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By Root 999 0

My father and his party were treated as dignitaries, with no need for the formalities of passports and customs. Besides my father and me, there were only eight other male passengers making the trip, seven of whom worked for my father, staunch comrades during my father’s hour of need. Some of the men I saw often around my father’s guest house. Brother Sayf Adel, my father’s security chief, and Mohammed Atef, my father’s best friend and top commander, were traveling with us. An unexpected passenger was a Sudanese dignitary, a man my father called Mohammed Ibrahim.

I regarded myself as my father’s guard, although in reality I was only a boy of fifteen, still small and so physically underdeveloped that a single whisker had not yet emerged on my smooth face. Yet despite my youth, I would have died to protect the man whose love I had sought since I was a toddler. I felt my position of favored son keenly as I stood aside in respect, inspecting our immediate area while my father climbed the five steps before entering what I hoped was safety inside the aeroplane interior.

I followed, pausing for a moment at the door to take in my surroundings. Everything in the aeroplane smelled like new leather. By chartering such an expensive plane, someone in the Sudanese government had made a great effort to demonstrate respect for my father. My father chose a seat on the first aisle at the front of the plane, keeping his weapon on his lap. Brother Sayf Adel sat nearest to my father, while I settled in the window seat behind him. Mohammed Atef and another of my father’s trusted friends slumped in nearby seats. A third man I knew as Hatim sat nearby, his hands clutching a map and a compass. The other four men chosen to accompany us sauntered to the back of the plane.

My mind was racing, speculating as to where we might be going. Not wanting for those aboard to know that I was not privy to any information, I kept silent. My face was impassive, even as my excitement was building. We were definitely beginning an adventure.

Remembering the brothers I had left behind, I suddenly understood why my father had not named me a legal signatory. My father was not certain that either of us would survive the day’s travel! If a tragedy occurred, my brothers would assume responsibility for his vast network of businesses.

Were we headed for trouble, even death? Death at the age of fifteen was a disturbing thought, despite the fact we Muslims are taught from our youth that to leave earthly life is only the first step to paradise if one is a true believer.

But I was not keen to go to paradise just yet. Remembering the armed men who had tried to assassinate my father, I wondered if another hit team might be surrounding the plane even as we sat on the tarmac. I could not breathe easily until the pilot pulled the plane off the runway and into the sky. I raised my head and peered at what I was leaving. A temporary sadness settled as I silently muttered to myself, “Farewell Khartoum . . . Farewell.”

The hectic African city soon disappeared from the porthole view and I saw nothing more of a city I had grown to love. One bitter thought swirled in my head: The life I had known for the past five years was swept away as suddenly as in the tide that rushes over the beach, washing away those unique years of my youth. For the first time I had tasted something akin to true happiness. But something told me that Omar bin Laden would never again know such carefree joy.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my chin with my hand, wishing I could instantly sprout a full-grown beard. If that were the case, I would be considered a grown man able to make my own choices, as had my older brother Abdullah. I knew that given the option, I would run away from the madness of bin Laden family life. But along with my mother and younger siblings, I had no choice but to follow my father, wherever his actions might lead.

The tension on the plane heightened with every minute. Being young, I yearned to ask what was going to happen, but my father’s contagious silence spread to everyone on board. I did