Below is an excerpt from Maktan Sirhan’s journals after her escape from Syria. It is not clear who fathered Mu’mad. Maktan’s entries are always shielded, as if she is afraid someone will read her words someday!
I am Muhammad’s mother, although affectionately I refer to him in short as Mu’mad. We are proud Muslims fresh from the sands of Syria and now in the land of the infidels. Today I sat on the college steps, my limbs and head fully covered by a black floor length abayas, and burka. A group of male students climbed the steps and passed close-by. Quickly I made sure my hands were covered and cowered at the sight of them. Successfully I had vanished under my black veil. When the young men finally entered the university building I breathed a sigh of relief. I watched my precious Mu’mad through my sheer shield as he took his awkward steps about the expansive lawn and tossed his purple ball into the air. This was difficult having licentious, perverted, filthy soulless Westerners so close to my pure little boy. Being in the infidels’ presence made my skin crawl. The West boasted of love and freedom yet their decadence only proved they were the most corrupt, a money-grubbing idolatrous group of miscreants. That is, besides the Israelis. Had they never studied the fall of the Roman Empire? I had. In fact, I studied a lot about the ways of other cultures. I knew who was at the root of this blasphemy and corruption. Whereas the idiotic Christian Crusaders followed along blindly, it was really the Jews who controlled the world. I understood all of that. Peace would come to the precious Muslims only when all Jews were eliminated.