A few days ago Mohamed came by with his little nephew Hassoun. I had just put on some tea and was waiting for Mohamed to ring the door bell when I saw this little mop of hair sneak past my kitchen. There was curious little Hassoun peaking around my apartment. My mind could not process what must be going through Mohamed’s. Just weeks earlier his three other nephews Osama, Ahmed and Salam had been climbing on his lap and holding onto his legs the way Hassoun was today. The cute little boy looked so similar to his cousins that had been murdered just two weeks prior. What had lead this place into such darkness?
Mohamed gave up most of his tea because Hassoun was drinking his like a drug and every time he would empty his little glass he would demand more from uncle Mohamed. Then he would reach for the cookies take a bite and then put them back in the cookie box. Next Hassoun spilled his tea, he was trying to hold the cup with just one hand like the grown ups, but his little hands were not quite big enough to go far enough around the cup to keep a grip on it.My mind could not process what must be going through Mohamed’s. Just weeks earlier his three other nephews Osama, Ahmed and Salam had been climbing on his lap and holding onto his legs the way Hassoun was today. The cute little boy looked just like Osama the oldest of the three.
