If ordinary Muslims in countries like Yemen have lost all sympathy with radicalism, then the high water mark of Islamic terrorism may have passed. I recall an incident a few days earlier in the town of Ta’izz. Wandering through the market at night, inspecting the stalls selling bandoliers and daggers, I notice that I am being followed. A smartly dressed young man 18m behind me who stops when I stop. Alarm bells ring. Finally I lose patience and turn on him.
“Are you following me?”
He smiles and nods. “I am police.”
“Is it dangerous here?”
He looks surprised. “No! I want to ask something.” Taking my arm, he steers me into a shop that sells traditional silver jewelry. This is a hustle, I think, but I’m wrong. The shopkeeper brings us tea. The policeman huddles closer and hands me his cellphone.
I read a text message in English. “Ramzi, I love you. Please come and live with me in Hounslow.”
He shows me other messages. “386 texts in two years!” His face shines with masculine pride. “We met here in this market when she came on holidays.” He taps my knee. “My friend. Should I go?”
I think for a moment.
“I know what you are thinking,” he says. “Too dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” That was not the first thought I had.
He frowns. “I heard on the BBC about the knife crime. Hounslow is part of London, isn’t it? And many young men are getting killed.”
In a country where men habitually carry traditional daggers, the BBC reports had been noted by many people; he wasn’t the first to mention the issue. I put his mind at rest and he relaxes, insisting that I read a selection of his messages. After another glass of tea we reach a unanimous decision. He will try life in Hounslow, and to hell with the danger.
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