The Birth Of Indoctrination (Part 1)
W eekends were usually laundry day for my mom and being her youngest of five children I was under her watch as usual. I was a typical 8 year old in that I wanted my way and wasn’t too pleased being told I couldn’t have more money for the snack machine so I stormed out of the Laundromat and stumbled across a little white boy about my age. In him I saw a perfect opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. I was carrying a cup of cool-aid and without provocation I threw the drink in the kids face to his surprise. To my horror my mom witnessed my assault and rushed out of building and grabbed me rather forcefully by the arm. “What did he pour on you”? Mom asked. “cool-aid’” the boy answered. My Mom made me apologize and for fear of reprisals I won’t say what my punishment was. It took me years to understand the motive for my rage at that little white kid. It would help to understand that I was born Muslim, to very young parents from the south (dad from Mississippi and Mom was fro