He was a mountain of a man with a warm heart. My friend Abu Osama al-Maghribi was someone who spoke little, was always quiet, rarely spent time in groups and preferred being alone. His happiness was the Koran. It was almost as if he and God had a secret unto themselves.
He came from Tangier, in the north of Morocco. He was a young man, 26 years old and in the prime of life. Together with his father he ran a restaurant that brought in an income of not less than $3,000 a month. He bought a piece of land and got married, though he never had a son. That was six years before he served the Jihad.
He couldn’t stand reading about the honor of jihad and then do nothing himself. That is why he decided to fight on one of the most honorable battlegrounds. He knew nobody who could bring him there, no companion who could accompany him and help him. He sold his piece of land, bought a ticket for an Arab country and was on his way.
He arrived in an Arab country, but knew nobody there. He kept going from mosque to mosque, praying more and more for God to show him the way to jihad. One day he heard a few young men speaking in his dialect and got to know them. From what they were talking about, he deduced they were mujahedeen, or at least on the way there. Together with them, he managed to get to the "land of two rivers" (editor's note: Iraq). The leader of the group was Abu Khabbab al-Filastini, and may God accept this heroic martyr. His story will continue to be told in the afterlife.
The group reached my house. On one of the best nights of my life, we sat together and talked about pledges of loyalty including that of the Prophet’s companion, Akrama bin Abi Jahl, who, in the battle of Yarmuk, pledged loyalty to the death. We held hands and promised each other loyalty to the death and for jihad on the path of God. Then came the time of death and we were asked to attack the United Nations building. (editor's note: The fact that this report is also on the web page of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi indicates that though they may have started independently, their orders likely came from Iraq ’s al-Qaida chief.)
The United Nations building had already been attacked a month before, but work continued and the employees stayed on. There were about 100 people. We went over the plan once again: the type of attack, the type of car that would be used, the amount of bomb material necessary, the routes that were furthest away from the security authorities, and so on.
Abu Osama was the master planner and was the one pushing for the attack to happen quickly. He asked us to call his family. His mother told us he had become the father of a son who was baptized Osama, as a symbol for the Sunni community and the organization named after bin
Laden.
I went to the house where Abu Osama stayed. I had the operation and details of the plan in my head. I told him in a private conversation that he had been chosen for the attack. He was very happy, laughed and asked that this should at first stay a secret between him and me. Then we sat with the other brothers.
(…)The day finally arrived. I took him to my house, so that he could spend the night before the attack alone, away from his companions. He
began to pray and to cry. I sat behind and was happy. At two in the morning I told him to sleep a little, and he did. I couldn’t sleep, but watched his face and, by God, it was more beautiful than the moon because of his happiness. I took a pen and wrote down the following lines. (…)
It was agreed that in the morning I would leave with him to observe the target one more time and to see if something had changed. As he saw the target, we saw that the enemy had set up a significant barricade. "Will that keep you from going ahead?" I asked him. "No," he said. "I will, God willing, overcome it with ease."
I continually reminded him of God and the fact that this was the moment of victory, in order to give him strength. He knew that I wanted him to say something to me, in order to strengthen me. What he said next as worth
its weight in gold: "O Sheik, were death that rock over there" and he pointed to a rock ahead of us, "And I wasn’t able to reach it save for that I crawled across the ground to it, then, by God, I would do it. Be at peace!"
He went back, got his car and drove in front of me. I drove behind him in my car. He swerved back and forth between cars as though it was a race and he wanted to be the winner. I couldn’t follow him. Then I broke down and wept many tears. I stopped my car and watched as he distanced himself from me and got closer to the target, in order to hit its heart and rip out the hearts of the criminals inside.
Then I suddenly saw how columns of fire reached upwards towards the heavens, at least 20 meters high, accompanied by a deafening noise. Fifty infidels died in the attacks - may God have mercy on you Abu Osama! (editor's note: the actual death toll was far lower, with only one Iraqi officer and the suicide bomber dying.)
Only this remains to be said: Abu Osama paid for everything himself, from the car that he used to his own pocket money. He came with his own money and left nothing behind and that is an especially exquisite type of martyrdom.
As a result of this operation, the United Nations resolved to leave the land of two rivers permanently. (editor's note: The UN did, in fact, significantly reduce its presence following this, the second attack within five weeks.)
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