Sword of Muhammed

So what, Professor Young asked her Journalism 101 students on the second day of class, had they learned by comparing the front pages of Honolulu's two daily newspapers?

"You can tell which one's local," said Lt. Basel Zakly Faris, USMC. "We, Fatima and I, that is, since Sandy didn't show up, counted five local stories in the Star-Bulletin, three in the Advertiser."

"Yes, and by the way," Prof. Young said, "Sandy called me, she's dropping out. Too much dealing with real world facts wouldn't be a good thing for her romance novels, she said. Anyway, Fatima ... "

"Bas is right. And we counted six local people in Page One photos in the Star-Bulletin, three in the Advertiser."

"Very good," the professor said, "you've discovered the first rule of successful newspapers -- make it local, local, local."

The rest of the discussion went well, although Prof. Young did get a wee bit testy in explaining the difference between news and advertising after Steven Chinn, a business major whose Trumpish dreams included newspaper magnate, complained that he checked all of the ads and there wasn't a single story about an advertiser in the whole paper!

She ended the class by assigning a chapter of textbook reading, and as students filed out the wise professor could see something was happening already between Baz and Fatima, something that went beyond being study partners. It was as if they had some deeply essential thing in common, though what it was she couldn't guess.

Baz, wearing his green camouflage uniform with the sleeves rolled up and polished boots, fell in beside her. "Still up for coffee?" he said. That was the plan when they parted yesterday.

"I ... " she started, speed-sorting conflicting thoughts. A proper Muslim girl would not walk alone with a man not of her family. But there would be times on this mission, her uncle warned, when it would be necessary to set aside her normal virtue. This was one of those times. "... I'd love to."

She wore a tan, ankle-length denim skirt and a loose-fitting, long-sleeved blouse of burnt orange linen, with a tan beret covering her head.

"If I may say so, I admire the modesty with which you present yourself to the world. Modest, Muslim, but also modern and stylish."

She blushed, looked away. This Marine was so direct ...

"It's the way I was raised," he continued as they strolled, "very Muslim, prayer five times a day, making Hajj, but nothing that shouts out to every American, 'Yo, raghead here!' Know what I mean?"

"You must tell me," she said, giggling, "about growing up."

Over coffee he did, and as Baz talked, Fatima's feelings of affection only grew. So too did her sense that he would soon be her ally as she took up the sword of Muhammed against America.