A short memoir by Soran Mustafa Kurdi
One night, from the nights we stayed in Las Vegas, K, L and I went out to a Lebanese restaurant. We wanted to taste the eastern Falafel and Kebab for we had had only fast foods for about two weeks.
On the way back to our hotel, at 11:00 p.m., K and L decided to go to a strip club, but I refused to go in.
While I was sitting on a bench outside, two Americans, one of them muscled while the other was slim, approached me. They were amazed why I was sitting in front of a strip club in a cold night.
“Why are sitting here?” asked the slim one.
I said I did not want to go in.
After conversing for a few minutes, our subject shifted to something else.
“Where are you from?” asked the muscled one.
“Iraq” I answered.
“Why do you visit a country like ours, why don’t you visit another country?”
“Why?” I asked back, surprised.
“We kill your people, steal your oil, as the same time announce that we have come to free your country.”
I remained silent.
The muscled man folded up his blue jeans’ left cuff to his knee, pointed to a mark of a big cut on it.
“What is this for? Stealing oil!”
