September 2, 2011 Part 2 Without Us: Ramadan and Eid 2011

September 2, 2011

Part 2

Without Us:  Ramadan and Eid 2011


That other awful thing about another Muslim has begun:


Today Muslims from the mechanics’ called to steal my husband’s van.  It is an old van and you would think that it was a Mercedes.   This morning my husband was awakened to a loud neurotic woman screaming in a foreign accent.  She was bellowing so loudly I was not sure if she was going to die on the phone.  She demanded that we give them the title of the van so that they can sell it and give the money to the other mechanic for the transmission work.  She also yelled, “How do I know you’re telling the truth about your accident.”  I told her “why don’t you come and see,” but I regretted it afterwards.  I feel as though it may increase some hostilities toward us for being the victims of a crushed foot.  Nevertheless, she ignored my request for solace and peacemaking.  Be mindful, these are Muslims.  I threatened to sue anyone that sold or stole his van. They want the van and I want my husband’s foot back working the way it was.  It should not be this perplex for any human to understand what the priority is at this moment.  However, to these Muslims it is difficult.  They are attacking us and we are not sure if this means that we are in a Jihad against other Muslims or the five-star Mosques that never responded to us . . . what is this.  After all these people are the members of one of these Mosques.  What should I do?  They seemed prepared to chop our heads off or drag my husband’s other foot through the street and circle him with screaming women who want the money to buy something like plastic bags for the other battered customers they have in a freezer at the garage—those customers that did not get the money to them on time:  “Chop-chop.” Although I am being light-hearted, it is scary. It really looks like we may be caught-up in some mafia type of thinking with these people. Perhaps too much televisions watching and not enough, love thy neighbor stuff.   I told the screaming woman, while she tried to shake me down, “this is America we do not behave like savages while doing business.”  When I mentioned, “America” she went off.  She then slammed the phone down as though she was offended that she was here. I am not.  Not in these situations.  This is why I have always liked being an American. A Muslim, in America—I am afraid of screaming crowds that want to do you in over an old transmission.  At least in America, I can call the police when Muslims threatened to harm me. If they offer to take off one part, I will call 911 very quickly because, I take things like losing limbs very seriously.  In another country, my family may be murdered my now.  In addition, accused us of violating some family honor we knew nothing about:  the honor of the crushed foot, or the honor of the broken transmission laws.  I know I am going to get the line that not all Muslims are enraged with some type of vindictive hatred about, well, being Muslims. Why else are they hateful?  Surly not about Islamic phobia and being the face of terror, right; not when you are terrorizing each other everywhere and every chance you get.  Right, and tell me that not all Muslims behave as if savages—but those who do not, should not be allowed to feed the savages among us.  I do not advocate feeding any savages.  Times are tough enough.  Who can afford the liability of harboring these people? America can. . .  One Muslim, said, just forgive them, they are just having a difficult day.”  The Muslim that recommended we take the van to them. He is one of their friends. He never mention, “how is your foot, can I help.” We never heard from him again.  Well it looks like every day here is difficult for staff at five Star Cars and Andy’s Transmissions.  They both curse and scream like drunk sailors just getting to the local strip joint after years on the boat.  I am not going to make excuses for people like this.  I refuse to be one of those, “Muslims.”  What is amazing is that when she threatened to sell my husband’s van, she never offered to give us any of the money!  I am beginning to think that something has been allowed to fester—uncheck and outside of the radar . . . in Charlotte.  If anything more morbid than this happens to my family, I would ask a local Muslim.  No one else is gunning for us.  They sure are not cheering for us.




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