A Happier Imam

For the imam, it was revelatory. For so long, cinching out even a toehold for their mosque had been difficult, every step forward met with two steps back of fear and oppression and hate. Even one of their local Afghani members had been attacked by a redneck with a Molotov cocktail. Many days, the imam despaired ever getting momentum.

But what Yusuuf had pulled off was a miracle. New white Muslim members, with white sons and daughters. New funding for a proper mosque. This had made all the sacrifice and all the doubt worth it.

He came over to Elizabeth's home weekly, leading the women in learning the words of the prophet, sealing their subservience to Allah. And today, he came bearing gifts -- new jewelry Ayatul Kursi cuffs for the women and necklaces in the shape of the country from which their men hailed.

"These, you will always have closet to your heart. Symbolizing the origins of your men, their cultures having conquered yours. Your cuffs always reminding you that you are Muslims, and must obey the prophet always."

"They are beautiful," Elizabeth said, eyes sparkling. "How did you make them?"

"We melted the Christian jewelry. Your harlot jewelry. Melting the past for a better tomorrow."