Two Middle Eastern mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate oftabouli and a pint of goat's milk. The older of the mothers pulls a bagout of her purse and starts flipping through photos. And they startreminiscing. 'This is my oldest son Mohammed. He would be 24 years old now.' 'Yes, I remember him as a baby' says the other mother cheerfully. 'He's a martyr now though' mum confides. 'Oh, so sad dear' says the other. And this is my second son Kalid. He would be 21' 'Oh, I remember him,' says the other happily, 'he had such curly hair whenhe was born'. 'He's a martyr too' says mum quietly. 'Oh, gracious me ...' Says the other. 'And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Achmed. He would be 18,she whispers. 'Yes' says the friend enthusiastically, 'I remember when hefirst started school' 'He's a martyr also,' says mum, with tears in hereyes. After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wi****lly atthe photographs and says... 'They blow up so fast, don't they?'