FORBIDDEN ZONE: Soliloquies of a Young Muslim (II)

One day, in an unmarked region, a boy was born to a fugitive Jewish mother. Alone, but for the watchful eyes of invisible angels, and perhaps any who happened to pass them by. Raised a carpenter, he learnt the Word of God, tackled the power-yielding lawyers of his age, preached the good news to his people: blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

A different day, inherently no different, another was born to Gentile parents. Predestined to rule, the world of men celebrated his birth, his future subjects manifested en masse. He was raised to be crowned King – in the ancien tradition of privilege and pomp – the enabling seal of power-yielding lawyers of his age, replicating the old news to his people: mon dieu et mon droit.

Ugh! This tone, this academic style, this presentation of historical events is a dumb’s oration. Speak, Jebreil, but speak straight. Verbalise your pains. And don’t fear that others may say, he is mad, but fear hypocrisy in your heart.

Christ, Christ, hold back no longer! You who washed your disciples’ feet, it’s you we want!Jebreil