Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [157]
My grandmother’s visit increased my desire to leave my father and the life he had chosen for me. Such ideas grew more urgent after my closest friend, Abu Haadi, took me aside and warned me earnestly, “Omar, you need to leave Afghanistan. I have heard talk that there is something very big in the works. You need to leave, Omar. You are a young man. You have never harmed anyone. You need to leave, seek out a normal life. Do not stay here any longer.”
So, even after the attack from America, even after Mullah Omar’s warnings, my father and his men were still planning violence. And, from Abu Haadi’s words, they were intending something even larger than the deadly attacks upon the American embassies. More innocent people would be killed, as they had been in Africa and Afghanistan, for some of the men killed in the camps were not training to be fighters, but had come to visit friends, or out of simple curiosity.
Abu Haadi was not a man who would lie. If he thought I should leave, I should leave. Later that day, I gathered my father’s sons around me. “Listen, my brothers, I have heard confidential information. Something big is in the works. Here is the simple truth. If we leave, we live. If we stay, we die.”
They were quick to agree, with one saying, “If our father makes other attacks, all of Afghanistan will be destroyed.”
“We must escape,” I said.
My brothers concurred, but how? Our departure must be a secret. Our father had become so extreme that he might imprison us if he knew our plans to escape.
I suggested, “When our father goes away on business, we will dash to Pakistan on our horses.”
My brothers nodded. All the sons of Osama bin Laden were excellent horsemen, and we had easy access to our father’s stallions. We had the added advantage of being intimately familiar with the mountainous terrain. All those forced hikes to Pakistan from Tora Bora might be good for something after all.
Yes, we would ride our horses to Pakistan, sell the horses to a wealthy landowner, then use the money to fly to Sudan. After a pleasant visit in Sudan, we would take a trip around the world! We would enjoy ourselves for a change.
We dreamed big dreams. We were so serious about escaping that we began to slaughter some of our father’s camels, drying the meat so that it would not spoil, packing a few supplies. Only Abu Haadi knew of our plans, and he approved completely.
Of course, guilty feelings regarding our mother and younger siblings flitted into our minds. Yet we all understood that our mother would never consent to leave without her husband’s permission. And should he inquire, our mother would find it impossible to lie. Our plan would be foiled.
None of us wanted to imagine our father’s reaction to our disloyalty. We knew he believed we should follow his Jihad with the greatest passion. We should take up arms and attack the Americans, or anyone else he deemed his enemy.
Our worries were soothed somewhat by the knowledge that our mother and younger siblings had the advantage of sex and age. Our father would make efforts to protect them. And, even if the Americans attacked again, we remembered our father’s words that the Americans never intentionally strike women and children.
Soon we had enough food for the journey. I was excited, for I had been thinking of leaving for several years. But the idea was new to my brothers, and one by one, they began pulling back.
One brother said, “Our father’s long arms reach many places. He will kill us, for sure.”
Another said, “Afghanistan is so dangerous. Behind every bush is a bandit. We will be robbed and murdered on the trail.”
“Those are chances we must take,” I argued. “We will die if we remain with our father. Information I have received leaves no doubt that we must go!”
They all were quiet, contemplating. Soon each of my brothers drifted away from the plan. All of them began to avoid me.
I thought of going alone, but common sense told me that fewer than two travelers could not survive.