When school finished for the day, he worked at an institution for people with disabilities. He was popular with both colleagues and those in his care, more for his ability to entertain than his hard work. When the time came to make plans for life after school, a guidance counselor suggested that since he had enjoyed his time working at the institution, he should consider qualifying as a social worker and take a degree in health and social work.
“Society needs competent social workers who understand how mental and social problems arise and how to offer help in a professional manner,” read the description of the social worker degree. Despite his appalling grades, he was accepted by Volda University College.
Volda is a beautiful spot, situated by a fjord, with houses spreading up the mountainside. When the summer sun shines, the sea and landscape glitter in blue and green, against a backdrop of sharply outlined snow-covered peaks reaching skyward. Perfect for everything he enjoyed—mountain hikes, fishing trips, and grouse hunts.
But autumn came and things turned gray, cold, and gradually black. The safe surroundings of secondary school were gone, he was not prepared for further studies, still barely able to write in Norwegian.
His roommates in the student block noticed that he sequestered himself with a book. But it was not a course book he was absorbed in. It was the Koran.
Before the first semester came to an end, he had dropped out. On returning to Oslo, he got a job as a parking lot attendant. One of his colleagues was Ubaydullah Hussain.
* * *
In late winter 2012, Tor Bach of Wild X received a call from Hisham. They had not seen each other in three or four years, and Bach was pleasantly surprised to hear from his former hiking companion.
“It’s been ages!” he said, and told him to drop by.
Tor Bach was a sturdy fellow, open and nonjudgmental. He was also behind a left-leaning website called the Wasp, which had as its stated goal to engage in “investigative journalism about violent, racist, totalitarian and anti-democratic groups and milieus.” His eyes widened when the pike fisherman, as they had called Hisham in Wild X, came in with three pals, all bearded, as jihadist fashion required.
The last time he had seen Hisham, he was a slight teenager. Now he was pumped up from lifting weights.
“You look like al-Shabaab!” Tor Bach chuckled.
His comment did not raise even the hint of a smile from Hisham. Wannabe jihadists displayed a total lack of self-irony, Bach thought.
There was hardness in Hisham’s eyes, or was he just putting on a tough guy act? What had happened? He remembered that Hisham had a penchant at times for some pretty bizarre conspiracy theories, but this…?
The stern-faced visitors wasted no time on small talk and got right down to business. They wanted places in the hunting course.
Bach was silent. He looked at them, hesitating before enumerating the practical details. First there were classes in theory, nine in total, three evenings a week for three weeks. The title of the first class was Humane Hunting and Ethics. After that was Practical Shooting and Hunting Techniques. They would learn rules and regulations, animal species, and weapon safety. They would be taught about the different breeds of hunting dog and given an introduction on how to deal with downed game. After the courses, they could take the official hunting license test arranged by the local authorities.
Passing the exam granted a firearms license.
“When does the course start?” Hisham asked.
When the three Islamists had left, Bach called PST.
“We can’t stop anyone from taking the hunting exam course as long as they haven’t committed any crime,” the police told him. “But we will keep an eye on them.”
The answer did not put Tor Bach’s mind at ease.
* * *
Bach registered their enrollment. The course started. Hisham and his friends were a lot more interested in weapons than in grouse and deer. One of the other participants told Bach he had overheard the bearded guys talking about hunting Yahud—Jews.
By the time the theoretical element was completed, Easter was over and the spring sun had melted the snow. It was time for shooting practice at a firing range. Tor Bach took everyone by the hand and informed them of the rules. The course participants were then allowed to start shooting.
“Allahu Akbar!” Hisham and the others called out when they hit the target.
Tor Bach stood silently and watched. On the other side of the fence was a white car with two men inside. It was the PST observing and taking photographs.
The date for the exam was approaching. What the hell was he supposed to do?
He called PST again.
“We can’t intervene and we can’t stop them from taking the exam,” was the response.
But Tor Bach could. He broke the adult education laws and neglected to enroll them. When Hisham got in touch to ask when they could take the exam, he told him, “There’s something wrong here. I don’t get it, but I can’t seem to put your names down.”
Hisham called him up again, angrier this time. “What’s going on?! When is the exam?”
Tor Bach told him he didn’t have the foggiest clue, but the system refused to let him register their names.
“Could it possibly be due to a criminal record of some kind?” Bach asked.
Hisham did not make contact again.
* * *
Hisham’s wife was at home, nearing the end of her pregnancy. The child was due in December.
The couple disagreed about where they should live. Hisham believed it was haram to reside in a non-Muslim country. He wanted to travel to Syria and outlined a life in prayer and battle, in loyalty to God on sacred soil. He wanted them to go together, have the child there, and live
