ozkat
22-08-2005, 09:20 PM
Two Middle East mothers are sitting in the cafe chatting over a pint of
goat's milk. The older of the mothers pulls her bag out and starts
flipping through pictures and they start reminiscing.
"This is my oldest son Mohammed. He's 24 years old now" "Yes, I remember
him as a baby" says the other mother cheerfully. "He's a martyr now,
though" mum confides.
"Oh so sad dear," says the other.
"And this is my second son Kalid. He's 21."
"Oh, I remember him," says the other happily, "he had such curly hair
when he was born."
"He's a martyr, too," says mum quietly.
"Oh gracious me .," says the other.
"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He's 18," she
whispers.
"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically. "I remember when he first
started school."
"He's a martyr, also" says mum, with tears in her eyes.
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully
at the photographs and says...
"They blow up so fast, don't they?"
goat's milk. The older of the mothers pulls her bag out and starts
flipping through pictures and they start reminiscing.
"This is my oldest son Mohammed. He's 24 years old now" "Yes, I remember
him as a baby" says the other mother cheerfully. "He's a martyr now,
though" mum confides.
"Oh so sad dear," says the other.
"And this is my second son Kalid. He's 21."
"Oh, I remember him," says the other happily, "he had such curly hair
when he was born."
"He's a martyr, too," says mum quietly.
"Oh gracious me .," says the other.
"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He's 18," she
whispers.
"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically. "I remember when he first
started school."
"He's a martyr, also" says mum, with tears in her eyes.
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully
at the photographs and says...
"They blow up so fast, don't they?"