Rebels of Mindanao Read Online Free PDF Page B

hundreds of destitute, was a colorful pile steaming with last week’s rotting garbage and smoldering from the combustion of whatever the bright red and blue plastic bags contained. Green scum floated on stagnant pools between shanties with rusty corrugated steel roofs pushed together to form a village. She had flown into the dirtiest city in Southeast Asia, the contrast more vivid with the image of Singapore, the cleanest city in Asia, still fresh in her mind.
    She had a too-long layover, waiting for Philippine Airlines to announce the inevitable delays for her connecting flight to Davao City, sitting on uncomfortable benches in the holding pen in front of gate nine, she had time to continue to think and remember.
    The afternoon thunderheads were beginning to form when they called her flight to Davao City, and in an hour and a half she would be back in Mindanao.

5
The Turk
    S heik Kemal looked up and nodded at his visitor, motioning him to sit down. Mahir, not easy to impress, was impressed. Sheik Kemal was the epitome of a sheik in Mahir’s imagination, wearing a long white robe and a red and white headscarf with a black braid (possibly an important member of a Saudi tribe), plain black socks, simple black shoes, and a solid gold Rolex President weighting down his left wrist. The sheik tore a leg off the grilled chicken that had been served on newspaper lying in the middle of the low table before him and sucked on it. He looked up at Mahir and made a sweeping gesture of welcome. “Our friends in Istanbul have told me about you. Join me in this meal and we will talk.”
    Mahir sat down opposite Kemal and pulled off the other chicken leg. They exchanged pleasant conversation for a while until the sheik eventually described the undertaking proposed for his guest. Mahir’s eyes gazed around the room while he listened, and Kemal took it to be indecisiveness,rather than the contemplation it was. Mahir’s mind worked best while he focused off into the distance.
    Sheik Kemal, concerned about Mahir’s commitment and motivation, asked, “Do you want the job?” He needed a decision, or he would have to move on to the next candidate.
    But Mahir had his own question first: “Why did you choose me?”
    â€œYou are devout. You have met Abdul Sali and he approves. You can’t be traced, and you have proven yourself,” was the honest answer.
    â€œThere must be many like me.”
    â€œThere are. But you speak English. That will be important where you will be going.”
    â€œWhere will I be going, if I agree to go?”
    â€œTo Mindanao.”
    â€œOh, yes, part of Indonesia.”
    â€œNo. Just north of there, a short boat ride after Borneo. The southern Philippines.”
    â€œFor how long? What would be my mission?”
    â€œYou will be on jihad for Allah for as long as it takes you to make a delivery.
    â€œAnd then? What about my family?” Mahir was still asking the right questions, and the sheik respected him for it. He had taken some time to think while they ate.
    Sheik Kemal visited Cyprus often, but he was born near and lived in Al Khobar, Saudi Arabia. Not related directly to the royal family by birth, he was a heroic leader and a charismatic figure. On occasion he still would ride among his tribe on the horse he transported into the desert in a custom-made trailer from his mansion in the city. The King of Saudi Arabia had confirmed local authority to a rival sheik for a big chunk of Eastern Saudi, rather than to Sheik Kemal. But Kemal had the real power. His clan accepted him as their leader in the ancient sense, with power derived directly from the land and the tribesmen who herded their goats and sheep on it.
    Sheik Kemal also had money, indirect oil money. There were lots of ways to make money from the oil fields, and a percentage of most transactions in his informal fiefdom came to him in U.S. dollars in cash. He did not even have to ask for it. But he