My experience with Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab

I am not sure of the wisdom of this post. There is so much that could go wrong with a post such as this, but I feel the need to tell people about it. To give another side, to provide a view of a terrible tragedy. To explain what an acquaintance with an individual can have on another, even if that meeting was brief. To share the pain of knowing, even if is was only a passing meeting.

I am grateful I have not placed too much information on this site. Nor will I. It is about my experiences, but not about me. It is about what has transpired, not what will transpire. It may contain glimpses into a life, but it could be anyones life, a nonspecific experience of one hoping to understand a culture. However, with all of the good I have experienced here, I must share the opposite as well.

Recently I read about a thwarted attempt on a domestic flight to America, where one Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab attempted to do the unthinkable. I was stunned. It was an act of aggression and hatred that I was familiar with, growing up in a post 9-11 society. However, the feelings of fear, anger and overwhelming sadness remain, regardless.

Upon hearing the news, I followed it religiously, tracking the streaming news feeds, and the information grew from a hint here and there, to a flood of speculation. I was stunned when I read of the Yemeni connection. This is my home, a beautiful country, fraught with perils and danger, but full of warm loving people, willing to assist, comfort and share at all moments.

The facts continued to mount, when last evening a stunning revelation crushed all I knew. Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, typically only introduced as Umar, had shared a house with me when I first moved here. We only shared a residence for a few weeks, and I rarely came in contact with him, but nonetheless, we had resided under the same roof.

My world shrank and darkened, spun and halted, all in the same moment. I was furious. I was angry with a sudden, unjustified sense of dishonesty. I was horrified of the possibility of the “what if” questions. What if he had been successful, I thought. I was immediately overwhelmed with a unjustifed, irrational feeling of guilt, one I can not explain, but one that took full hold nonetheless. Then the fear returned. “What if…”. I know such thoughts are useless, but the rational mind is helpless against the onslaught.

In time, I began to think clearly. I thought about Umar. A seemingly good boy, one who rarely spoke to anyone in the house. He would attend the mosque and exchange pleasantries when passed on the stairs. He had been enrolled in the school, but had not been attending by the time I had arrived. When at home, he remained in his room, and kept his presence to a minimum.

Several times, early in the morning, we would meet in the kitchen during breakfast. We shared several conversations, typical in nature. How was your studies. The weather. The beauty of Yemen, and his hope that I would enjoy my time in the land. Without fail, the conversations would drift towards Islam, the Quran and mosque attendance. He would politely encourage me to continue my studies of the Quran, and give thought to joining him at the local mosque one day, when I felt it would be appropriate, as we packed our lunches for the day together. Then, with abruptness as sharp as a knife, he would wish me a good day, and with a traditional salute of “Ma’a Sala’am” he would head out. During the time I spent in the house while he was still there, we had such encounters only four or five times. Not enough to even leave much of an impression, only a curiosity. Curiosity as to why such a nice young man would excuse himself from our revelries in the house, our late night meals, our conversations till all hours, and our fellowship at the school.

Then one day, early this October,  we noticed his room was emptied. I never thought to question it much, as he had mentioned returning home at some point, with no definitive date in mind. Then life carried on.

I do not share this to be sensational. I am not attempting to sway opinion, nor create sympathy. I share it to show another side, one the media will refrain from mentioning. One of a quiet student, with gentle manners toward fellow travelers in a strange land.

When I heard about the attempt on board the airplane I was frightened, enraged, overwhelmed and confused. However, I have come to understand the power of an idea. I do not pretend to know what was in his mind. Nor the ideology which drove him to such a rash conclusion. I am not attempting to place a timeline of actions or thoughts. I am sharing my experience. I am not sure how it will help any others. Perhaps it is just therapeutic for myself, but share I must.

The point of terrorism is to strike fear, in order to further a political or personal goal. There is no logic to it. My experiences prove that there is no logic to it. It is illogical, and it works. As far removed as I was from the actual event, and thank God it did not transpire as planned, I was still deeply frightened. However, I have chosen to learn from this experience.

I have learned that those who go on to do such acts do not do so out of blinding hatred and rage. If that were the case, if they were crimes of passion, I do not believe I would be writing this right now, as we had several disagreements over some points of doctrine. These are individuals disenfranchised with a situation, be it political or social, and have fallen to such a state of frustration that the outrageous seems plausible. What is obviously not an intention one day, quickly becomes one the next.

As a possible friend, I feel betrayed. But as one who perhaps could have noticed something amis, I feel guilty. As one placed in a precarious situation, I feel frightened. But most importantly, as one who has studied the faith of Islam in University, one who came to Yemen to experience the inhabitants joys, sorrows and fears, one who has seen the hospitality of the Muslims and the blind rage of humanity, through warm arms and vicious war, I am left saddened.

With this recent act, the world will once again fear those of an Islamic background. As one who lives in such a society, has studied such philosophy, and loves those whom I have met, I find myself seeing my surroundings with different, un-trusting eyes. I wish I would not, but for today at least, I do. This is a great disservice to a people, a nation, and a faith. It is a vicious weapon utilized upon Nations already unfamiliar and frightened of that which is different. It is a horrendous crime against those unwitting victims upon the plane, their families and loved ones.

It is an act that has reshaped my experience here. I can only hope, with the help of my Yemeni, Saudi, Sudanese, Iraqi and Jordanian friends, I will quickly remember the love that is present in such a devastated land. My heart goes out to those effected, both far and near, both directly and indirectly. May you find peace today.

In addition, I feel it is important to include the power of music at all times in my life. My song for these past few days comes from a Samoli Canadian rapper, incidently a Muslim as well, named K’naan, who has produced some wonderful melodies. His song “Take a Minute” feels like a proper response to my feelings. Enjoy.

K\’naan; Take a Minute

~ by maffersalmon on December 28, 2009.