something wrong. I got nervous when he said the older boys wanted me to meet with them. They are already finished with school, but I would see some of them when they come here to visit. Some of them never come back.
My father has told me it is four kilometers from the gate to the city. The three and four story buildings make it look closer. It will soon be time to plant the fields along the road. I won’t be helping father farm this season. The empty space can’t hide the slope that makes the walk home faster than the walk there. I look back and see that the dog has stopped following me. He lays in the dirt panting and looks at me as I walk on. I wish he wouldn’t leave me a lone so soon.
“Abdu, you are right on time.” was the only thing the schoolmaster had said as he let me in.
When I went to the place where the older boys meet I expected it to be something special. It was just like the house I live in. There was an old cleric there who I had never seen. He scared me and made me feel small. Two of the boys I played in the field with just last year, Khalil and Husan, came over when they saw me come in. I asked if they still played soccer, but I felt foolish when they told me that is for children. They wanted me to meet someone new. They took me over to the corner where the cleric was standing. When the holy man spoke to me his breath was foul. Some of his teeth were missing and others were black and ugly. I was told he had heard many good things about me. My faith in Allah and diligence in studying the holy writings showed everyone that I was no longer a child… but a man.
The walk has made me hot. I wish I could take off my jacket but there are too many people. The cars and trucks send dust up into the air even though the road is paved here. The small houses turn into bigger apartments. In only a few blocks distance, I stand on the sidewalk of a main street. Traffic is going both ways. There aren’t any people walking now. Everyone is riding. I turn to the right and look for a bus stop.
“Abdu, how old do you think we have to be to get into Eden and have sex with 72 virgins?” Husan had whispered.
We were in class and I almost laughed out loud.
I shrugged.
I didn’t know the answer but I found out later. You only need to be old enough to do something that proves you are a man.
Up ahead there are about twenty people standing near a shelter. As I near the bus stop I tell myself I am not scared. I can do this. Everything is exactly as they told me it would be.
“Abdu, Mohammed will be very proud of you but only if you follow my instructions exactly,” Honsi had said.
He held my face and made me look him in the eyes.
Honsi was very nice for a cleric. He was the youngest one I had ever seen.
“My father was a tailor until the Israelis killed him. He refused to leave his shop and they bulldozed it down,” He had said quietly as we looked in the mirror.
Honsi had fixed my coat so that you couldn’t tell I wore a padded vest underneath.
“Abdu, you must find a bus stop with ten or twenty people waiting. When the bus comes pull this cord,” Honsi had said as he turned my face to his.
I move to the edge of the crowd and look for the bus to come. I spot the dog I fed yesterday. He decided to follow me after all. Why did he follow me? The dog lays down beside me and a bus pulls up. I can’t kill the dog. As I get in line to get on the bus I see Honsi drive by in a car. There are no empty seats when I get on but standing I can see Honsi’s car pull over to the side of the road. I’ve never seen anyone I know with a mobile phone, I’m surprised to see Honsi with one. The bus pulls away and the dog only follows a short distance before laying down again, the bus accelerates but not forward.
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