The awkwardness of terrorism

A friend of mine once said that courtesy of terrorists, he is deathly afraid of Muslims who actually look like Muslims.This leaves him with a clear sense of guilt over being a prejudiced ignorant bigot. As a consequence, he is always holding internal classes with himself to not…think like that, you know.


“I’m telling you!” he assured me. “An Arab or Somali (stereotypes, stereotypes) can enter a restaurant and pull out a string of grenades, and I’ll still take the time to ask him if they are actually real before I would think of causing offence by running away”.

But if it were a Christian looking fellow?

“I’d knock his lights out first, and ask questions later!”

I felt like his point was made the day some friends and I went to Iguana bar and restaurant in Kisementi a few years ago. We were with a Muslim friend of ours at the time who was wearing a Kanzu and sporting a full beard. We shall call him Twit.

There was a special event going on, so there was a crowd, a red carpet and photographers lining it. To this day, none of us know why Twit did what he did next.

He stood on the red carpet as the photographers took his picture. Everyone else was waiting their turn. He then opened his mouth and started to scream.

“Allah Akbar! Allah Akbar! ALLAAAAAAAAAAAH AKBAR!”

Oh, the looks on the photographer’s faces!

I ask you reader. In all honesty. What would you do if you were in a crowded bar at a special event, and a man in a Kanzu, with a full beard like Twit’s, begun shouting praises to his almighty?

Well, the reaction of the crowd showed me that a fear to offend will quite literally be the death of Ugandans. People half-stood over their chairs, hovering uncertainly. A few slowly edged toward the exit. They were all waiting for one person to confirm that it was actually okay to start running.

For my part, I gaped in astonishment as I processed what Twit was doing. Was this going to be one of those nightmare stories where everyone learns that Twit is a terrorist after he’s killed us all? Also-how much time could I wait before I could lead the crowd in a mad sprint out the door? I wasn’t too sure of my friend’s feelings and didn’t want to offend him either!

When Twit begun laughing hysterically at his sick sense of humor, the photographers loudly exhaled in relief. Everyone else glared and resumed their normal business.

But if Twit had not been my friend, screw the door. I’d have taken the shortcut over the balcony and died happily doing it too.

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