Follow the hand that points, the story behind Jihad, 19

Door San Daniel gepubliceerd in Verhalen en Poëzie


Camden, was busy, buzzing. It was the part of London where the market was, always, every day, seven days a week, starting at 10 o'clock in the morning and often only ending in the early evening. Camden town was actually an old part of London, but just that breathed a temptation which lured tourists from anywhere in the world. On the weekends, the streets were filled with the colorful mix of people who walked on steady in a seemingly endless stream, it was more wandering than walking. Camden held something in store for everyone. The Japanese and the Americans gaped at the antique shops or walked with interest along the stalls with second hand junk. Camden High Street, in the part that in reality was Islington, was closed on Saturday to traffic, it had to be. In the weekends Camden was filled with daytrippers and tourists, and after 11 am pubs were doing good business. If every weekend 100 000 loiterers passed by in your area, then many of those would fill your tavern, those who were thirsty or wanted to make use of the toilet.


The 12-year-old Husam al Din - Sword of the Faith, formerly known as Achmed, walked a little ways on to the market, past the stalls with live eels and he glanced at those beasts who would end up miserably. He had taken the tube from Euston station and had stopped because' the heroes dubble belt' chaffed and scraped his skin under the weight of the double charge. He would flash the sword of faith at 3 o'clock sharp and he was slightly too early. He walked back to the green monumental clock on a pillar of the last century and took position. He saw the mothers buying vegetables with a baby in a buggy, vegetables which they slid into a net that hung behind the seat of the children and he thought about his own young sister and his mother. He pushed that thought roughly away with a verse: "Be quick in the race for forgiveness from your Lord, my heart, and a garden, which is as large as the entire heavens and earth, reserved for the righteous, it shall be your portion. Follow the hand that points, follow the hand that points " It was of great importance that the sword would flash at exactly 3 o'clock and he looked at his watch.

'The flash will be answered by the second sword,' the Imam had explained, and he had nodded at Dhul Fiqar - the sword of the prophet, who had only been known shortly before, as Ibrahim. Husam al Din wished it was time, he felt a rising fear, an almost crippling fear and he tried to push it away. He felt somewhat grotesque and awkward, he looked fat under his long coat while in reality he was well trained slim. 'If they only knew,' he thought,' here waits a young strong hero ready to commence battle.'


Dhul Fiqar - the sword of the Prophet got out of the subway and saw his fellow soldier under the clock. He looked at his watch, it was seven to three and he walked quietly and unobtrusively to his friend. They nodded at each other. Dhul stopped next to Husam and held out his left hand and then both touched their hearts, their lips and their forehead. 'See you later Husam', Dhul spoke earnestly and he looked at his watch, 'I have it four minutes to three. 'Me too,' replied his friend, 'see you in paradise ' and their ways parted, never to cross again.

Husam stuck his hand through what had been his coat pocket and found the loop and recited mumbling to himself, with his eye on his watch 'naked young men who compete in beauty come to meet you and dance with you and share goblets of wine and lead you to the virgins already awaiting for in the paradisiacal garden filled with beautiful flowers and scents, the peacocks of the dawn strutting .. 'One minute to three, he slowly began to step away from the pillar clock and into the crowd, sweatbeads began to form on his forehead. About 40 meters away from him he saw his friend facing him, Dhul Fiqar stopped. People walked passed him, he had become an island in the flow of people, he had put his right hand in his coat pocket as well.

When the big hand on the dial reached twelve, and the sacred number three, Husam saw in his mind the sweet face of Fatimah, but he muttered, 'follow the hand that points, follow the pointing hand' and he pulled the loop.


The displacement of air tore bodies apart and the parts blew through the stalls in a flurry of blood and chunks of meat with bone chips. Husam was no more and those unfortunates who had been at the right time in the wrong place, were decimated to bloody human particles. Part of Husam's torso flew through the air and slammed against a shopwindow, stuck a second and then slipped down a little later and fell with a thud on the pavement where people ran away, screaming and shrieking and in full dismay, trampling everything and every one in the panic that followed, away from the disaster, right into the arms of the second sword which now flashed.

San Daniel 2016

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Nederlandse auteurs page van San Daniel in Hebban

also read part 20

09/10/2016 08:08

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