Originally Posted by excerpt 5 from chapter 10, Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

'The larger camps are the worst,' Dr. Sharif was explaining. 'In those, our people are so numerous that the conditions are hellish. Those who have lost all their loved ones lose also their hope and the deaths they meet are often longed for, by then.'

Atif shook his darkly bearded head sadly. Some mental picture came to his mind's eye and passed with a slam of his hand on the table.

'When will this end,' he mourned. 'Oh Allah, free our brethren from these devils!' Then he sighed, and his high cheeks lost their shape. 'To fight seems folly and to resist peacefully is impossible.'

Sharif looked at the Imam sharply.

'How long until they come to your own doors and kill your sons and reveal your daughters' shame to the skies?' His voice rose in a crescendo and cut off suddenly in exaggerated passion. Almost a whisper, he added behind the back of his hand, leaning in, 'I have heard that some escape this punishment and can lead normal lives if they ... convert to Christianity.'

'Escape? Normal lives? Hah, so the Christians would have you believe!' Atif's indignance was obvious. 'So what, then? You fear for my daughters, now? For the daughters of Libya? Would it be worse for them to defile themselves or to be defiled against their will? With time they would forget who they are and their allegiance to The Holy One. Just think! Eventually they would mix their pure heritage with the blood of those who spilled that of their parents. They would desire to have their virgin fields sewn with the seed of our invaders—self-doomed to yield fruit soon bruised.'

Here he pulled himself back down into his seat (having half-risen in his excitement) and looked into the eyes of this latest of visitors to his still quiet community. The troubles had seemed far away, but now rumors of them troubled him in his own home. He was tempted to simply change the subject and avoid the conflict. But, ignorance would not free his people from their bondage...just as rivers of tears would do nothing to slow the issue of blood from Libya's wounds.

'No, sir. No. I fear for the future of my people'—he made no great effort, now, to include the self-proclaimed doctor in his words—'if they would turn their backs on the One who alone can free them. Finding life they would embrace death.'

Dr. Sharif coughed uncomfortably.

'Yes, well of course I think exactly as you do, friend Atif,' he stuttered. In a stronger voice, he added, 'What Muslim could tolerate the perversion of his people? I did not mean that such an evil should be done... Please do not blame me for the blackness of news unwillingly brought. Would that the world held not the knowledge of our times at all and peace filled the land.'