Locked In

Relocation

"Mommy where are we going? Where's daddy?" Came the innocent questions from the children.

"We are going to America and Daddy is at work." I replied.

I looked at my children and then around me at the other families in the cage. We were packed like sardines, unable to move. I could hear the other families crying and talking softly to each other. We had no idea where we were going.

"Are we going to be killed like that boy back in Qatar?" Rahmat asked me.

"God willing no."

"Where's Daddy? Why hasn't he come for us? Did the Americans kill him too?" Sabura asked.

"I do not know Sabura."

"I'm scared." Ijaz said to me.

"I know. I'm scared too. But we need to stay strong and keep our faith in Allah."

The day seemed to go on forever. We struggled to pray the four other prayers. By evening I was exhausted. My children had fallen asleep next to me. We had eaten nothing all day. I looked at the other adults sitting on the floor.

"Are you okay Parasa?" Haleema asked me.

"No. I have a feeling what is going to happen to us. But I don't want to let my children know of it."

"I was always afraid something like this would happen. Ever since September 11th I've been waiting and watching for this day to come. I am surprised it didn't happen earlier."

"I think the Americans were waiting for the right moment and the right reason to punish us."

"But the majority of Muslims are not terrorists. We have done nothing wrong."

"I know that. But to the Americans, all Muslims are evil."

"That was my fifth son who was killed today. He was only seven years old."

"Insha Allah he is in Heaven now."

"I hope so."

We fell silent after that. I must have dozed off because suddenly I heard the plane touchdown. The screeching of wheels on the tarmac alerted all of us awake. We gazed warily at our kidnappers and watched as they quickly jumped to their feet. The family near the front of the cage tried cringing back as the men approached us but it was impossible due to the cramped conditions and lack of space.

The children were staring wide eyed as the men pulled out blindfolds and chains. I saw then that there were shackles on the bottom and top of the chains. Were we to be shackled to each other like common dogs?

"Everybody up! We're going to blindfold you and chain you to each other so you don't escape." One of the men said through clenched teeth.

One by one we were pulled out of the cage and quickly shackled to each other. A few of my brethren tested the shackles to see if we could break them but they were too tight to get out of. Men, women, and children were shackled to each other like common beasts and we were surrounded by our captors. They threw blindfolds over us and then gave the orders for us to move out. I felt the tug of the chain and moved forward. Some of us were crying and the women were wailing. We were herded out of the plane and onto the tarmac. I could hear the sound of planes taking off and landing. The engines of the airplane we had just departed were still roaring. Was it possible they were going to arrest more Muslims as soon as they got rid of us? Would we be killed? Would we be made into slaves?

I was scared for my life but more scared for my children. "Allah please protect my children from harm. Whatever happens to me I will endure it. But please protect my children."

I heard the sound of a truck and we were shoved inside the back of it. I could hear the murmured voices of the people. Then I heard the sound of a gun cocking. I shrank back in fear.

"Are you alright? I know this isn't much but I managed to get some food for you all." It was the voice of one of our kidnappers.

I felt something warm in my hands and passed it around. There was silence as we ate the bread, our only food in two days. For some of us it was the first meal in days. The man sighed and put the safety back on his gun. Then I felt my blindfold being lifted. I blinked at the darkness and looked around. The man had removed the rest of the blindfolds from the others.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Private Willard Collins."

"Why are we here? Where are we going?"

"You are being tried as traitors to America for being followers of Islam. I am not allowed to tell you where you are going."

"What is so wrong about being Muslim?" Another man asked.

"According to the USA President, your people are killing innocents and this is retribution for the attacks on September 11th 2001."

"But we had nothing to do with that!" A few people cried.

"That is the order of the President of America."

"Private Collins!" A man shouted.

"Yes Sir?" Private Collins asked.

"Quit conversing with the enemy."

"But Major Ronnel..."

"Silence Private or you'll be tried in military court as soon as this mission is finished!"

"Yes Sir."

I did not know of the exact location of our "relocation". None of us did.

"Mommy I'm still hungry." Rahmat said to me.

"I know Rahmat. We are all still hungry."

Someone began speaking in Arabic. I recognized the Sura he was reciting. It was Sura 114. As one we began reciting it and then when it was finished began reciting more Suras of the Qur'an. It passed the time and made us forget our suffering for a little while. Anything was better than wondering about where we were going.

I fell asleep again. Hours turned into days and sometime later the truck turned down a dirt road and bounced over a couple of rickety one lane bridges. We could hear the dirt and rocks as we drove down various roads. We were starving and had been unable to pray. Hours went by and finally the truck stopped. A few seconds later the truck started driving again and then came to a full stop. The doors of the truck flew open and we blinked at the bright light. We saw some cars parked behind the truck and men climbed out.

"Welcome traitors to your new home."