I turned and saw a cleric approaching us. He wore a long black flowing robes and white turban.

“Harlot! Whore!” he cried in Arabic as he approached. “Is this the way you honor your parents? Is this the way you honor Islam?” Rashida stepped away from me and cast her gaze to the ground. She seemed to shrink in stature as this wild eyed man continued to hurl abuse.

I stepped in between them and was getting ready to throw a punch, when the security detail surrounded the man and lead him away.

“Who the hell was that?” I asked to no one in particular.

“My Imam,” said Rashida in a small voice.

“Well how did he get in here?” I asked.

“He was invited,” said a voice behind me.

I turned and saw Deputy governor Zuehb bin Juthamah. If President of Iran Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has a twin brother, this guy must be it.

“Imam Nabeel Sharafat is an honored guest of the governor. Unfortunately he can become excitable in his religious zeal.”

I felt Rashidas hand touch my arm.

“John, I’d like to go home now.”