MALUNG TV, BBC NEWS, In FINSBURY PARK.

The next week I couldn't convince J. to come down. Asif Hanif had become the first British suicide bomber in Israel and I knew Finsbury Park would be hot.

" They are all terrorists.. My cause is environmental. Tuvalu is disappearing into the sea and you want me to film a bunch of terrorists.,” said J over the phone.

He could not be swayed. The idea of money entered my head.

" Maybe we could earn money from this..?"

At this he got angry. I knew he had been a good professional journalist many years previously in New Zealand.

" I don't want money!..I don't want to be your employee! You want money? " He put the phone down.

I was in Finsbury Park with no camera. Ah well, I suppose I will just have to watch what happens again. My mobile rang, it was the BBC.

“ I hear you get to speak to Abu Hamza “

“eer..Well..” the idea of a second mainstream media infiltration was suddenly on the cards. How had they got my number? It must have been J.

" Would you film for us? "

" Err..."

“ We'll have a camera crew there in 10 minutes.”

Another TV station phoned. Channel 5 I think.

“ Would you like to film for us? “

“ Err.. Well I'm filming for the BBC but they haven't offered me any money? How did you get my number? ”

“ Oh well we'll get our stuff from ITN.”

I bumped into Colin Baker who I recognised from ITN.

“ Are you filming for the BBC? “ he asked.

“ Apparently…”

He was with another journalist I recognised from the TV who he made buy me a coffee.

" He's after a favour from me.." Colin confided.

" Sugar? " asked the other TV journalist sourly.

" One please.."

I liked Colin. He gave me loads of encouragement. I thought of the traditional rivalry between BBC and ITV news. Hmm I was up against Colin Baker. That makes me a top bollocks newsman. I showed him who Mr. Abdullah was and what I knew of what had been happening. He gave Mr. Abdullah quite a polite and professional grilling. One of the masked guys made sure he was in the background of the camera shot. A cameraman turned up for me with a burly security guard. I wasn't ready for this. I wanted to document how fundamental Islamists felt, not frighten them off.

I knew the question I would get paid for but was in no way sure how to get to it with Hamza. I asked Mr. Abdullah if he knew Asif Hanif. I could tell straight away that with a BBC camera he viewed me as having changed sides for money. When Abu Hamza preached I noticed he spoke very specifically from the Koran against suicide and against killing innocents. At the end I watched Colin in full ITN “ do you refute these allegations” mode. I think someone punched him in the guts, which looked quite funny. I went forward with huge stupid woolly microphone, South African cameraman and a burly BBC security dude in tow. I started asking if there was a truth and reconciliation council set up would he join it.

" Err between who and who? " said Hamza.

"Err..." I wasn't ready for this.

NO COMMENT shouted the short guy. He was annoying. I repeated the question, louder. He started to move from me. I suppose this was unfair journalism. No one but me had suggested the idea of a truth and reconciliation council and here I was asking him to comment on it. For the BBC. He started to walk. The last thing I wanted was to be just another media person chasing after Hamza with a camera but that was exactly what was happening. Afterwards I discussed with Colin the fundamentalists view that they broadcast what the government told them and asked him if he had ever been censored.

" I can honestly put my hand on my heart.." he started. I made him do this before he carried on.

" I can put my hand on my heart and say that I've always had complete editorial control over what I do"

He advised me against journalistic training, saying most people he knew in TV had none and to the others it was often a detriment. I didn't see his report but got the impression he thought Hamza was a terrorist. I knew a lot of my video activist friends would have thought Colin Baker was part of the establishment, but I had become bored with the moral superiority of the underground media " Us and them" attitude and wanted to find out for myself. I was determined to keep an open mind about everyone I met on this bizarre journey, Abu Hamza included.

The next week I turned up and no one wanted to talk to me especially Mr. Abdullah. I could see they felt that when I had my own camera I asked one sort of question, yet when I joined what they viewed as the opposition I had taken their line. They did not believe in a free press, but thought the press worked directly for the government. The question I had asked was genuinely mine but maybe I had been coloured by the idea of earning some money. I had no idea what would happen being more malung than professional journalist. It had gone wrong but didn't put me off the story. I don't think the BBC showed any of it. My second attempt at mainstream media infiltration had failed and I didn't hear from the BBC again.

With successes and failures I had become intrigued as to who British fundamental Islamists actually were as people. I was struck by that surprise glimmer of national pride I had felt with the reality of the situation at Finsbury Park. I got the feeling that London must be one of the most successfully racially integrated places on the face of the planet and that was something to celebrate with a film, rather than making a dogmatic film complaining about Police or government.

Given the situation, it seemed to me that Britain and London in particular was actually the best place in the world to actively seek a solution to this problem and I was angry that no one in government was doing so. It seemed bizarre how the media had focused so much energy around one person, and how much Hamza was up for it, more or less giving them what they wanted. The idea of documenting the war on terror as it unfolded from the perspective of Finsbury Park mosque intrigued me.

I got a surprise call from J. Tom Hurndall; a young British Student Journalist who had been shot by Israeli troops in Palestine was being flown back to a Hampstead hospital. His parents who were flying with him were giving a press conference. I ran from my house across Hampstead heath to find lots of TV cameras in the foyer of the hospital. J. was there apparently wearing pyjama trousers and an Army Jacket with nervous security guards trying to convince him to leave. The press liaison officer of the hospital came out and invited all with press cards to the hospital conference room. We went in with everyone else.

The nervous security tried to throw J. out. The press liaison officer walked in and announced that the conference was for those with journalist cards only. We sat tight. She came back and asked me personally to leave. Not wanting to stress out Tom's parents in such conditions I tried to persuade J. to leave with me. He told me to fuck off. As he sat there I couldn't tell if he was going to cry or go ballistic. I apologised to the organisers.

The security said I should get my mate out or they would throw him out. I told them how he had been close filming battles with Riot police for 30 years and if they wanted to get him out they should go get six of their friends just in case. They looked at each other nervously and called the police. The press liaison lady was really nice. I explained that I didn't want to cause trouble. I thought Tom, being a student journalist himself would have approved of us being there. Christopher Peacock from ITN was there smiling. He seemed to shine with a beatific glow.

Gillian Joseph was also there and remembered me from the previous week in Finsbury Park. She spoke to the press liaison lady for us, which she didn't have to do; I thought it was really nice of her. She is very beautiful. She came back in and told me everything was OK and the conference was going ahead. I didn't ask many questions of Tom's parents, the previous events having put me off my stride, but it was good to hear about the realities of Palestine from normal, Hampstead Londoners with no axe to grind no flag to fly, just a natural parents concern for a child. I got a feeling- which I still have, that they will have an important further part to play in the story of the Palestine/Israeli conflict.

The next week Abu Hamza was still about. I found out that Blunkett had sunk himself with the wording of the very law designed to rid us all of the troublesome Hamza. As far as I could tell, you could throw someone out of the country if they had a country to go to but not if they would be stateless. When Hamza had become a British citizen he had given up his Egyptian citizenship and therefore had no country to go to and would be stateless.

I wondered how David Blunkett had found himself in such a ridiculous position. The whole thing seemed absurd to me. The Sun and the world's media was here accusing, yet no police were arresting. I had read about Hamza's 16-year-old son being arrested for trying to break back into the mosque. Apparently he broke someone's jaw when they came to arrest him. I had an idea to edit the stuff we had of the kids protest into a film and thought it would be great to have an interview with Abu Hamzas son in it.

I tried to ask Hamza. I was without a camera in the media scrum but he kept turning his face away from me, trying to ignore me, obviously still angry about my BBC ventures before, which I was also frantically trying to explain. Journalists were shouting at me to fuck off. As he was turning his face this way and that I didn't notice two police had joined in until they had the short angry guy with his arms up behind his back.

All the supposedly dangerous guys with masks stepped back. Not thinking twice and used to speaking to Police in a lot more heated situations on Mayday demos I jumped in to reason with them. They eventually let go and the Finsbury crew moved off. It was at this point I sort of decided to give up with Hamza. He just seemed to egotistical for me and too into his media image.

I didn't agree with a lot of what Mr Abdullah said, but got the gut feeling that he was speaking from his heart. His whole demeanour was just totally unterrorist like. And he stood next to Hamza. I decided to concentrate more on him if he would speak to me. I remembered a film my favourite documentary Nick Broomfield had made about Eugene Terrablanche in South Africa where he had gone after Terrablanche but ended up making a film with his chauffeur.

I wondered if I was in a similar situation. I managed to befriend a younger Muslim guy who had been watching my antics with amusement. We went to an Internet cafe where he showed me his website which had animated gifs of flamethrowers burning U.S, U.N and Israeli flags. He didn't seem like a terrorist or likely to blow himself up at any point in the near future but he knew what he believed and why.

Like a lot of young Muslims he is fiercely intelligent, but he had a laid back demeanour and could listen to my criticisms and come back with well thought out measured answers. I learnt a lot from him about how young British Islamists felt. Unfortunately he would not appear on camera, a situation I was to encounter all too often with young fundamental Islamists. He spoke to me about Taliban trucks driving through Karachi recruiting youngsters for the war in Afghanistan. Apparently a lot of kids jumped in without telling their parents where they were going.

He said that Abu Hamza had advised young Muslims in Finsbury Park to go to Afghanistan just to know what it felt like to live under real Islamic law. He told me that Taliban just meant " student." I asked him whether they were teaching each other to use Kalashnikovs in the Mosque before it closed. He said he had never seen a gun in the mosque and that surely if they were going to do that, hiding in a safe house would be less blatant than testing out guns in a mosque. He thought the story laughable. I asked him if he or his friends had ever fired a Kalashnikov.

" No have you? " he asked

I had to admit that I had. A lot of travelers in Asia told of a place in Pakistan called Dara where they made Kalashnikovs and other handguns with machine tools. Apparently kids made bullets in the street by hand. As I was in Peshawar I thought what the hell. I had befriended a German guy. I don't usually get on with Germans, yet when you find one with a sense of humor they usually have a wickedly dry sense of humor. He was that sort of German. Dara was in tribal territory officially off limits to foreigners but we thought we'd give it a go. The bus, as usual for Pakistan, was stuffed full of men with no women anywhere. One of the other passengers turned round.

" Where are you going? "

" Dara. " we answered.

" What for? "

" We need weapons!" I announced dramatically.

" You can't go to Dara! Dara is tribal territory!"

" My friend is tribal from England and I am tribal from Germany." my new German friend answered.

" Oh..." I watched the guy explain this to the person sitting next to him in Urdu and nodded seriously and aggressively in the right places.

" Oh..." said the other guy seriously. He had obviously not heard of tribal wars in the UK and was having trouble picturing tattooed and pierced warriors fighting tribal wars against... err...beefeaters?

We carried this on in Dara where as promised we saw kids making bullets in the street. We were offered an Arnie style pump action shotgun to fire or a Kalashnikov and went for the later. We tried to order 400 of each for our tribal wars back home. The vendor helpfully offered us pen guns, which were more concealable. They were the size of a pen but much heavier. He fired one into a wall, which made me jump back.

" Fucking hell, you could kill someone with that! "

On the way home we were pulled off the bus at a Police roadblock. They gave us a full on search asking us if we had bought pen guns. Unfortunately they found a lump of hash in my pocket. The guy in charge who seemed very camp made a big deal of having to arrest me. I offered them money.

" Maybe you want to say that a little slower for him." my German friend said helpfully.

" Do you want money?" I asked again. He reached into my pocket and grabbed my money.

" Yes this is your money!" he answered and put it back.

I got a sinking feeling. I was composing a letter in my head to my mum.

“ Don't pay any baksheesh, just leave me here. I am really sorry.. “

but my German friend carried on talking to them calmly. The guy in charge was still saying how he was going to arrest me and take me to jail as he flagged down another bus, put us on it and waved goodbye. It was at that point that I realized they were all stoned. I waved goodbye smiling. They were all in fits of laughter and were probably pleased to have another lump of hash to smoke.

Not knowing what to do I transferred all we had on tape from the kids and Finsbury Park to my computer and looked through it all. I decided to have a go at editing the kids stuff into a film. At the beginning, to put it all in a strange context I put Mr. Abdullah in shouting

" And you accept Bush and Blair to say that this was done in the name of Jesus? Jesus, peace be upon him said Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall inherit the earth. Is this peace? Is this what Jesus was talking about? "

My first attempt at editing was really obsessive. I hardly slept for ten days and was constantly stoned. As I put music to film I was totally re-awed by what the kids had actually done. I put Hamza's comments about the kids running the country at the end and Mr. Abdullah:

" If you got a kind little furry animal, it doesn't do anyone any harm and you push it into a corner and its being prodded and poked, eventually that animal will turn round and bite you. This is what is happening in the Muslim world today."

I had no idea what had happened in the mosque before, but what Mr. Abdullah had told me that day, four days into the war I thought was worth reporting.

It was decided that concrete blocks be put up around parliament to deter suicide bombers. Now before the Iraq war there were no concrete blocks. Apparently Iraq had been attacked for our safety, and after the event concrete blocks go up. Hmmm...Something about this made me wonder if someone inside government had the feeling that attacking Iraq had made London less safe. With these blocks being the only physical thing we could see of the expense the government had gone to on taxpayers behalf I wondered if these weren't the most expensive concrete blocks in the world.

I didn't join in at Finsbury Park for a while, but maintained a presence without a camera; really just so Mr. Abdullah knew I was still there. I spoke further to some of the younger guys there. I was not surprised, this being England, that they were really friendly to me. These were the guys I had hoped I would find, they could see through my chosen image and we could converse without fear of each other, even though older Muslims told them not to talk to me. They were really enjoying themselves, obviously quite tickled by their sheik's badass-edness. They loved the media scrum, waving their hands in front of world media cameras now being a regular part of their Friday prayers made this a pretty unique mosque.

I remembered going to church as a kid and wondered how I would have felt if the vicar at my local church had suddenly become public enemy number 1. As the worlds media pundits came and went, with no interest in how any of these guys felt, completely Hamza focused for half an hour and then gone I realized why this little bit of the war on terror seemed so one dimensional and sterile. I never saw the same TV journalist twice. Sticking around gave me a feeling of who was who and how things went here. I also realized that maybe time was on my side. I could learn to film, make mistakes, but as long as I was honest, listened and was looking for peace there was a reason for being here. I also just wanted to know what would happen next.

I was deliberately unjournalistic, and spoke about my own opinions. Although I was so obviously not a Muslim, I enjoyed being a local. I asked as many people as possible what happened in the mosque while it was open. I got a feeling that these people were local Finsbury Park Muslims. Certainly conspiracy theorists, but not international terrorists. I wondered if all the terrorists weren't long gone. The guys in masks the media had ominously focused on didn't say much but I didn't expect them to. They really weren't scary people. At moments when hysteria had calmed for a bit I watched Hamza talk to journalists calmly, without fuss. Often he would turn down interviews and then get drawn into conversations anyway. Being a preacher, he had the preacher's love of talking. I noticed he had an unintentionally comical foreigners way of speaking English

As there were a maximum of 3 women at the mosque at any given week I wondered how female journalists would be treated. There was no problem, and when I quizzed them afterwards they often remarked with surprise how polite he was. I wondered from a distance who Abu Hamza actually was. I hadn't warmed to him, and would have agreed with the Sun's portrayal of him if it weren't for the man next to him. Mr. Abdullah just didn't seem like the sort of person who would secretly plot terrorist outrages, or be so devoted to someone who would.

He wasn't an immigrant and spoke with a totally London attitude and a totally London accent. I really wanted to talk to him some more, I still didn't have my own camera and it was a mark of how deeply unpopular Hamza is that I couldn't find one person with a camera in the activist community who was willing to come near to Finsbury Park and this story, and no one more professional than I was here documenting it either.

I got some work helping a druid to raise a monolith.

" You're wasting your time." he told me " Its all just a three ring circus. "The media is totally controlled; even people like Tony Benn are in on it. They are the worst, because they pretend there is some sort of opposition. It's a fucking charade."

" But you don't know that for certain" I countered. "I'm finding out for myself, I can't give up just because you say so."

" You're wasting your time."

" Stop saying that."

I didn't go back to Finsbury park for a while. One Friday off to take a copy of my finished film about the kids to Finsbury Park. I approached Mr. Abdullah for the first time since our falling out over the BBC thing.

" Here you go, this is about the kids protest. Thanks for being in it anyway.."

I didn't stick around. After the break I had from these people I felt like an alien, by most people I had been at best tolerated. I wasn't a Muslim; I wasn't there to pray. This was their deal and I was a kaffir.

I saw on the news that the F.B.I said they had a prisoner in Guantanamo bay who was implicating Abu Hamza as an al qaida recruiter. I was sleeping in the spare room of a friend, G. who had some experience making documentaries with real production companies. The plan was to wake up Friday morning, buy a camera on Totenham court rd, and have it charged and ready to film for midday in Finsbury Park. And to know how to work it. G. usually drank at least a half bottle of whisky a day and had trouble with mornings. I wasn't worried. I shared a bottle of whisky with him thinking it was a bit of a tall order but if it was meant to come together it would. The next morning we woke up and were in Totenham court rd by 10. I had a print out from the Internet showing the price for the camera I had set my heart on from Amazon.com.

Buying electrical goods on Totenham court rd was just like being back in Delhi. I swear if I wasn't talking to the same people they were at least from the same families. No one wanted to match the Internet price; it was a case of how close we could get to it. There was none of the " first customer " Delhi voodoo, which was a shame. In Delhi if you are the first customer you get a rock bottom price but you better be buying and not browsing. Leave without buying and the shopkeeper thinks that you have cursed his whole day. I thought this was just a snide way of getting you to part with your money until I went back to a shop I had refused the opportunity of being the first customer in and the shopkeeper refused to sell me anything. I had only been in the shop once, had been to England and was back in his shop a year later and he still remembered me.

We got down to 15 quid over what I had in my pocket in one shop. I went to another and blagged the guy that someone else had offered the camera to me for 15 quid less.

" With a free tape." G. Interjected.

He agreed to match this and we had a camera. It was 11 o'clock. We were on a motorbike so got to Finsbury Park within 20 minutes. Christopher Peacock was there complete with a satellite transmitter van with an Ariel heading off into the skies.

" Hello, remember me? " I smiled

" Yes I do, who was your friend? I thought we were all going to be thrown out! "

G. Engaged him in friendly debate about the issues involved. He was a Punjabi from the west midlands and had twin sisters who had converted to Islam. Their husbands were involved in Islamic relief efforts. I liked Christopher. He still had a disquietening beatific glow around him. There was another TV journalist I recognized who was looking much more nervous. As ITN fired up their satellite G. went over the road to the jewelers to ask if we could plug the battery charger for our camera in whilst I read the instructions. I remember as I crouched over the camera box I closed my eyes and prayed for 5 minutes although I have no idea who I was praying to. As Islamists gathered Christopher and the other journalist were up by the front talking to the police. I thought I would have a bit of fun.

" Everything OK? " I asked.

" Yes."

" They don't like you lot do they?"

" No "

" You'll be O.K. Just don't get in front of them while they are praying because if they are bending down praying to Allah and they get up and see you there they will come and punch you. "

" Err... I'll have to take an editorial decision.." started the other guy.

We didn't film Abu Hamza preaching, instead choosing to leave the battery charging for as long as possible. The comedy terrorist had struck that week and I was trying to compose a question for Hamza which would link in with this.

" Mr. Hamza is the comedy terrorist any challenge to your role in British Society? "

I noticed that this was easily his worst moment I had witnessed. Mr. Abdullah was almost holding him up as he was preaching. Was this because he was guilty? Or because he was scared now the F.B.I. had got involved? Maybe he was ill. It was strange to see him, usually so blustery and arrogant, looking so frail. As Muslims prayed G. ran to the shop to get the battery out. I looked round. Where the fuck was Christopher and the other guy? I thought they had gone home. I peeped round the corner. They were halfway down the alley. I couldn't help myself bursting into laughter. A chair was brought forward for Hamza to sit in we all stood around talking. Hamza must have been wondering where the TV crews were. As he got up they came round the corner. The other guy, Paul Davies I think his name is pushed himself up as close to Hamza as he could get waving the files in his hand.

" These F.B.I. files say that you recruited for Al Qaida. " For a change the police had decided to get between Islamists and media people.

With the police right there things got really strange. I didn't hear what the policeman said.

I heard Paul answer " He is he's making one. (A statement)

A few people were shouting " All lies! All crap! "

Hamza said, " Do you believe the F.B.I. yourself? Come on. "

Again I didn't hear what the policeman said but the short angry guy shouted, " What do you want me to do fly? Do your job! "

I never got a good vibe from this guy even when I had tried to talk the police out of arresting him. He was by far the angriest Muslim I had met in Finsbury Park at any time. Christopher Peacock chose to stay well out of the frame. Chicken! I was sick of this. I wondered how anyone could take it seriously. The F.B.I with a budget of millions accuses from America, do we get F.B.I agents here at Finsbury Park to arrest Hamza? Or even wave files for themselves? Do the British police want to arrest him? So who do we get doing the F.B.I's business? Paul fucking Davies from ITN.

After meeting Christopher, Colin Baker and Gillian Joseph, I no longer felt that the media was controlled. I thought these guys honestly reflected the views of the majority, and I was in the minority. I'm sure Paul felt he was just doing his job too, but I could see how to any Islamist he was here as a representative of the F.B.I. I was pissed off with everyone. I had thought for a while that everyone was playing up to their roles of who they expected to find. Media were finding terrorists, Islamists were finding evil Zionist media, noone was looking for a peaceful solution anywhere. I wondered what God would thing of it all. He, or she seemed a long way away from here. I thought as it was open season on kangaroo's in Britain's most famous kangaroo court I would have a go at a bit of bouncing myself.

" The British government have been talking for years to people they accuse of terrorism in Northern Ireland. Have they been talking to you about peace in this country? " I asked.

Hamza said something about the British government and the Zionists liking I.R.A. terrorists. I asked him if David Blunkett had ever spoken to him personally.

" I wouldn't speak to him."

They got Hamza into a car and were putting newspapers in front of the windscreen to block cameras. One of the TV cameramen clocked the short angry guy on the head with his camera for which he wanted him arrested for assault.

" So are you going to clear this up? " asked Smith

" This is a cowboys court, get the people in a proper court. Where are your weapons of mass destruction? Come on." said Hamza.

" A kangaroo court." interjected the short guy. " You've got a liar as a prime minister, a fanatic as a president of America, don't expect us to comment on a bunch of jokers. And you work for them. "

I started throwing a few things in just to try and get them talking to me. I remember thinking that I was unsure if I was trying to make comedy or serious documentary.

" Why don't you go and find that butcher Putin. " Ah, it was true Vladimir Putin was in the country talking to Blair. " Three days now he's been in this country go and talk to him. "

G. was doing a great job filming, and didn't smell of alcohol too much but was being pushed back the same as every other camera.

" Brothers we need to have discipline! Brothers back off! Let the Police do their job. " Mr. Abdullah was shouting.

I noticed how he had always been a calming influence on the media scrums. On the weeks he wasn't there things were much more out of control.

" He wants to leave now so if you can all move out of the way the vehicle can leave." The policeman sounded like a teacher in a playground.

There was more pandemonium, G. was trying to film. One of the masked guys who had never spoken to me turned to me and said

" You know we're not terrorists don't you? " I just put my hand on his shoulder.

The short guy was really angry. I tried to ask them all if they wanted to go to the Sun newspaper to talk to them. I thought this would be great for my film. The short guy went on

" You've seen the behavior of the nice, neutral British Police, when Mr. Abdullah was preaching, one of them came up to me and said. He is on the verge of making a homophobic statement. But all the Police were blind dumb and stupid when we were assaulted by cameramen. "

Mr. Abdullah pulled him back and started talking to me. I looked for G. shouting to him to come and film, the guy who was stalling him saw I was talking to Mr. Abdullah and let him past.

" These are the police who are implementing man made laws to suppress their fellow human beings. "

" Police? The prime ministers pimps. " Interjected the short guy.

" But we've got the best Police force in the world though, haven't we? Compared to other countries. " I answered. In all the time I had been there I had only seen police being polite to them, closing the road for them, individual Policemen would sometimes be making conversation with Islamists, mask or no mask to ease tension. None of them wanted to be on TV or to arrest anyone if they could possibly help it.

" Yes, compared to other countries, we have the best police in the world but at the end of the day its all rubbish because they want to sit and accept man made laws but not Gods laws. At the end of the day a homosexual, a paedophile, everyone else has got rights. When it comes to a Muslim, charge him with terrorism act 2000 if he preaches what's in the Koran, that's a threat to society, and he'd locked up with no trial, but a paedophile, a murderer, everyone else, goes to prison, for a short time, and they come out and do it again. What kind of justice? There needs to be balance. At the moment these Zionist Jews that are running your country, and America and most of Europe, there is no justice for a Muslim. There's justice for Hindu's Sikh's everyone else but there is no rights for a Muslim. At the end of the day they have to do what they have to do, we have to do what we have to do. They can physically torture us but they can never touch what is in our hearts. "

He continued

" These governments are continuing strutting their stuff like they have in Afghanistan, and Pakistan, next will be Iran after that its Syria then Somali and after Somalia they are going to starve Turkey. They are not strong enough to attack Turkey but in five or six years time they will attack Turkey. These are the plans of the Pajan. "

My all time favorite Muslim on the scene was an old guy with a great smile who was always with Mr. Abdullah. His name was Hajj. He interjected

" You want to know the honest truth? You know David Ike? Go and get his latest book. "

Mr. Abdullah had calmed down a bit and left saying that it was nice talking to us.

I watched Christopher Peacocks report and laughed when he said they got out of the way due to respect for Friday prayers. I got the feeling most British people would agree with his take on things. I laughed at another episode of how Hamza, through the TV been turned into a cartoon celebrity. G. and I reviewed what we had on camera.

" I did all that! and without even having a drink first! said G.

It was just what I was after. We had fun, had a completely different take than the mainstream news, coming from and proud of, a distinctly different part of British society, and we managed to document what a British fundamental Islamist actually thought. I was surprised again at the Icke reference, as I knew David Icke wasn't a Muslim. I wondered how he would feel about having Abu Hamza's friends quoting him.

I felt I had learnt a lot more, from first hand than I had watching TV or reading the Sun. Finsbury park mosque, on the street has become like no other mosque in the world. It gave me a snapshot of how Muslims must be feeling worldwide. Although I knew the police in Finsbury Park seemed fair, I wondered about this catch all terrorism act 2000 and how it must feel as a Muslim to be at risk of arrest from it.

The overall feeling I got was of a people longing for a religious homeland. Christians claim Britain is a Christian country because the Queen goes to church. Afghanistan was the only religious Muslim country and as such attracted Muslims who believed in the fundamentals of their religion from all over the world. Were they training for terrorism? Or war? How much similarity has this with Ireland?

If we are going to globalize isn't sorting this sort of thing what globalization is for? Is Mo Mowlam's obvious talent for this sitting idle?I could see these people felt they were at war. With apostate governments in Muslim countries, with the Russian government who were attacking Muslims in Chechnya, and now the Allies who attacked Muslims in Iraq and Afghanistan. It wasn't a war for oil, but a holy war where they felt they were justified, even compelled to be involved in by God.

home