I am an immigrant to Netherlands from Central Asia. I was born in a middle of a desert, where there was pretty much nothing. Just one mosque. So yeah very often we would go there as kids to listen the imam that was the only source of information. He told us about God, the prophets. Dont get me wrong, my parents were muslim, but they were so busy trying to earn some money for food and clothing that they had no time to educate me about anything. We lived in an abandoned unfinished house made of dirt bricks mixed with dryed grass. All their spare time they were collecting bricks to shut down opennings that were suppose to be windows, we couldnt afford glass. We had only one door in the whole house, which was the front door and it would spontaneously open, so a special brick was holding it shut. Sometimes i would go to mosque just because I was so terribly hungry and I was ashamed of it. I didnt have the heart to tell my mom that i was hungry, because i saw how incredibly tired and exhausted she was trying to get some food on the table. So usually I told her i had eaten already. People working at the mosque had a different life. They were wealthy had tv and even a refrigirator! The mosque wasnt just a building, it was decorated by tiny tiles all the way to the roof. For us it looked like a palace and there even was a fountain inside. A fountain in the middle of a dessert, felt like a fairytale and the imam had most expensive silky clothing that I could only imagine to wear. Everytime I went to the mosque the imam was surrounded by many children and he was telling stories from Koran. At the entrance i would always receive peice of bread. I wasnt allowed to enter and leave without eating. And after the stories we would have dinner together. Sometimes i managed to take some food in my pockets for my parents. But this one time i was caught on it. The imam told me to stay after dinner he wanted to talk to me. He told me about the sin i had commited: stealing from a mosque was strictly prohibited and i was to bring my parents to him so he could talk to them. I tried to explain that my parents were hungry and i just wanted to help them. But he wouldnt listen. When i left i decised to never to go back to the mosque. I didnt want my parents to know i was stealing. So I lasted about a week and eventually i just couldnt survive without the food from the mosque. When i went pack the mosque was shut down. I walked around it to see if there was someone inside, but there was nobody. An old women who was selling chewing gums and sigarettes on the corner told me police stormed the mosque and found weapons inside. So every from the mosque was put in prison for terrorism. I didnt believe her. She probably spiced up the story i thought. But later i was told that that waa true and that the mosque was sponsored from abroad to find recruits for jihad. They were recruiting children to overthrow the government to create an Islamic state with sharia law etc.

So after the mosque was gone i became ill and my parents brought me to hospital. The doctor who first didnt even want to take me eventually came around and said i was heavely underfed. My parents got into a fight and divorced. My mom couldnt afford to take care of me so she sent me to an orphan house. It is there that i met the most diagusting people i have ever known. Like 80% of the orphans were babies. I was the eldest i was 7 at the time. Goverment sent food every week. Stuff like bread, butter, vegetables fruits in big quantities. And what the workers did was they would distribute butter and other expensive foods between eachother. So for breakfast we would get tiny bit of butter and often no butter at all. Stealing from orphans wasnt their only crime. There was this one guy who just loved to lock kids up. When i first came there he told me i had such long eyelashes. From that day i knew i had to stay the fuck away from him. You know once when i was sleeping he was checking if everyone was in bed. They do that every night but mainly they just check the babies. But this guy he came all the way to my room ( i was sleeping in the basement). He was like: hey are you asleep? I said: No, i cant sleep. He asked me why and sat on my bed. At that time i didnt understand where he was going but i just felt he was bad and insecere. So i told him i couldnt sleep cuz i missed my friend. He asked me who it was. And i said: remember the mosque? The imam, him. He used to teach me how to use weapons. I need to cut throats of unbelievera as we do with sheep for Allah. He suddenly became angry and disgusted. Are you crazy he asked? Why do you even think of that!. I told him my life is Allah's and that with my brothers we will clean the streets from bad muslims and unbelievers. He got up. Told me he would report what i said. And i said fine. Do it. From that night on i dont remember him ever talking to me. Now i think maybe he was being just friendly etc. But back then i felt unsafe. He loved innocent child thing and i just wanted to show him that i was bats shit crazy. Thats how i defended myself on the street. When you are a small skinny kid, you just have to be creative to survive. And since everyone was scared of the mosque people i figured i should pretend to be one of them. Later on my mom picked me up. She had found a job and she promised we would never go hungry again. I never told anyone about my experience in the orphan house. I guess i was waiting for this moment.