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Are Muslims really hated or feared?

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By Ehi Ekhator, Naija Center News

The believe that Muslims are marginalized or intimidated is always an overstatement to me as i see people making this assertion are nothing but liars and animus creators judging from what’s going on around the world presently and the innocent people dying in the hands of the few who alluded to themselves as the genuine Muslims and killing everyone who does not believe in their doctrine.

On the 30th of July, i was travelling from Kandy to Colombo on a public transport in Sri Lanka, when the bus got to the Muslim’s dominated area, a certain man with a ridiculous bag entered the bus. No one usually sit close to me but on that day, this man did.  I was uncomfortable. My fear was not because he sat close to me, but the way he held his cheap bag like gold in a way that he was avoiding me, who was dying inside to peep at its content.

As he came into the bus, the phone i held on my hand suddenly died, i could hardly move as the thought of what was going to happen next filled my heart. To make matter worse, he brought out a very cheap phone; the type i have seen can easily be used to trigger explosives. He was murmuring with different body signs. Deep down my heart, he was saying ‘God is Great’ in his Arabic language.

On the other side of the bus was another Muslim man who folded his two hands together indicating he was praying, this gave me a relief that the man murmuring may be doing the same but his own was different as he was touching different parts of his body, my sweat was dropping like as if i was walking in the rain.

Suddenly, he got up from my seat and moved adjacent. I believed he realized i was not comfortable as i decided to sit on one buttock looking at him instead of both, his change of seat gave me another relief but all was still not well. He still held his bag tightly to himself and the only thing i thought of was ”is there any exit in this bus?” Actually there was but i can’t make it to the door if it was to explode, so my heart kept pounding the Holy Spirit out of me.

Again, he moved from the seat to the last seat and i received another fresh air. This time, i was acting more like a mathematician, calculating how i would hide under the chair or behind it. I realized the chairs were made of iron and foam, so the explosion could burn through it, and then how will i look if i got roasted? Will my flesh scattered in different locations like the incident of Nyanya? Now that he is sitting at the back, should i ask the driver to stop and change bus? Or should i raise an alarm of a suspicious bag? What if the alarm became false? Am i dying today?

Then another thought came to my mind about a friend in the United State who is a doctor. He told me how the nurses and doctors on duty ran away at the mentioning of a Muslim’s man name who was involved in a ghastly motor accident. The man walked into the hospital dripping blood and the nurses ran towards him, gave him a wheel chair with numerous questions to understand the nature of the injury. Then one of the nurses asked his name and the moment he said Mohammed Yusuf, the nurses disappeared one after the other.

I also remembered that a young Sri Lankan Muslim has been disturbing me lately, begging me to give him Boko Haram’s number as he would like to talk to them and on his Facebook wall, he rejoices whenever ISIS triumph in their attacks.

I recalled that the Buddhist monks had attacked the Muslims and Christian’s community recently leaving some Muslims dead and the water is still boiling over that.

I started thinking of all the crime i may have committed and things i have planned i haven’t done. I prefer public bus because you don’t have to worry yourself driving and you can sleep while travelling, did i make a wrong choice? Should i have just taken a taxi? Will my son see me again?

The other Muslim man didn’t open his eyes after praying, i guess he upgraded the prayer to sleep, but that wasn’t my problem unless the thought that he may have been planted there to make sure the attack was successful. But another thought came to my mind that they usually use the children within a certain age and the man with the frightening bag should be within 50-52 years old.

He brought his phone out again, dialed a number, i could see him as my neck was like that of a bird trying to peep behind. You can be wowed on what you are capable of doing if you are in a position you do not expect, so i decided to monitor. If the man had stopped at any of the many villages we passed, it would have been better for me but he didn’t and never let off his bag.

To cut matter short, i arrived Colombo and i was the first to jump off the bus, and then looked up with the realization that it was not my turn to die.

The Muslim man who kept changing seat must have realized i was not comfortable sitting with him, deep down in his heart he may have thought i hate Islam forgetting that i am just fighting to stay alive. It’s true that all Muslims are not terrorists but it’s obvious that all terrorists are Muslims. I felt really bad for him but i hope he understood my position.

Therefore, it’s unfair to say that Muslims are marginalized despite the havoc many of them had caused and still causing till date. It is unfair to be scared to express how you feel about a certain religion who about 70% of its members believe in revenge and display signs of hatred towards other religions. Muslims are not hated but feared from the look of it all.


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