I stored my distance from the unbelievers till somebody prayed for my household.

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How a Persian Gulf son met the son of God in a strange new place.

My story begins in the Persian Gulf region, where my tribe raised me as a devoted Muslim. When I was a child, my father woke me at 5 a.m. so we could attend morning prayers in the mosque. I sat with my uncles every day to read and study the Koran. When I was 10 I had memorized most of the book because my family members gave me $ 100 for every chapter I could recite.

During my childhood and youth I did my obligatory prayers in the mosque and even woke up every night to pray for an hour. I was proud to be so jealous of my belief. I wanted to receive God's blessing and favor, as well as my family's esteem.

The first big turning point in my life was when my family moved to an English-speaking country. I hated this place. We didn't get rich anymore, but had to split a two-bedroom apartment into six family members. Hardly anyone shared our beliefs or our culture. I remember talking to my grandmother who warned me: “Be careful with the unbelievers and don't become friends or connect with them; They are an illness for society. "

At school, I formed an Islamic group that worked aggressively to adapt everyone around us to our religion. We demand that the school only serve halal food. During Ramadan, we forced other students to pray with us. Once …

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