Killing For God

Tuesday, August 04, 2015


It was a holy step.

"Go in peace, daughter,” the religious leader had told Zubeida. “Remember this you’re about to do is a show of loyalty to our god and our country. May he help you do his will.”

And do you think Zubeida was on a peace mission? Think again. She was taking a step many called jihad. She was to bomb the Canadian embassy in an African country. Her country had given her all the blessings and equipment she needed to undertake this task. Dying for her country. But why the Canadian embassy? Reasons not well-established. Rumours had it that Canada was a big foe to her country. The sanctions, you see. That the Canadians had cut links with her country. And was it not said that the same people had been involved in the mass killing of a thousand militiamen? But what was the problem with that? You see, the militia men were a threat to Zubeida’s country. First, they had overpowered the president claiming he was a dictator, the militiamen. Then they had forcefully conducted a virginity test on all women in the country. Okay, almost all.

“We are doing this for our god,” the militia leader had said during an interview with Al Jazeera. He had told Cable News Network the same thing and Fox News and British Broadcasting Corporation had the same news.

So, Canada had thought it wise to intervene. Peace talks were held but it seemed gun talks were the only unifying factor. The most important Canadians in the process of mediation had lost their lives.

“We have cut links with the country,” Canada said after the brutal loss.

But it was not the country’s fault. The militiamen were to blame. So war bells were sounded and it was Canada versus the militiamen.

“They want to destroy our people,” a religious leader among the militiamen had said. “We must avenge for our god.”

And a thousand militiamen sank in the soil. Soldiers from the Canadian side were also injured and some lost their lives. Peace prevailed. A new president was elected with transparency and life went on as usual. However, Canada cut links with the country completely. The Unites States of America followed suit and soon the country was an island. No, that is better. The country was a desert with no oasis.

“We must avenge for our god,” the religious leader had said in a private sermon. “Anyone willing to help our country will be rewarded handsomely. Anyone ready will be greatly appreciated."

It meant losing one’s life. Zubeida had been touched. A young virgin who had survived virginity test. She had not been touched. So she talked to the religious leader privately. Marhmood was pleased with the young heroine. He gave her a time-bomb among other things she required to walk the pilgrim journey.


She was in Uganda. Smartly dressed. She spied all the movements of the staff at the Canadian embassy. Coast clear. She headed right inside. The time-bomb wrapped on her belly. Not on yet.

Carefully she crept into the ambassador’s office.

“How may I help you young lady?” asked the ambassador. A young man from Alberta.

“I’ve come to appreciate all the efforts your people have put in place in helping this country,” she said. ‘This country’ meant Uganda. You and I know she was not Ugandan!

“Oh, that’s nothing,” the ambassador said with pride. “Tea or coffee?”


The ambassador dialed some keys on his telephone. Perhaps to call the tea-girl. Zubeida looked at the young man. Handsome and yes, rich! So unfortunate she was going to kill him. Kill. That was the only opportunity to push the fatal button on the device on her belly.

“Zubeida don’t!” her conscience told her.

“Do it, you swore!” the same conscience said. Or do we call it proscience?

You see, there was no turning back. The careless security guards had let her in for one simple fact—she was the most beautiful ‘Ugandan’ girl they had ever seen. Without even talking to the sleepy receptionist, she had gotten inside and without knocking, there she was in the ambassador’s office; the machine on her belly. Pretending to be Ugandan. Would she waste this chance? Look, she would be rewarded handsomely. Balderdash! How do they reward you after you are dead?

“I can’t do this,” she said in a whisper.

“Do what?”


“Do what?” the ambassador asked again.

Tea was brought by the tea-girl who suspected that things were not as they should be. Yes, from the tea-girl's look. What a hot hot hot afternoon!

She betrayed her god and her country. Zubeida.


Adapted from
Man of The Cloth and Other Stories
An Anthology of Short Stories
by Brady Kenya
First Edition

No comments:

Powered by Blogger.