Why THEY Hate Us
So, one day I was visiting the Dome of the Rock in Palestine. I have a few family members left who reside there and had traveled with my father. After praying Asr one day, I quietly soaked everything in. The people. The smell. The vibrant sun. Everything, including the bullet holes I happened to see on the outside wall of the Masjid.
I ran my fingers through the holes. Evidently, there was a crazy man who murdered Muslim worshipers while they prayed in the Mosque some time before. Either way, I was just fixated.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an old man staring at me. I tried to ignore him, but he persisted. He must have noticed I wasn’t from around there because I was wearing American clothes and a baseball cap, flipped backwards. Ok, so I stuck out like a sore thumb.
I asked him, “Can I help you with something?”
He replied, “Come with me.”
Now, I was confused. Nothing new there! Here’s a 75-year-old man who wants me to follow him. In Palestine. Random.
I figured if he jumped me, I could take him, so I went with him. Yes, that really crossed my mind. Anyway, we walked back into the Mosque and into a back room. It was kind of creepy, but whatever. I let him lead the way.
Why did he single me out? Why did he want me to follow him? We went into a room that was full of boxes and old items. He brought a plastic container towards me and set it on a table. He asked, “Do you know why we hate America?” I didn’t respond, and surely wasn’t going to say, “Because you hate our freedom?”
He looked through me with deep blue eyes that have seen too much. He proceeded to open the lid of the container in front of him. In this box were shells. No, not the ones you find at the beach on a warm, sunny day.
These were bullet shells, and on them said, “Made in the USA”.