As we remember the 20th anniversary of 9/11, I want to share a story about
Jihad. This is not a story about global terrorism, religious extremism, and
death. It’s a story about a devout Muslim, neighbor-love, and hope.
A few years after 9/11, I was living in a neighborhood in Addis Ababa known
as Little Mogadishu. The neighborhood got its name from the numerous
Somali refugees who had fled there from the violence ravaging Somalia. My
neighbors carried stories of terror and trauma similar to survivors of 9/11.
At the heart of Little Mogadishu is a bustling open-air market. Throughout this
labyrinth, you can find vegetables, electronics, fashion clothes, international
money transfers, khat, and pretty much everything in between. So one day I
ducked inside a tiny shop to buy a pair of shoes.
As so often, I was carrying my laptop with me. My entire professional life was
inside that computer, and I foolishly took it with me everywhere I went... Read More