it was like it was supposed to feel. a feeling of calm came over me - it was like it was supposed to feel, like i was in 3rd grade again. everything was easy, i knew what i had to do, i knew what i had to do, it was so easy - listen to the teacher, stand in line, do what im told, and eventually and ill eventually get some chocolate milk, and everything'll be OK, everything'll be OK.

he tapped his cane on the ground, twice, as if to prompt me. he said, slowly:

"are you ready?"

he nodded, heavy eyelids, he stroked his beard. the man exuded a kind of peace. a calmness that comes from a sureness about how the word works, an answer for everything. you could feel his peace with the world. you could see it in his eyes, his smile. i had seen it before - in the eyes of christian fundamentalists in Southern VA, in the nonsense of Hari Krishna's in Texas, in the eyes of Buddhists monks i had befriended in Myanmar. they were always so tranquil, so at peace, so assured. the entire world had been explained to them. death was not a problem, and they knew who put the moon in the sky. (in the case of the Krishnas, it was a small blue man)

"are you ready?"


--


Zamalak. high end French restuarant, dimly lit, bottles of red wine and fashionably small dishes available; a background of that garish, high-treble international house music that international rich-kids love so much. Ashraff, black clad, speaks Spanish and English - works in a construction company.
Ashraff:"I don't understand why you Americans, if you love technology, why you dont just accept that Islam is the latest technology from God. I mean - it is the newest religion. There was first the Jews, then the Christians, then God sent his last message through the angel Gabriel to Mohammed. God made Mohammed the final prophet, the seal of the three great religions, there can be no more after. Can't you see that Islam is the newest, the most perfected of the religions? Why don't you accept this technology?"
Cem:"What? Technology? And - are you saying that God made a mistake when he made the first two?"


--


"are you ready?"
"now? here?"
"yes, now. i could see the light of god in your eyes, god is with you this is why i stopped you in the street - i never stop people in the street. this is why we talked - god planned this meeting. yes it sounds unusual, and you are a gentleman to have listened. and now you must make your descision."
"now? i-"
"no? i will tell you more."
"ok, bu-
"the human body is sacred. it is designed in such a way that it needs a proper system. just like a car needs a proper system to run. the japanese understand this, but only about cars. islam is that system, it is the straight path given to mohammed by god. it is a system that effectively governs the body, it understand the differences between men and women and sets out a set of rules which allows us to achieve happiness. the Prophet was the happiest person in the world - he had control of himself and his community was strong. this is why his armies of only 3000 were able to defet 10, 20, 30 thousand - they had the power of god behind them. like a car needs a good system, man needs islam. man, society, it runs better with islam."
"four wives!"
"yes, the Koran allows 4 wives. but that is not all"


--


sitting in a teashop, pulling on a water pipe, scribbling into a book. waiting for my friend farid. a gaggle of tourists walked by. eye caught by a blonde woman, her body from the side. attractive, if thin and a little too made up. my eyes scanned her - nordic with long thin legs, nicely tanned, tight pants, tight shirt, not much chest but well shaped, nice skin. given the circumstances, no chance of sex. end of report.

the appraisal began, ended, and was filed in my mind within 1/4 of a second. this is routine that happens every hour of every day.

she stepped closer. here oddly lanky nordic father detected me, and unconciously put his hand on her shoulder. my blurry eyes came into focus on her face for the first time.

"bint"
i said, recoiling.
arabic for "girl".
i realized i was looking at a 13 year old.


--


islamic cairo.
i like to walk around late at night alone.
it started in chiang mai.

tonight, im walking towards a distant mineret that keeps disappearing and reappearing in the night horizon, hiding behind the roofs of the old shops and apartments. it is nearly 4AM. many people are awake since its ramadan, especially hungry kids, waiting for suhoor, the predawn breakfast.

a little girl walked by with a bag of fresh bread balanced on her head. she was carrying a long stick too, dragging it behind her. she sang a song i had heard before. i turned to look at her smiling. she had a light complexion. she had a covered head, a softly colored headscarf, a slightly grubby pair of baggy pants.

she was just a girl.

she reminded me of pictures of my older sister, when she was younger, in turkey.
i smiled at her.
she smiled and sang louder and rapped the stick against the ground.
a door opened, and warm yellow light poured out onto the street.
i could hear her her mother joking with her.

"you brought us a stick! darling, where is the bread?"

the door shut.

as my eyes adjusted to the dark , it struck me that in america, in thailand, there arent many "just girls" left. and few "just boys" either. you are sexualized early. girls with the bodies of girls strive to become women. i recall toddler beauty pageants with the little girls in swimsuits.




--


"are you ready?"
"no. but thank you friend"
"but, i want to save you from the fires of hell. please think about this."
"thank you friend. i cannot be helped."


--


so much for being children