Radical My Journey from Islamist Extremism to a Democratic Awakening

Radical My Journey from Islamist Extremism to a Democratic Awakening

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: 0753540770

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Stories in an Almost Classical Mode

Chocolate Cake With Hitler

Black Like Me

Junky

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my brother’s head, my mind again focused on tangential details. The car was rolling forward slightly. That’s strange, why was it doing that? “The brake!” I thought to myself. “Well done, Ron, you haven’t pulled your parking brake up!” Just then a hand grabbed my collar and lifted me out of my seat and down onto the ground with a violent thud and another gun greeted me. Of course, it was to Ron’s credit that he didn’t reach down for the parking brake; they would have thought he was

Generally, he just retreated. As much as Osman’s change surprised me, it pleased my dad. For many years at home, it had felt as though my brother and I had sided more with our mother and taken advantage of her more liberal views. For the first time, one of my father’s sons had taken a serious interest in Islam. At this point, my father didn’t understand what Islamism really meant. What he saw was his son taking an interest in religion and behaving more like the traditional Muslim he had

of the country quickly. “Where are you taking him?” Rabia suddenly asked the agent. “When are you bringing him back?” The agent looked a little surprised at her questioning but took it in his stride. “In three days’ time,” he said calmly. “And how do I get in contact with you?” she asked. “Who are you, anyway?” The agent smiled a little patronizingly at my wife. As if I carry a badge, he seemed to say. He wrote down a number and handed it to her. “Thank you,” she said.

their near-lifeless bodies were deposited back in line, the faintness of their whimpers and murmurs as they lay there, recovering. I was only a number. This was the only order in that cretinous hellhole, the way the numbers called out moved up, ever closer to my own. Each individual torture session varied, but each must have been between thirty minutes and an hour. The wait for our own turn was over a drowsy, sleep-deprived day and night. I was at least sure of that, because I could hear the

the way in which mysticism became entrenched across the Indian subcontinent. My grandfather was typical of that mind-set, liberal when he was young and more religious as he got older. That was a very Pakistani thing to do. I say “was” because of the rise of extremism among so many young Pakistanis today. My mother was the third of nine children and was roughly nine years old when the family moved to Southend. They started off in a rented property for two to three months, then bought their

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