Musa and his brother Keita

7-1-12 News arrives that salafists al Qaeda -linked elements in Mali are destroying tombs and shrines in the ancient city of Timbuktu that have been designated by Unesco as world historical sites. The population stands around ‘helpless’ as islamists armed with kalashnikovs  and sledge hammers destroy the historical artifacts of west Africa’s old empires of Mali and Songhai .

 
The central government --too far away to maintain safety -- had miserably failed the people of this distant region . By global standards, the army, despite its recent tons of overpriced American weapons --obsolete surplus left over from old cold war era stockpiles-- was not a formidable opponent. And despite the extensive training also provided the local military as part of the ’development ‘ package forced upon the country by Washington, the army had rapidly fled the invading salafist militias and abandoned many of the Us weapons as well as having abandoned their sacred responsibility to defend the land and the people.

  In the eyes of the people, the army had become as contemptuous as the Us military officers who seemed everywhere--in the capital -- but never any place near where help was most needed.

When the islamist militias in the far regions arrived ,they immediately banned the sale and use of alcoholic beverages --permitted there since the government had agreed with the ‘’international ‘’ (western) community’s request the area ‘s historical sites be made accessible to tourists and foreign scholars seeking to visit ,or do research . The hapless government had been promised that the historical sites could possibly be as big a monetary tourist draw as some of the ancient temples of Egypt.

The tourists quickly left ,with the researchers soon to follow --almost as quickly as the army and regional government ministers and officials fled as the invaders, in shiny new pick up trucks with anti-aircraft guns , recoilless rifles, banks of katushya rockets and other heavy weapons, bolted into their truck beds, approached. When the victorious salafists soon began holding trials, condemning as ''kafirun''--unbelievers-- and publicly whipping people who had been lifelong muslims, simply for wearing traditional African, or modern western garments --quiet but knowing looks among the men in the crowds of witnesses were exchanged.

 When the salafists invaders began looting and destroying the local homes and businesses in search of ‘alcohol and weapons‘ --but always managing to ‘mistakenly’ confiscate money, jewelry, mobile phones, computers and electronics, food stuffs and vehicles instead-- some in the crowds of witnesses had to grit their teeth to keep from shouting curses. To curse the salafist militias and /or curse their ‘revolution’ had also become a public whipping offense.

The graves ,tombs and shrines of some of the local ancestors were over eight hundred to a thousand years old. Unesco had declared them international world historical sites. When the clerics that the salafists brought with them officially declared the graves, shrines and tombs of the ancestors as ‘’haram’’--unlawful --- thus subject to be destroyed ‘'in the name of god’' and the bodies of the inhabitants of these sites posthumously declared as unbelievers --kafirun ---the unashamed and angry murmurs among the crowds forced to witness these affronts, grew louder.


 When the gang-rapes of women began for being out in public and not veiled and completely wrapped up from head to toes --revealing only their eyes as the salafist clerics ordered -- Keita and his brother Musa knew the salafists were religiously insane fanatics-- beyond all normal reasoning --willing to justify --"in the name of god" --the most heinous of crimes upon god’s creation. The brothers knew that these zealot thugs must be stopped .

 Musa, the older of the pair, had served for four years in the army and had reached corporal’s rank. The aid agreement between his government and Washington had mandated that even candidates for non-commissioned officer submit to extensive psychological profiling through a battery of formal tests devised for the Pentagon by prestigious western university anthropological researchers --foremost experts, in third world cultures.

The tests , for those like Musa who had formal education and were literate, were written tests. For those with less education, each question had to be tediously explained and answers recorded by local ‘helpers’ especially recruited ,trained and paid for the task.  The results of all the tests both written and verbal were translated into English and personally evaluated by CIA case officers who wore Us military uniforms, to blend in.

The real purpose of the testing was to weed out those candidates for noncommissioned officer who were evaluated to be most unconventional and most likely to question their superior officers in the event of unusual circumstances . For example --if a sudden breakdown took place in the governmental chain of command over the military --meaning of course, in the event of a military coup--could the non-coms --the corporals and sergeants --the backbone of the army chain of command interfacing directly with the enlisted soldier--could the non-coms be counted upon to be more loyal to their superior officers instead of the civilian leaders of government --even in the event of the officers being at illegal odds with the civilian leaders and in violation of the nation’s constitution ? In other words : could the non-coms be relied upon to follow the orders of superior officers even if it meant treason?

Unknown to Musa, he had failed --the test analysis said he would likely disobey an order he thought either bad for the country, or bad morally. The test analysis said Musa possessed a strong moral core that would not allow him to follow instructions to take part in acts he found morally reprehensible --even if under orders by superior officers to do so. This included acts treasonous.

Musa found himself overlooked three times on the sergeant’s test --though each time convinced he had passed . He finally realized that he had advanced as far as he would be allowed and finally accepted an option to save face and leave the military in return for the promise of a secure office job working as one of several unofficial assistants to the Deputy of the Regional Under-Secretary for Tourism Development .

Being the oldest son in his family with two unmarried sisters at home, when Musa had gained what he thought was a secure position with government, he had sent for his next-to-youngest brother, Keita to live with him and help ease the financial burden on their parents.

Unfortunately the Regional Under-Secretary and his Deputy fled before the army did, when the salafist militias suddenly approached --seemingly from out of no where--and Musa found himself without a job as well as stranded in the region and guardian to his younger brother ,when government authority there collapsed.

He quickly buried in an isolated spot, the small wad of money he had managed to save, his old army uniform, his military discharge papers, and his service medals. Once the salfist militias had identified Musa as a government employee, they interrogated him about his job with regional tourism development and deemed him unimportant, but still decided to slap him around and place a pistol to his head several times while accusing him of being a “black devil liquor procurer “ for the government.

His interrogation lasted only a day and a half --perhaps because the salafists shrewd eyes quickly assessed that no ransom worth anything would be obtained from his family for him . Also he was clearly of no importance to the government either, so therefore of even less importance to them . He had shown the militiamen during the ’theater’ of their interrogation , enough of what they perceived to be fear to flatter their already swollen egos and justify their inflated sense of themselves as '‘masters'‘ in this land.

 Meanwhile the salafists had heard and believed the old rumors that the historical shrines and tombs of the region contained possibly tons of gold and golden artifacts from ancient black empires.--perhaps richer in gold than Egypt’s Tut’s tomb . That thought and the continuing task of searching homes and businesses for ‘'alcoholic beverages and weapons’' as well as searching for unwrapped women to gang rape , consumed too much of the salafists valuable time to bother any further with an unimportant Musa --when they tired of slapping him around, and taking turns pointing guns to his head, they let him go.

He did not say much to his anxious little brother about his time in captivity. As soon as he heard that Musa had been taken for questioning by the militiamen ,the boy had followed his older sibling’s instructions and gone to the agreed upon hiding spot with their possessions and their motorbike filled with fuel -- prepared to wait for three days before trying to make his way alone to their parent’s home in the south.

When Musa returned , Keita smiling broadly could not hide his relief . But he soon knew from the tight muscles in his brother’s jaw ,and the bruises still on his face, something was different. The white teeth that used to easily form a grin for him were now kept concealed by lips pressed tightly together, and most of all, Keita noticed from Musa’s unusual long silences , that his brother’s jovial and friendly personality had altered.

Keita could now sense in his brother a simmering --no--he could sense more of a seething of indignation squeezed and tamped down by considerable self control -- but like tamped explosives --the compression only making them more volatile --more destructive in force when they finally detonate.

Keita and the very quiet Musa gathered their few possessions, dug up their money, slipped into the market area to buy about two gallon of drinking water in a refillable plastic container . They then paid a few coins for enough dried dates ,cooked goat’s meat and rice with flat bread to last them a couple of days .Risking the daytime heat, they quietly disappeared on their reliable, but very crude-looking motorbike into the arid country side .

They arrived at a small dried waddy about ten miles south east that Musa had identified from the map, as a site within walking distance of where he knew the army had a tiny out post and munitions dump. In the army’s haste to retreat he was sure there would still be useful supplies there.

About a mile from the outpost he cut the bike’s engine and he and Keita walked through the sandy terrain, taking turns pushing the bike so as not to alert any salafists that might be there ahead --if they had already found the place.  He and Keita stashed the bike behind a large pile of very old stones --the last remnants of a broken wall said to be from pre-colonial times that now sheltered near it ,scraps of green shrub grass standing out against sandy terrain .

They crept towards the perimeter of the outpost thinking it abandoned--when suddenly in the distance they could faintly hear the sound of voices. The militiamen were sitting on the ground atop pieces of folded plastic sheeting and using their truck for shade. Two of them were armed with soviet era AK-74s . One had a Dragunov sniper rifle and one was armed with a Belgian Fal aasault rifle --Nato’s standard weapon.  Another gunman approached from the direction of what Musa guessed was the latrine --the hamam. This one --the fifth --seemed to be of more importance --Musa concluded --from the man’s wide arm gestures when speaking to the others, the repeated pointing of his finger-- possibly as if for emphasis and how quickly the others responded to him when he spoke. He wore a tan military vest with several hand grenades attached , a pistol belt with what Musa believed to be a US designed Desert Eagle .50 caliber hand gun manufactured by Israeli Weapons Industries.

He did not sit, but stood talking near the others sitting around the parked white pickup truck. Musa could also identify what he believed to be a .50 caliber machine gun on a tripod swivel , bolted to the truck’s bed.

Corporal Musa could quickly notice the lack of discipline among the militia. No sentry posted . no one watching the perimeter to see who approached --as if they were sure that there could be no threat against them. All of them gathered together -- bunched in one place . Easy targets Musa thought --his jaw tightening --the bruises on his face --his humiliation still stinging.

But could he kill ? He was a soldier, but had never seen war. Could he do what needed to be done when the time arose? And what of the boy ? Keita was no soldier. He was still a school boy .Maybe the best thing would be to think of Keita and the family and get him to safety. Their mother would understand --father would too. No parent wants a dead son --soldier or not .

“We will return to the wall where we left the bike. “ he whispered “It is cooler there . We will wait until night and then see what we are able to do. “

Keita nodded his head in compliance to his brother’s decision ,but the detached and distant tone in Musa’s voice made the younger brother feel a slight and uncomfortable chill --as if some of the warmth he had grown over the many years to expect in his brother ,was now strangely not there .


 At three am the sands had released enough of the day’s accumulated blistering heat and had finally cooled sufficiently  for Keita and Musa to begin what they knew must be done.