Four boys with plastic pistols ran toward the men. They must have been about five or six years old. The man who had taken notes through both my meetings with Abssi scooped up one of the boys. “How was it?” he asked. “We were at the camp, Baba, and they showed me a real gun,” the boy answered. “And then I played jihad and killed the kuffar,” he added, using the Arabic word for “unbelievers.” The man started laughing. “You killed the kuffar?” “Yes, Baba, with the pistol.” The man kissed his forehead. “I am very proud of you, my son.”
