Yesterday witness to a weird incident.
Walking in a street in Amsterdam allowed for pedestrians only.
Two young boys disrespected this rule and drove on a bike.
They passed by while in view was a beautiful blonde white girl approaching.
They drove towards her.
Very close to her the boy, sitting on the back of the bike, spread his left arm and while passing the girl hit her in the face.
The girl screamed.
The boys continued their ride but at a higher speed.
So that nobody could catch them.
The girl, now next to the pioneering photographer, had her hand on her face and was in pain.
What to do?
No chance to run after the boys on the bike, overtake them and rock their balls.
There was a short conversation with the girl but she needed no help.
She was not seriously wounded: it was more that she was in shock.
Several persons had seen what had happened.
And all were amazed and indignant.
At the same time, there was a reluctance.
A passivity and lack of revolt.
Why would these boys do such a thing?
Something the fervent and loyal blog reader should know is that the two boys on the bike were Dutch Moroccans boys.
Their family originally came from Morocco, a country in the northwest of Africa.
They came to the Netherlands because in their own country no money could be made while in Europe they could find plenty of work.
Many of the Moroccans remained in Europe and therefore large communities can be found in Spain, France and Holland.
These young Moroccans are the second generation.
They live in two cultures: at home it is the Muslim religion and the Moroccan traditions.
While outside their home it is the liberal society of the Netherlands.
Many of these young Moroccans revolt.
They feel lost.
Because they don’t really belong to the Moroccan culture and religion anymore while they have not fully integrated in the Dutch society.
They are in between and that is bad territory.
That makes them do bad things.
In a city like Amsterdam these young Moroccan boys, lost and out of control, can easily be noticed.
They ride hip hop scooters, have their heads shaved in a specific way and wear jackets with imitation fur around the neck.
And they are never alone: always in a group.
Another characteristic is that they are loud.
Provoking, agressive, violent, arrogant, intolerant, discriminating.
For them to hit in a cowardice way a white, blonde girl in the face is fun.
And that everybody who sees this hates Moroccan boys even more is no problem to them.
They want to be hated.
Because they hate themselves.