Zawji’s Birthday 2016

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Ma Bebies!

OMG! My life is so amazing.

Let me go back to the day I was hospitalized.

Ever since 2014 when I first became homeless, I’ve been meeting Brothers who are my Zawji’s doppelgangers. We connect on one level or another but I can never hook up with them because they are not him. However, I know that his desire is to take me away from someone. I’ve been vehemently opposed to this plan but he and Allah are the Best Planners and despite my opposition I have finally “hooked up” with one of his most attractive and sweet doppelgangers. It is going to be interesting to see how this plays out. Especially considering tomorrow is a special day. Allah, Master Fard Muhammad, to Whom Praises are due forever, plans monumental events to occur on specific dates.

For instance, he timed the day of His Coming to deliver us to coincide with our slavemasters’ biggest day of celebrating – July 4. Another example is the date of the passing of our Beloved Messenger – the day before Saviour’s Day – February 25.

So, despite the fact that in The Nation of Islam we do not celebrate birthdays, there is a special significance to dates.

Tomorrow is my Zawji’s birthday.

I was discharged from the hospital earlier today and had no idea what Allah Had Planned for me.

On the day I came to the hospital, I was experiencing some strong spiritual warfare from the place and people where I lived. I was literally driven out of the house in the wee hours of the morning.

I had been, for about two weeks, rising up before sunrise (as is customary for Muslims) and after making Salat (prayer), I would sit outside my house and view the Shurook (sunrise). This particular day, my roommates decided to come outside and disrupt my revelrie.

I was not able to sit out and enjoy the Shurook, undisturbed, as I had been doing for weeks.

I ended up in the parking lot of the neighboring CVS and just walking around in my own world.

Medications are probably a billion dollar industry in America and I watched, as I have on many occasions, the huge 18 wheeler truck come and deliver boxes and boxes of medication to the CVS.

Then I watched, as I have every morning, the smaller truck deliver boxes and boxes of alcoholic beverages.

This really disturbed me. America is so wicked, adults think they are not living unless they smoke and drink. Everyone in America takes some type of drug. Whether it is pharmaceutical, alcoholic, narcotic, carcinogenic, marijuana, meth, vapes or whatnot. Life in America is so hard to take that one must drink or smoke just in order to cope.

Why not get high on life – Just LIVING!?!?!? I am probably the ONLY person I know who does not smoke or drink. But I have psychotic episodes that leave me hospitalized where  I am FORCED to take antispychotic medications, against my will.

Allah is justified in bringing about an end to wicked America where drugs and drinking are the order of the day and one is hard-pressed to live without them.

But I digress.

This alcohol truck was making its daily delivery and something drew me into the store.

I am the person who is known for taking the road less traveled. And I was drawn to an emergency exit in the back which I used to exit the store. No alarm went off but I found myself on the outside of the store and there I saw a Brother whom I had seen just prior to my entering the store.

As usual, when I see one of my Zawji’s doppelgangers, I began following him.

He went into the Family Dollar across the street and asked me to watch his backpack, which the store manager told him he had to leave in the front of the store. I willingly obliged.

He made his purchases and we left. I followed him to his house. He dropped off his purchases and we began conversing.

He told me he was headed uptown and I said, “Let’s go.”

We walked through beautiful historic New Orleans, through Louis Armstrong Park and took a rest at the main Library, where several people were waiting for it to open.

I was nervous because I had stolen a book there that was not even supposed to be checked out and was afraid that I was going to be detained.

However, we entered the library. He relieved himself and we exited uneventfully.

We continued our trek from downtown to uptown and reached a destination under the freeway where he positioned a crate and provided me with a cushion to sit on while he began panhandling. I watched his form and became more and more enamored. When I noticed him becoming fatigued, I took the sign and gave him the seat.

I immediately, handed over every donation of food or money and when he gave the signal, we resumed our trek deeper into uptown New Orleans.

We reached a location where there were more people panhandling and he began a conversation with one of the Brothers sitting on the sideline. I am still enamored with the New Orleans accent and I like to just earhustle. But sometimes I actually listen to the topic of the conversation.

Apparently, the Brother with whom he was conversing, was being shorted on his opportunity to panhandle. He was next in line, but the white devil woman who was currently panhandling was not giving him his turn. I went and said something to her and he was able to have his turn.

I bet you didn’t know conditions in America were so bad that people have to wait in line to panhandle!

So, anyway, we took turns there too.

But, I was a little too enthusiastic and got caught up tapping on people’s car windows, despite warnings not to do so.

I kept thinking of the Aretha Franklin performance of “Til you come back to me” when she say’s “I’m gonna tap on your window pane” and she makes the tapping motion. So, I kept tapping on people’s windows thinking about one of my musical sheroes.

Next thing I know, I turn around and he’s talking to a police officer sitting in his car. I knew he was talking about me, so I saunter over to the police officer, daring him to take me to jail.

Two more police cars pull up and the officers get out. I gave him a fake social security number but he still found me in the system. We managed to get away with just citations. Of course, I threw mine away. He told me today, he went and they threw it out. I was in the hospital, but I didn’t think the court date would be so soon. It’s only been two weeks. I was just happy to not have to go to jail.

We left after that.

He smokes and if I knew any better I would have left him as soon as I found that out. But I think men need to smoke sometimes, or used to need to smoke to do some spiritual stuff. So, I wasn’t tripping. But we are living in the bright spiritual light of Allah and He Has Done away with all those old practices. We can do the same thing, achieve the same results, without having to smoke. Allahu Akbar! Allah is the Greatest! But he is just a doppel, so I tolerate it.

We walked back through Central City and while we waited for the streetcar, he rolled a blunt. I didn’t trip off of that either.

So, the streetcar comes and we board. This was going to be my maiden voyage on the new streetcar that they just built that takes me right by where I used to live and now where I currently live (his house).

Unfortunately, right when we get to the main highway that the new streetcar was supposed to go down, it went off the track right in the intersection. We ended up having to alight and take the bus. I was able to take it today though!

So we get of the bus and take the short walk to his house and I’ve seen inside these three hundred year old houses before but it never dawned on me that they are actually shotgun houses. I mean I used to think a shotgun house was just a house that you could go from the front door to the backdoor without making any turns. But these houses are a rectangle divided into sections. You literally have to go through every room in the house to get to the back. No hallways. Just straight through everyroom. And I couldn’t take it. You walk in the front door and you’re in the living room. Go through a door and you’re in the bedroom. Next door, his brother’s bedroom, next door, another smaller room, to the right the bathroom, the left, the kitchen and that’s the whole house.

The backyard looks like a forest though. So creepy! But so fun! 😀

Now, you know how much I love New Orleans, and I am immensely blessed to be able to get the real New Orleans experience, living in one of these beautiful, charismatic houses, but I need my privacy and the thought that his Brother could be right there with us, was a bit overwhelming.

So, when his phone rang and he took me on a walk through the neighborhood, we ended up being separated and I told him I would meet him back at the house.

I was sitting on the porch, mentally deliberating, oh wait, I forgot to tell you, we went back to my house and I got all my stuff. I was already packed because, I had planned to move to NYC that day. I had my ticket and everything. But I don’t know if somebody put “roots” on me or what, but for some reason, I decided to stay in NOLA.

So, we got my stuff and took it back to his house.

But while I was waiting for him to meet me back at his house, I got anxious and started walking down the street. I ended up sitting on somebody’s upstairs porch and this incredibly hypnotic Brother and his white friend showed up and coerced me into their car and they took me to the hospital.

I had no idea about my belongings. I had left my wallet (ATM card, ID), my iphone, my laptop, my only other change of clothes, my Holy Qur-an, my Message to the Blackman and my jounal!

So, for the past two weeks, while I was in the hospital, my life was completely in limbo with this amazingly similar to my Zawji, Brother who was in possession of my life.

Fortunately, the hospital said I could use their address to have another ATM card sent to me, just in case, and they had a copy of my ID on file from when I was hospitalized there last year, so I wasn’t really worried.

Worst case scenario,  I would have to hide out in my cubby hole, steal food and just wait for a new card to arrive.

MY plan upon my discharge, was to go back to his house, see if he still had my stuff, get it, go to the library, print out a ticket to Miami and be en route on Zawji’s birthday tomorrow.

Keep in mind, I met Our Saviour, Master Fard Muhammad, on a Greyhound bus on another significant date (February 27), so I was really expectant that something amazing would happen tomorrow.

The hospital said they couldn’t discharge me to an unknown address (I didn’t have his address, I just knew how to get there) so they called a cab to take me to the shelter. Why did the cab driver ask to take my picture? (Happens all the time. So, I obliged 🙂 )

I ended up revisiting the places where we panhandled, looking for him, just in case, he was there and not at home, so I wouldn’t have to backtrack.

And I got to finally see the Convention Center, where all that Hurricane Katrina stuff happened. There is no sign of it there now. That is the only Convention Center I’ve seen except L.A.’s. It was nicer than ours. Newer and bigger, I think. I wanted to see what was on the OTHER side because I knew the river was back there. I walked all the way to the end and saw “Mardi Gras World” but I got a bad feeling about it, (I have a healthy fear of Mardi Gras) so I turned around and went back toward the French Quarter.

I finally got to go to the Riverwalk Mall or whatever it’s called and came up on  some beautiful satin gloves with pearl accents that I really needed because I lost my other ones.

So anyway, here I am with my Zawji’s doppelganger, not knowing what’s in store, but just trying to stay chaste and not make him mad and kick me out. If that happens, I’ll just go to Miami, which was MY original plan anyway.

But I submit to the Will of Allah and I know I’m where He and Zawji Want me.

So, Jamal, my Love, you get your wish.  I couldn’t do it in L.A. because that doppel didn’t have his own place. I need food, clothes and shelter. And I’ve got that with this one, in this beautiful, wonderful, incredibly jazzy city, with so much personality and the best accents in the world! Allahu Akbar!

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum!

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