I USED to work late quite regularly in a previous incarnation so it wasn’t unusual for a group of four of five of us to share a cab and then get dropped off wherever we lived.
The cab we caught on this particular night in late 2003 had Taliban written on the back.
Inside, the driver was resplendent in his white kufi, dishdasha and sirwal.
There was a Taliban sticker on the hub of the steering wheel and another on the dashboard. They perfectly complemented the ornate Arabic script that decorated other parts of the taxi.
There was also a picture of Osama bin Laden hanging from the centre rear-view mirror.
Naturally, the first thing we asked about was the Taliban stickers and photo of one of the world’s most recognisable figures.
“I just come back from Pakistan,” said the driver.
It had transpired that he, along with several others, had gone to Pakistan, crossed the border into Afghanistan and enjoyed receiving instructions on how to use AK-47s, RPGs and plastic explosives.
“Air,” said the driver, “the Fiji Muslim League took us there.”
I doubt that the modern application of Soviet-era weaponry is a subject that occupies the minds of many taxi drivers in late-night Suva, and the detail in his explanation left me in no doubt that he was telling the truth.
Like our driver, September 11 had transformed the way I saw the world.
I watched as clean-shaven male Muslim friends sprouted beards overnight and took to wearing religious attire.
A few female Muslim friends also donned veils and refused to look me in the eye.
I too began to view anyone in Muslim clothing with suspicion, especially when a pharmacist friend we used to play touch rugby with, went through this transformation and started speaking against democracy, Christianity and Israel.
He was equally vocal in his praise of al Qaeda.
He has since migrated to New Zealand.
Tags: Fiji, Fiji Muslim League, fundamentalism, Terrorism
May 19, 2008 at 5:41 am |
[...] politisite wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerpt I USED to work late in a previous incarnation so it wasn’t unusual for a group of four of five of us to share a cab and then get dropped off wherever we lived. The cab we caught on this particular night in late 2003 had Taliban written on the back. Inside, the driver was resplendent in his white kufi, dishdasha and sirwal. There was a Taliban sticker on the hub of steering wheel and another on the dashboard. They perfectly complemented the ornate Arabic script that decorated other [...]
July 16, 2008 at 2:23 am |
the ramblings of a moron.