Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [108]
My tongue moved before my mind could stop it. “My father, why don’t you attack Israel rather than America?”
My father looked at me without responding.
I then repeated what I had heard the men say, “Israel is a small country near to us. America is a huge country far away from our shores.”
My father paused before explaining it this way. “Omar, try to imagine a two-wheeled bicycle. One wheel is made of steel. The other wheel is made of wood. Now, my son, if you wanted to destroy the bicycle, would you destroy the wooden wheel or the steel wheel?”
“The wooden wheel, of course,” I replied.
“You are correct, my son. Remember this: America and Israel are one bicycle with two wheels. The wooden wheel represents the United States. The steel wheel represents Israel. Omar, Israel is the stronger power of the two. Does a general attack the strongest line when in battle? No, he concentrates on the weakest part of the line. The Americans are weak. It is best to attack the weakest point first. Once we take out the weak wooden wheel, the steel wheel will automatically fail. Who can ride a bicycle with only one wheel?”
He patted my knee with his hand. “First we obliterate America. By that I don’t mean militarily. We can destroy America from within by making it economically weak, until its markets collapse. When that happens, they will have no interest in supplying Israel with arms, for they will not have extra funds to do so. At that time, the steel wheel will corrode and be destroyed by lack of attention.
“That’s what we did with Russia. We bled the blood from their body in Afghanistan. Those Russians spent all of their wealth on the war in Afghanistan. When they could no longer finance the war, they fled. After fleeing, their whole system collapsed. Holy warriors defending Afghanistan are the ones responsible for bringing a huge nation to its knees. We can do the same thing with America and Israel. We only have to be patient. Their defeat and collapse may not come in my lifetime. It may not come in your lifetime, but it will come. One day Muslims will rule the world.” He paused. “That is God’s plan, Omar, for Muslims to rule.”
I sat mute, feeling not one jolt of passion for my father’s life. I only wanted him to be like other fathers, concerned with his work and his family. I didn’t dare tell him my view, that I would never understand why his mission to change the world was more vital than his duty as a husband and father.
When I sat staring without expressing excitement for his ideas, my father glanced at me in disappointment. He was accustomed to the passion of his warriors, men who hung on his every word, men who slept, ate, and drank only for the destruction of others.
That same passion did not exist in my heart.
My father and I rode the rest of the stony highway in cold silence.
My father returned to Jalalabad with big plans. Now that he had the blessing of Mullah Omar, he would send for all of his former soldiers. Some of the men had been with him in Sudan and their return would be easy. In fact, they would arrive on the same plane with my mother and siblings.
Although governments in the area did not welcome my father living in their lands, because his passion to fight the non-Islamic world brought unwelcome attention from the strong western leaders, ordinary people all over the Muslim world continued to celebrate my father as a great war hero. While Muslim governments distrusted, even hated him, their citizens loved him. In fact, as soon as the news spread that Osama bin Laden was setting up new training camps for Muslim warriors, there were many eager recruits, all rushing to join the Jihad. With new recruits following the old, I was a witness to the making of a new army of eager Mujahideen.
Before long, my father would have more men than ever bowing to his ideas, willing to die for his