[h1]Republic of Judea[/h1]

[i]New Ilya, Palestine province - formerly Tel-Aviv, Israel[/i]

[hr]

"Mama, why mustn't we tell anyone about Imam Ahmed's prayers?"

"Hush, child." Mama turned on the stove. "And don't call him imam. We don't want the big men with guns to know he's an imam, do we, Aziz?"

"No, mama, but-"

Mama bent down and placed a single finger on the lips of her 8-year-old child. "It's because, when the big men came, they would take away all the imams and rabbis to a dark, dark, place. Then they would not let the imams and rabbis go, even for many, many years, and only fed them on tabbouleh! You know how much you dislike tabbouleh, don't you, little Aziz?"

"Yes, mama." 

Mama still felt the child's confusion. "Now go and play outside. Come on. Come on." With a little pat on the buttocks, Mama ushered her son outside to forget himself.

Aziz still had so many questions. Why did they only read their Koran at night? Why did Mama seem so scared when the big men came to search the house? Why did she yell and slap him when he told his friends at daycare that he was Muslim? 

Such matters whirled around in Aziz's little mind as he went off to play. As he met up with his friends and played tag in the marketplace, the details of his earlier conversation seemed to disappear. Suddenly, he collided with someone's leg. 

"Watch where you're going, comrade!"

Aziz looked up and saw four men three times taller than him. They had khaki pants and shirts, and big brown guns that everyone called [i]eki[/i]. He heard that they could massacre ten men in eight seconds. There was a big, brown-eyed man at the front - he seemed to be the leader - and a pointy-nosed, skinny man at his side. Aziz didn't like the look of either of them.

"Here, comrade. Can you tell us where Mr. Ahmed al-Nauri lives?"

Aziz was about to answer when he remembered what Mama said. He didn't want Imam Ahmed to be sent to the dark place. He liked Imam Ahmed! He liked going on Fridays to worship Allah! He wouldn't turn them over to the big men. 

"Well, comrade?"

"Ah, um, I don't know, comrade brother." Aziz gulped. "I don't know where he lives."

The big man seemed to pierce his souls with his big, deep, dark brown eyes. He bent down, moving his head so close to Aziz's face that he could smell the tabbouleh he had for breakfast. 

"Really, comrade."

"I told you, I don't know!"

Aziz felt a mighty slap on his cheek, harder than Baba's. His vision went blurry for a full two seconds. When he came to his senses, he was lying on the floor. Aziz saw the deep brown eyes, now aflame with rage, pierce into his soul again.

"Insolent boy! The Republic has no need of brats like you."

Aziz felt the dust get into his ears as the heavy boots of the big men marched past him. They questioned another boy - Sadi, the Zionist - and got the answer they wanted. Aziz wanted to beat him to a pulp.

He ran home in tears.

But when he collided into Mama, the embrace he felt was not one of welcome - it was one of fear. Aziz felt nails dig into his skin as Mama whisked him inside.

Mama was screaming. "You stupid boy, I told you not to talk to the big men!" She launched into a rage and began attacking Aziz with anything that could fit in her hand. "I told you, I told you, I told you!"

"Mama! Mama!" Aziz ran to the other side of the room to explain himself. "Mama, it wasn't me, it was Sadi, it was Sadi-"

Gunshots broke off Aziz's sentence. Mama screamed again and held Aziz tightly against her legs. Aziz managed to break free and forced his head around to look outside the window just as the big men were finished dragging Imam Ahmed out of his house. The pointy-nosed man was holding Imam Ahmed's Koran and jeering. Aziz hated him. Aziz hated him so much. 

Then Aziz saw the brown-eyed man's gun. 

"Death to all religious ministers, who seek to mislead the people and pit brother against brother!"

"Death to the false leader!"

"Just do it here brother, now, to set an example!"

"Glory to the Revolution! Glory to al-Dalayah!"

All he heard were Mama's screams, the spattering of blood, and the frail body of Imam Ahmed being dragged away by the big men.