The Foreign Service Journal, April 2012

his shirt. “Marwan,” she said sleepily. “Yes, dear,” he answered. “Be careful today, please. Stay out of trouble and don’t do anything stu- pid. You have a wife and four kids at home.” “I know, I know,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead. Marwan opened the garage and began to work. As his fingers fumbled through the toolbox for a socket, he raised his eyes and looked through the window at Ahmed’s shuttered shop. What had happened to Ahmed wasn’t fair, he thought. Predictably, as had become the pattern in recent weeks, a demonstra- tion once again made its way toward the city center. And nearly as soon as the tail end had passed his shop, pro- testers began retreating, running back with looks of sheer terror. Soon po- licemen followed, swinging batons and firing pistols. Bodies fell to the ground as red streams of blood pud- dled in the gutter. Right in front of Marwan’s shop, the police grabbed a young man who began to yell. The two policemen who held him began to beat himmer- cilessly — on the head, about the shoulders, in the stomach. His wails grew weaker and weaker. Marwan couldn’t look away. He thought of Ahmed. He thought of his kids. He remembered Leyla’s admonition that morning. The beating continued. Marwan’s weight shifted from one foot to the other as he swayed back and forth in front of the window of his garage. He put his hand on the handle of the door. He pulled it off. The boy slumped to his knees, and the police continued to beat him. Marwan was sweating. He seized the doorknob, then paused and dropped his head. His eyes settled on his badly-worn black leather shoes. A few of the stitches on the left one had already broken, and the sole was starting to separate. “Gotta get that fixed,” Marwan thought to himself, then nodded sideways once and smiled weakly. Lifting his head again, Marwan took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed the door open. A P R I L 2 0 1 2 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 47 There weren’t enough jobs, and people were getting sick of suffering quietly.