THE YOUNG MAN
-1-
The young man came down the road cautiously, looking right and left. Everything looked quiet and peaceful, but you never could be sure, not these days. He thought back to six months before. Then, he had been in college with a whole lot of options to look forward to. Life was looking good, but that was before, before The Accident.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of gunfire. It was a way off, but was it coming towards him? He didn’t want any trouble, not today. He stopped and listened. The gunfire was more distant..He sighed with relief and carried on walking, still keeping his eyes and ears open for anything unusual.
His thoughts turned once more to The Accident. It had been a Friday lunchtime when it happened. A truck, driven by a Christian, came into the square out of control and crashed into the Moslem faithful, just as they were doing their noon prayers. He hadn’t been there to see it, but some people had the presence of mind to film the action on their mobile phones. The footage was shown again and again on TV....
This time, the gunfire was louder, and it was definitely getting nearer. The young man prayed for it to go away as he looked for a good hiding place. His prayers, it seemed, were answered. The noise died away, and the young man started moving again.
The images on TV had been frightening. Eight people were killed and and many others injured, but the most upsetting pictures were of the fate of the lorry driver. Following the accident, he was sitting in his cab with his head in his hands when enraged worshippers came over to the truck, opened the door and dragged him out.
The driver was heard to shout that it was an accident, his brakes failed, but nobody was really listening. He was dragged along the street and then beaten to death on the steps of the mosque.
The young man shuddered at the memory. The images were imprinted on his mind, and sometimes he saw them again in his dreams. To see fellow human beings treat others in that way had shocked him badly, but that had only been the start.
Now, there was the sound of running feet, and there was nowhere to hide, no escape. A group of ten or more men came into sight. They spotted the young man, who decided there was no point in trying to run away, so he just stood where he was.
The men ignored him, apart from one who called breathlessly, “Get out of here. They’re chasing us. Twenty or thirty men. Run!” He started running, too.
Life had never returned to normal since The Accident. The Moslems said that the truck driver had run into the worshippers on purpose. The Christians said that it was a tragic accident and complained about the lynching of the driver, demanding judgement on his killers.
From then on, the violence had escalated until it wasn’t safe for a Christian to be seen in the Moslem districts, or a Moslem in Christian areas. People who for many years had lived in peace with each other were now at odds. Gangs roamed the streets, looking for someone to fight.
The young man slowed to a walk, feeling safer now. Soon he would be seeing his fiancée. He thought about how they had met in college, how they had fallen in love heedless of anyone else’s opinion and how, by the time the troubles started, their love transcended all barriers.
He turned the corner, and suddenly his way was blocked by half a dozen large men.
“Looks like a Moslem,” said one.
“I don’t know,” said another.
A third man took hold of the young man. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Masih,” replied the young man.
“Really? And are you a Christian?
“Yes, I am,” said Masih.
“Well, you say you’re a Christian, but you don’t look like a Christian.”
“What does a Christian look like?” Masih thought, but he didn’t say anything.
The first man said, “Well, he may be telling the truth, but there’s one easy way to check. Pull his pants down.”
The third man continued to hold Masih while the second undressed his lower half. “Circumcised,” the man pronounced. “Lying Moslem turd,” he said, as he spat in Masih’s face.
“He’s condemned himself,” said the first man. Let’s rid the world of this scumbag.”
Masih wanted to tell the that yes, his real name was Ahmet, but Masih was his new name. He had become a Christian and he had been baptised. The reason he was out on the streets in the Christian area that day was that he was having a party to celebrate his engagement to a young Christian girl.
However, there was no opportunity to say any of this as the blows rained down on him from fists, feet and sticks. When the large men’s work was done, they left Masih lying there in a pool of blood. Once more revenge and hatred had claimed a victim.
-2-
Ahmet / Masih’s funeral procession began from his home. At the head were the Imam from the local mosque, and by his side, Masih’s pastor, Yusuf.
Masih’s father walked, head bowed, stoically silent, while his wife expressed her grief in crying and wailing, in the traditional manner.
Behind the cortege came a mixed group of Christians and Moslems. Some were from Masih’s church. Some were relatives and close family friends. Other relatives had declined to come on the grounds that he was apostate, which had only made some of those attending more determined to show their support.
Little was said as the procession made its solemn way along the very route Ahmet had taken on that fateful day. They were flanked by armed guards, because of threats that had been made against the funeral.
They arrived at the square where Masih had met his death and paused there for a few moments to reflect on what had taken place. His mother redoubled her crying and became almost hysterical.
It was now only a short distance to the church with its small graveyard. The pastor was rehearsing the words he would say by the graveside, and he thought back to the events of the last two days. Had it really only been forty-eight hours since the young man’s death? he wondered.
What a busy time that had been. No sooner had Masih been brutally beaten to death than a boy came and knocked on the pastor’s door. “Come quickly,” he said. “They are beating our new friend Masih.”
This news had surprised and shocked Yusuf. He had been about to set off to go to the engagement party. He quickly threw on his coat and followed the boy to the square where Ahmet was. When he got there, he saw that nothing could be done to save Ahmet, but he did manage to retrieve his body and shame his killers as he rounded on them for their violence and stupidity.
Then there had been the sad, harrowing task of turning a party into a wake. He took Masih’s body to the church, and called his wife to prepare it, while he made his way round to Meryem’s house. Meryem was Masih’s fiancée.
Everyone at the house was horrified by the news. Some wanted to go straight out and do something to Masih’s killers, but Pastor Yusuf told them that was not the right way. Others couldn’t believe what had happened. Meryem fainted from the shock.
However, Yusuf’s hardest task was yet to come. Somehow, the news had to be conveyed back to Masih/Ahmet’s family. In this, Meryem’s older sister proved helpful, telling Yusuf of a professor at the university who was a Moslem, but who had a lot of Christian friends as well, and who had been helpful to both Ahmet and Meryem in their journey.
The professor took on himself the task of telling Ahmet’s family what had happened, and was also influential in arranging matters for the funeral. There were still official hurdles to clear. Would the young man be buried as a Muslim or a Christian? His identity card still showed him as a Muslim, but his mother especially insisted that his body should be laid to rest alongside Christians, even though she herself was a devout Muslim.
The professor was again helpful here. He knew the right people in the right places to have things arranged quickly and discreetly.
Some of Ahmet’s family objected, saying that the young man was being denied his opportunity of paradise, but out of respect for the family they didn’t raise a lot of fuss.
As arrangements were made, inevitably people from both communities came into contact with each other, and reconciliation took a few steps forward. However, there were threats made by some hotheads on both sides; from Muslims who wanted to prevent the burial in a Christian graveyard and from Christians who wanted to count Masih’s conversion as a triumph for their side.
All these things went through Pastor Yusuf’s mind as the procession made its slow way to the graveyard. He was glad that, so far, nothing had happened to interrupt proceedings, but he was still wary. He prayed once more for wisdom over his words, and for God’s protection on the ceremony.
The coffin wasn’t taken to the church, but everyone made straight for the cemetery. Ahmet/Masih’s father and mother stood side by side, hand in hand, as Pastor Yusuf spoke.
“Today, we have come to bury a young man whose life was ended cruelly almost before it had properly begun,” he said. “In different times, he would still be here with us today. However, because of some men’s bigotry and unreasoning hatred, we are here today, grieving over our loss. We could be angry, we could demend revenge, but of what use are such thoughts at a time like this? Would more killing bring him back to us? No - that would only lead to more grief and suffering to more families. So today we are going to practise forgiveness, one of the most difficult yet most important things we can ever do. Jesus taught us, ‘Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.’ When he was on the cross, he cried out, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’ I ask you all today to do as Jesus taught us and forgive one another. Lose your hatred and learn to love those who have been your enemies. Make this day a day of triumph; triumph of love over hatred, triumph of forgiveness over the desire for revenge, triumph for living at peace with everyone. Just by being here together today, we have taken a big step towards reconciliation. I am really grateful for the presence here today of Imam Musa, and for the grace and forgiveness he has shown in this situation. Now, let us pray together in silence.”
The funeral continued without interruption, but just as everyone was starting to leave the graveyard, they heard the sound of shots. Two of the armed men raced off in the direction of the gunfire, while everyone else took shelter. They soon returned, with a teenage boy. “He’s no threat,” they said. “He was shooting pigeons.”
Everyone heaved a collective sigh of relief and there was even some laughter. The mood was lighter as they made their way back to Ahmet/Masih’s home together.