An Arabs Story

I always enjoy Friday nights at my house. It was a time when family and friends gathered together to celebrate. A time in which we enjoyed good food, told stories to the children about their heritage and shared laughter. Today however, is a great celebration. It is the day that my daughter will graduate from high school. My wife is making my favorite dish; Mansaf. She makes the best jameed in the world. As I walked to the market just four blocks from our New York City apartment, my taste buds are anticipating the savory sauce that is smothered over top of the tender pieces of lamb. My heart was full of joy for my daughters achievement.

As I approached the market I realized that I hadn't returned since the incident took place just a few weeks prior. I will never forget the faces of the three teenage boys that began the horrible misunderstanding. All I kept hearing the closer I got was their voices yelling out, "He's got a bomb". What happened next I will never forget as long as I live.

The panic that ran through the crowds of people was enough to send chills up and down my spine. I looked over at the man scurrying to the door of the market to lock him and the shoppers inside. I was left standing in the middle of the side walk humiliated and afraid for my life. I remember thinking to my self, "I better hurry up and remove my jacket and shirt so I can prove my innocence before things got any worse. Just when I got my jacket off I felt a body lunging at me knocking me to the ground. He was yelling "Don't move or I'll shoot"!! The only thing I kept telling myself is to stay still and cooperate with the now half a dozed police officers that surrounded me so that I remained ok.

My arm was throbbing from the large scrape it had and my ears rang with screams of terror from my fellow New Yorkers. I remember looking over at their faces and witnessing the true definition of post 911 stress disorder. The teens were snickering and whispering among themselves as to suggest a feeling of accomplishment for what they had caused.

I was tossed into a police car and taken to the nearest precinct to be questioned. I thought to myself, "It is over", "I am going up the river for good"! Images of my family ran through my head and all I could say to them is, "Please, I am innocent". After hours of grilling, accusing, and brow beating, I was released.

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