I couldn’t take it no more. I couldn’t just keep goin’ to the community college while my brothers suffered under the hands of unbelievers. I got tapes showing their life, I handed out those tapes, talked about it in mosques. And finally someone gave me a phone number. I called the phone number and said I wanted to help.
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I said goodbyes to all I knew, to Ibn ul Khattab, too. The next thing I know, I’m in Caucasus. I told them that I am an Arab. They didn’t want to believe me. They beat me up, put me in a pit. They said they are goin’ to check my story. They say they always have people try to help them, but they turn out to be imperialist spies. I was told if it turned out that I lied, they’d kill my ass, and if I can’t be helpful, they’ll sell me as a slave to a rich Chechen.
I spent two weeks in the pit with worms and rats. Suddenly they pull me out by my right hand and one guy has a dagger, just like the one I have back in America. I thought they are goin' to kill me. They said in bad Arabic, “This is going to be a test for you.” And they gave me the dagger.
They lead me to a tent and said, “Here, this is a prisoner, finish him off.” I see an unbeliever on the ground, they already cut his arms and legs off. He’s bleeding, and is making faces like he’s tryin’ to lift something. They all looked at me.
I kneeled and put the dagger to his neck. I cut it, just like cutting chicken for my mother. More blood came out. The head kind of flopped back and when I reached the bone, they told me to stop and one of them said in poor Arabic, “Takbir!” to glorify Allah. We all said “Allahu Akbar.” The body tried to breathe hard. It only made whistlin'and gurgling sounds through the blood. Then they told me to really finish. I cut bewteen the bones. I found it's easier that way. I tried not to watch the face of the head, and then put the head on the guy’s chest. I hope the guy gets mercy in Heavens. I couldn’t eat anything that night.
They told me I proved to be a real jiggeet. That’s a noble warrior in their language. They asked me what else I can do. I was afraid, so I told them I can teach them Arabic, so that they can speak Arabic on the radio instead of Chechen and Russians won’t understand them. They said I am very smart. They gave me a Kalashnikov. They also gave me a palmtop computer they said came from an eliminated reporter. I have a tricky way of using my community college e-mail to keep our group in touch with our top commander.
I’ve been real helpful. They tell me, “You’re a man of the sword, Sayfullah!” I told them sure, that’s what my name is all about in Arabic. The sword of Allah.