Ah Lubs Dat Man!!!

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Ma Black Bebies!

So, you know I’m quite the Black Historian.

Well, I’m also into film production.

And, if you combine the two

You Get

Oscar Micheaux

Brother Oscar was the first Blackman to produce a full-length feature film.

He was born in 1884 in Illinois.

Moved to Chicago when he was seventeen and worked several jobs including a Pullman Porter.

*Side note – As a Black historian, I’ve heard of the “Pullman Porters” on SEVERAL occasions. I just wrote about “Emperor Jones“, wherein the lead character goes off to be a Pullman Porter and what a joyous occasion it is. But I had no idea it was just a continuation of slavery. This pissed me off. I see it in New Orleans. One day I was in The French Quarter and I went in a bar to get some water and those full grown Black men were doing nothing but serving devils and looking at me crazy. I will be so glad to see the day when the Blackman figures out he can work for himself. He doesn’t have to be a servant any longer. Please Read MESSAGE TO THE BLACKMAN IN AMERICA and get a clue.

But back to Brother Oscar…

Sometime in the beginning of the twentieth century, he moved to South Dakota and started homesteading. I’m a country girl at heart and one day would like to own my own farm. So, you know I’ve heard of homesteading but wasn’t completely sure of what it is. So, I YT’d it and basically, I think it’s just farming but on a smaller level. Like just for your own family as opposed to producing one or more types of crops to sell to make money (cash crops). You just produce what you need for your family. At least that’s what it is now.

Back then, it was this.
(This pissed me off too because they know they were supposed to give us our forty acres and mule upon emancipation but instead, they decide they’re going to give EVERYBODY the opportunity to own land and offer it for “low prices” which was still too much for the newly freed slaves. So we still end up with nothing! And have to suffer the humiliation of watching other people get the land that was designated for us! They STILL do that. Show me something that is Just For Black People! I’ll wait. Wasn’t NOBODY in this country slaves but Black People but we can’t get no type of retribution that’s just for us!!! See how they do us????!!!!!! I’m still waiting. Leave a comment. :/ )

So anyway, on a personal sidenote, one day I would like to own a farmhouse with a lake or creek or some type of body of water in the backyard or somewhere, with a yellow cow and some laying hens, a cat or two or three or four or more and an apiary. So I can have an endless supply of milk and honey and C.R.E.A.M.!!!!


(Shout out to Mister Mef with the jail-issued toothbrush LOL)
(I swear it seems like I watch this video at least once a month. I really love CREAM! 😉 )

BUT

Anyway, while Brother Oscar was homesteading he started writing. He self-published an autobiographical novel in 1913, entitled The Conquest, The Story of A Negro Pioneer which I think is gonna piss me off because he had an affair with a devil and he probably put it in the novel. He also wrote articles that were published in the Chicago Defender Newspaper.

In 1915, he moved to Sioux City, Iowa after a drought caused him to lose his land OR his wife ran off with his money and her father sold his land and kept the money while he was away. (I’ve heard both :/ )

In 1917 he established his own publishing company: The Western Book Supply Company and wrote two more books: 1915’s The Forged Note and 1917’s sequel to The ConquestThe Homesteader. He also wrote four more books (The Wind From Nowhere, The Case Of Mrs. Wingate, The Story of Dorothy Stanfield and The Masquerade) in the forties, shortly before his death. I can’t find any links for these last four. Sorry. I looked.

In 1918, Brother Oscar was approached by The Lincoln Motion Picture Company – an all-Black film production company – that was the first to produce films portraying Black people in non-stereotypical but rather, wholesome and morally upright roles – who wanted to produce a film version of his book, The Homesteader but they would not agree to Brother Oscar’s terms that he be allowed to direct the film nor the amount of money allocated to produce the film.

So Brother Oscar sold stock in his NEW company The Micheaux Film & Book Company and produced the film himself.

It premiered in Chicago, a hub of Black life in America at the time, in February 1919.

Our Brother Oscar Micheaux went on to produce over forty films. I happened to watch two of them (finally 😉 ) today on YouTube. I wasn’t sure I was going to like the first one because it was entitled, “Lying Lips” and I thought the morality and integrity of the players would be questionable. But I really dug it!

I was not expecting it to be so heavily based on music, so that was a very pleasant surprise.

I also enjoyed the romance. They did it in such a way that was so sweet and not embarrassing like movies today.

The only thing I disagreed with was that leading lady gave her husband all her money and was willing to let him determine what to do with it.

Her original intention was to just help him out (take care of him) but after he got back on his feet, she STILL gave him her money. Which is just plain stupid. She should have quit her job, homemade (you know I coin terms 😉 ), let him take care of her and lived happily ever after.

The second one I watched was equally modest but with an added twist that made me feel like I could have written the script.

It echoed the themes that I repeat, ad nauseum, in this blog.

Anti-feminism, male/female roles, and the actual fact that when we are born we are born one-half of a soul and our other half is out there somewhere. We just have to be PATIENT and KEEP CHASTE and wait for Allah to make him/her manifest.

Moses

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

harriet_tubmanandfamily1885

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Ma Beautiful and Beloved Asiatic Aboriginal Black Bebies!!!

So, I came in the library yesterday and they recently re-opened The Black History Section and so they are featuring books by and about Black people and I happened upon this book about Sister Harriet.

But, I’m not big on biographies, so I looked first at the references and sources for the biography and learned that there was a woman who had actually interviewed our Dear Courageous Sister and compiled THREE biographies based on stories told her directly from the mouth of Sister Harriet.

So, you know I had to look for it online

And I just finished the first one.

It verified a lot of stories and quotes I had heard about but it was enlightening to hear the tales direct from Sister Harriet.

She was funny too.

She told the story of how she just happened to arrive on the day before her father was scheduled to go on trial for aiding a fugitive slave and in her words she, “saved dem de expense ob de trial” LOL

It was also fascinating to learn about her years working during the Civil War.

I didn’t know that much about that portion of her life.

It also put great emphasis on her unwavering love for Black People.

Which made me feel really special because my Grandfather nicknamed me
“Grandma Moses” when I was still a child.

And I think my love for Black People and Allah (God)
Is just as strong or stronger than Sister Harriet’s.

Al Hamdulillah!

She was still living when the book was written.

wanteddoa

(Yes, that’s $40,000.00.)
(The equivalent of $1,091,200.00 today)

The end was a little monotonous with the author going on and on about how wicked Southern devil women were compared to Northern devil women. :/

Now, I’ve read slave narratives wherein they verified that the slave missus was always harder on them than the slavemaster but that was the case whether the fugitive was from the North OR the South and to intimate that the Southern woman was any more wicked than their Sisters up North is preposterous.

She (the biographer) was just trying to make herself feel better.

We know that they are ALL DEVILS.

So, I basically skimmed through that part.

Now, I’m going to look for the Second one.

So, if you’ve finished Message To The Blackman in America….

http://docsouth.unc.edu/neh/bradford/bradford.html

harriet_tubman

Rev. J.W. Loguen – Slave Narrative

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

In the Name of Allah, The Beneficent, The Most Merciful

rev

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Beloved and Beautiful Asiatic Members of the Aboriginal Black Nation in the Wilderness of North America!!!

Thanks, Thanks, Thanks to Our Saviour, MASTER FARD MUHAMMAD, To Whom Praise is Forever Due, for leaving Heaven and Coming to find and deliver us from our heartless and brutal slavemasters who have destroyed us and who now Our Saviour Plans to destroy for their wicked and evil acts of murdering us, the righteous, their poor, harmless and loyal slaves.

Al Hamdulillah!
All Praise is Due to Allah!

Beloved Brothers and Sisters, you may not know this if you are new to my blog, but I am an avid student of Black History, especially that history that pertains to our enslavement in the Hells of North America.

I devour slave narratives, but only those that were written prior to emancipation. Those written after are much more watered down with an emphasis on how grateful the slave is to have been freed. Whereas, the ones written by fugitive slaves emphasize the cruel conditions which forced them to take their lives into their own hands and seek freedom on some of this good earth – live or die.

I was on Facebook looking at some posts I had made “on this day” a year ago and came across the following narrative which I had never made time to read.

Well, I started reading it and it blew me away. The memoirs that can only be transferred to us by one who has actually experienced the horror of slavery are a must for our and future generations.

We can never forget the history of this Nation lest we be the worst losers. It puts into crystal clear perspective the harsh treatment we are still receiving at the brutal hands of our slavemaster’s children and I cannot overemphasize the necessity of educating our children of the murderous activities of the devil Caucasians who forcibly brought our foreparents to this country and among whom we still must live.

Please click here to read the narrative of fugitive slave,
REV. J.W. LOGUEN

download-2

K-12

Bismillah

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum My Bebies!!!

K12.com is a homeschooling website that gives you the benefit of a quality education for your child away from the distractions and detriments that come with public school.

You can educate your child under your own careful supervision with the same curriculum but at your own pace and on your own schedule.

Take your child out of the devils’ school and away from the devils who only invite them to indecency and filth.

And by all means supplement their curriculum with our own Black History!!!

Ask them if they still give out computers!!!

Dr. K

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Ebenezer Baptist Church (Atlanta, Georgia)

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Sisters and Brothers of The Asiatic Black Nation of the Planet Earth

Practically, ever since I alighted in Atlanta, everyone has been asking me if I’ve been to the Dr. King Memorial.

I, actually, had zero interest in going to see anything memorializing integration and the humiliation my people suffered begging in vain for equal rights from our heartless and merciless slavemasters.

But I didn’t have anything to do today. So, someone had told me they have a food giveaway near there on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I thought “What the hell?

So, I was told to take the streetcar from Woodruff Park and ask the conductor where to alight. But, I didn’t have any money (cash) and I have a personal vendetta against paying for public transportation in a country where I pay taxes. So, I decided to put my healthy, strong legs to use and started walking.

It was a little after 8:00 this morning, so there were very few businesses open. And that was exactly how I like it. I get to explore freely without anybody judging and questioning what I’m doing there. I LOVE EXPLORING.

So, I followed the train tracks and livestreamed on FB. You can see the videos (what I got) on my profile. For some inexplicable reason, Allah does not let me videotape when I REALLY want to videotape something. Okay, He Just Let Me Know, He Wants Me To Buy A REAL CAMERA.

I haven’t had one since I videotaped my husband 17 years ago.

I suddenly lost interest. 🙂

❤ ❤ ❤

It’s time tho.

Anyway, my camera kept cutting off and if I’m anything, I’m persistent, so I kept trying.

I was just walking, taking in the sights. I started down Washington ❤ ❤ ❤ (my husband’s last name) since I’ve never gone down that street and saw Georgia State University. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s in the heart of downtown. The buildings look like they could be office buildings. I’ve been to a lot of colleges and universities and I’ve NEVER seen one like this. There is absolutely no continuity. Every other institute of higher learning is located on it’s own plot of land, whereas you know when you’ve entered the campus and you know when you’ve left. This school is scattered all around downtown.

And, the design of this city is also unlike any other city I’ve ever visited. You know the main attraction is Underground Atlanta. Well, not only is this mall underground, but the whole city practically is underground. As I walked, I was underground about fifty percent of the time. It is so unusual. You can enter a building at street level and it looks like there is one floor above it, but if you walk around the side of the building, you’ll see that there are five more floors beneath the surface!!!

America was built by Freemasons and everything is placed where it is for a reason. There is a reason why the founders of Georgia chose Atlanta for the location of their capitol. I have excellent navigational skills and it’s tricky for even me.

So, I was walking and this Brother entered a building right in front of me, so I was like, “Okay”, and I followed him in. There were pictures of Black people at the concert hall across the street from the forties. I love old pictures of Black People and their daily lives. So, I filmed the photos and went through the foyer and the parking lot was on the other side.

These buildings!

I was expecting a reception area and an elevator to take you up to the units. But a parking lot! With lower floors, of course.

So, I’m seeing signs saying “Freedom Walk” identifying historical landmarks and I noticed this building (btw, I still can’t get over all of these brick buildings. I’m from L.A. and the first thing I think about are earthquakes, then I remember Atlanta doesn’t have earthquakes, at least not yet.) So, this building was built in 1913 and was the largest concert hall for Black people in the South. Let me google it. Oh yes, the street was called “SWEET AUBURN” Isn’t that the most delicious sounding street ever???!!!! 😀

I went to a store because I saw these two Brothers standing outside, called Sweet Auburn Groceries. Turns out the Brothers were from New Orleans. I know Allah Wants Me To Go To New Orleans when I leave here. I’m procrastinating calling my landlord telling him, I’m not coming home. He sounded so happy when I called. Allah Makes Me So Unpredictable and Spontaneous. It’s fun for me, but aggravating to people who have to deal with me. :/

Anyway, I go in the building and it was absolutely beautiful. It had a marble floor, walls and staircases. Antiques, stained glass windows of jazz musicians and black artwork. I eased past the security guard and went in the souvenir store. They had Atlanta key chains, but I don’t have any keys. That was the only thing I would have wanted.

Then I was wandering around and found a spot where I could eat the boiled eggs I had bought from the Sweet Auburn Groceries and why was one of them burnt???? 😛 I mean really, have you ever heard of a burnt boiled egg??? LOL I hadn’t but I love eggs and was curious as to how it would taste. It was actually very good, had a “blackened” taste. 😛

I went to Waffle House one morning and ordered a couple of boiled eggs and I know they were trying to be mean and gave them to me undone, but they were O-SO GOOD!!!!!!!

I’m going to make them like that every time I boil them. Think an over-easy yolk in a boiled egg. It was so good!!! I love the warm, runny yolk in over-easy eggs and these were the same thing BUT in a boiled egg. So yummy!!!!

So, I found a storage room with electrical outlets, where I could charge my almost dead phone, so I stayed there about two hours and then came out.

By then, the businesses were open, but I didn’t care, I started videotaping because when I came in, my phone was dead.

So, I’m ignoring the white people working in the building, thinking this is an historical landmark of Black history, just loving it, then this foreign Black lady comes up and starts harassing me. Of course, she didn’t understand being a foreigner, all she cared about was her white master. I thought it was interesting that she was preoccupied with the fact that I was wearing white gloves. I didn’t even know what to say. It’s so ordinary for me.

So, she chased me out and I started videotaping the outside, which was the part SHE told me was the historical part and she kept “bovvering” me (hey Trevor 😛 ) Next thing I know she asks her white master if she could use his camera to videotape me!

So, I HAD to get the Black faces in the outer designs of the building. I really need a real camera because the iphone doesn’t allow you to zoom in. Can you believe that???!!!! That is so frustrating!!!

So, then I go around the corner and cross the street and she’s standing on the corner still videotaping me, so I feel like messing with her now. So, I bumrush her and flip her the bird. But, check this out, there was an open door next to the general entrance, so you know I had to go in.

It was an office building. The ground floor had a Mexican restaurant and I casually walked past the cooks and into the interior of the building. I saw an elevator with the door open so, remembering what had happened at Death Row, I got on. Then I thought about how the building was in repairs and thought better of it. I got back off and took the stairs.

Whenever I enter a new building, I always have to go to the top floor, preferably the roof. So, I climbed the marble stairs six flights up a dimly lit and creepy stairway but when I got to the top floor why was it an old nightclub with a jacuzzi???

It was so dope! I should’ve stayed, but this program I’m in be trippin. Oh yeah, and when I went in the kitchen, I heard a beep and saw a security system, so I broke out. I didn’t want to get caught by the police because I had unknowingly tripped an alarm, and get taken to jail for trespassing like in New Orleans. :/ I’ve got ten more days here, In sha Allah, I can spend them all as a free woman.

But that nightclub was so plush and intimate, AND ON THE ROOF! I was in Heaven! It had a plush decorative rug around a small wooden dance floor. A kitchen that was still partly stacked. There was leather loveseats, I think and another side that I can’t remember what it looks like but there was a beautiful clock that I would have lifted if I had a place to put it. :/ That Jacuzzi was so inviting, reminded me of the time, me and my husband were in the Jacuzzi in Hollywood when the Dungeon Family was in town. ATL!

So, I’m walking and it’s starting to get hot, so I came up on a little corner park with a big statue of M.L.’s face. (That’s what his sister said they used to call Martin Luther King, Jr.) I wanted to sit in the shade though, so I looked around and noticed some parkbenches under some shade trees.

There was a Sister laying down on one, the others were occupied by Brothers. So, I took a seat on the end of the bench where the Sister was laying. She looked up and I just greeted her and started freeing up some data on my phone so, I could take a picture of the statue.

Now, you guys know, I am the most vociferous opponent of the “Sleepytime Down South” mentality by Pops, but stg, that was the most peaceful and relaxing feeling I have ever felt in my life!!!

It was intoxicating. The breeze alone seemed to whisper, “Just sit here a little while...” And the cool of the shade felt so good after walking in the heat of the Sun. I completely understand how one can sit the whole day on a park bench under the shade of a tree. I had to tear myself away, but not after I dallied the first time I felt the urge to move on. I got up the second time.

I don’t think cityfolk will ever understand the feeling unless they feel it for themselves. There was like an unspoken consciousness felt between all of us sitting there. Four of the six of us were sleep. But there was no judgment. It was the natural thing to do.

This white man walked by on the phone, trying to make us feel like we should be working, but nobody paid attention to him. He kept walking and stood inside the empty head of Dr. King. I thought that was symbolic and tried to take a picture, but my camera!!! Argh!!!

So, I saw a streetcar, telling me which direction to travel, so I started walking again. I passed a Black restaurant and it looked busy, but when I tried the door, it was locked. I think they knew I didn’t have any money. At least, that I knew of.

Then I saw an alley with graffiti on the walls and I love Graff, so I entered it and there was a restaurant next door, but I knew it was owned by devils by the music. Allah Told me to sit down even though I didn’t feel like I needed to. I think subconsciously, I just didn’t want to deal with devils. But I must submit to my Maker.

So, uncomfortably I sat down and tried to enjoy the sound of the water from the fountain. It was hotter than when I was standing in the shade. And I hated the music.

Sure enough, I hadn’t been sitting one minute, when this devil woman comes out. I didn’t say anything, then she says can I get you a menu? I said, Okay. But I knew I wasn’t going to order from them. There are too many Black owned businesses I can patronize. So, I got up to leave, and she came out and saw me leaving.

So, I saw a Jamaican restaurant and they had a picture of a meat patty on the window and I love Jamaican food, but those patties taste pasty. I can’t.

Next door to the restaurant was an African Imports store Nyabinghi something, so you know I couldn’t walk by without going in.

There was a Rasta looking elder man and a clearly African-American woman and I could’ve sworn there was a child, but I might be mistaken because when I left there were just those two.

So, I’m looking around and I didn’t like most of the stuff. Too tribal or voodoun, but he had a box of walking sticks. And Allah Told me to pick out this one, so I did. And then the man comes out from this door and told me they were just for decoration. I said, “No, this is for walking.” It was the perfect size for me. I LOVED IT. But I didn’t have any money.

The handle was something like this

But it narrowed down to a very slim and feminine point like this.

Holding that joint felt very right and exact.

I think he felt how the people in NOLA felt about me being a Voodou Queen, because he went by the counter and stood in front of a basket of cowrie shells, very protectively and I could read his mind, “They are money.” Of course, I knew that already.

So, when he finally moved, I started grabbing the shells and letting them slip between my gloved fingers. I asked him where they came from? The beach? He said you have to dig down deep to get them now.

I picked out a couple artificial ones and I know he was impressed.

So, I kept looking around and I saw a basket of crystals, and I was trying to decide which one I should pick up, when I saw something so interesting. I picked it up and it was a beautiful pearlessence shell with an engraving on it. Let me see if I can find a picture. If not I’ll take one, In sha Allah.

Okay, I kinda knew I wouldn’t be able to find a picture. He said they came from the NILE. And I could pick one and have it for myself. He had four. One looked like a hieroglyphic lion, but it was little. I really liked it and almost regret that I didn’t choose that one. The one I chose was of a couple and my name is LOVE, all I ever think about is my Honey-Stick, so you know I chose that one. I forgot what the other two were. Let me try and take a picture.  Okay, I don’t have any space on my iphone.

Allah REALLY WANTS me to buy a REAL CAMERA.

HE IS NOT PLAYING.

The shell is beautiful though. The people have Eurocentric features though. Maybe that’s why He Doesn’t Want Me To Take The Picture.

It has a tiny hole on top so I can make it into a necklace if I will.

So, I happen to notice the tracks turn the corner and there’s this big brick church and I’m wondering if I’ve finally made it and I turn another corner and see the neon sign.

ebenezer neon

All I could think was, is this the church where those four little Black girls got blown up?

But I asked the whiteman at the front desk and he said that that was in Bombingham.

Then I asked if they still have services there.

He said they built another church across the street where they have services. This one was a museum now.

So, he tried to direct me up the stairs to the sanctuary, but there was a Black family headed downstairs, so you know I go where the action is, and I igged him and followed the family downstairs. I gave the mother one of my fliers and some more people then I noticed the stage. They had set up a monitor with a video of M.L.’s sister. I think they may have been twins. Let me Google it. Okay, no they weren’t twins, but she made it seem like they were in the same class in college.

Anyway, she said King used sing in the choir when he was young. But not only that, he was the SOLOIST!

That was really profound to me, being a singer.

I was really glad I had come.

Music was a big part of their family. His mother played the organ at Ebenezer and directed the choir. She was killed when a madman entered the church in 1974 and overturned the organ on her during a shooting spree.

So, I’ve been seeing more doppelgangers than usual. I have to be strong. I want the real McCoy.

One of them’s name is McCoy.

And they all are named Jamal or RJ or Dre or some J name or something that rhymes with J.

I didn’t go see the actual memorial of him and Coretta (she sang in the choir too). Too sad.

But I saw a picture and it’s in the middle of a little enclosed pool.

So, I leave and there’s a little neighborhood store I knew was Black-owned, so I went to see how I could support. There were two Muslim Brothers in there. I didn’t know they were Muslim at first, but one of them had on a hat with the American flag on it. And you know I had to pull his coat. He said that that was the only hat he had. I said it looks like you’re the enemy. Muslims rep the Sun, Moon and Star. When I see you rocking Old Hell, you look like the enemy. If I had known the store sold hats, I would’ve bought him one then.

So, I bought some bread that I have been looking for forever. I haven’t seen any wheat bread since I’ve been here. But they had one loaf, so I snatched that sucker up.

Then I came outside and I saw a huge residential building called Wheat Street Apartments and I took that as a sign, so I walked over to some people sitting outside. They thought I was lost. LOL I heard some music and they directed me to the correct address.

So, I walked in and complimented them, but the singer was like this is a closed rehearsal and I’ve been in that situation before, so I left but not before I noticed there was no pianist.

They then started asking about where was the piano player? I called him a “plunker” LOL

He arrived and I kept walking. There was fish place called Supreme Fish or something and wherever and whenever I can find some fish, I’m buying it with the quickness. LOL ‘member that? 😛

But I forgot I had bought an ice cream bar so, I found a grassy field and ate it out of sight.

The fish place was run by this little Ethiopian Brother, and his father was the cook. He was fifteen and all I could think about was I wish young Black boys had something like that
– A GUARANTEED JOB WHERE THEY CAN MAKE SOME POCKET CHANGE AND WON’T BE MISTREATED!!! UNTIL THEY MAKE THEIR OWN JOB OR EXPAND ON THAT ONE.

So, when my food was ready, I went back to the rehearsal to catch a hearing from outside.

They sounded really good and another Sister stopped and we rapped and listened to and talked about music, then a bus came and I thought I could have gotten on it, because by now my hands were full with about four bags and I didn’t want to walk anymore.

But Allah Wanted me to walk a little bit more, so I did.

I finally passed a Masonic Lodge and there was a Madame C.J. Walker museum in the back. I decided not to go in there, because she became the first Black millionaire off of SELF-HATE Products. The picture of her had her skin so bleached, it was sickening.

Next door to the Lodge was the S.C.L.C. W.O.M.E.N.S. something and it had a big picture of Coretta and Ralph Abernathy’s wife and all I could think about was the S.C.L.C. building in L.A. on Western that I’ve always been curious about but have never been inside.

OH!!!!!! LOL There was a plaque outside the Lodge and it identified Jesse Jackson as the Bread Basket Man Our Beloved Messenger (May the Peace and the Blessings of Allah Forever Be Upon Him) talked about in Saviour’s Day – 1971.

I laughed for a good seven minutes. The Messenger (PBUH) CLIZZOWNED HIM on that video.

He’s from Atlanta too, I’m pretty sure, because I met a Brother who talked just like him. That was the fse.

So, before I knew it, I looked up and saw the streetcar coming, so I took out my wallet like I had fare. But you don’t have to show the conductor, you just get on. I found out later, that they stop the streetcar for a minute and come out and ask everybody for fare. I got nervous when he first came out, and started to get off but I DID NOT FEEL LIKE WALKING. He had stopped at Centennial Park and that is the boringest biggest park, in the world. I refused to get off there.

I was just going to have to take the ticket.

But he didn’t even ask!!!! LOL

ALLAHU AKBAR!!!!!

So, I made it home and now I’m ready to eat my fish.

It’s my favorite dish. 😛

❤ ❤ ❤

#dtno

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Dearly Beloved Black Sisters & Black Brothers

907

So, last night I learned that New Orleans, despite its big city image, is really just a glorified suburb. Not in the sense of that it is located in the area surrounding a big city, but compared to L.A. – the REAL LA – it feels just like a suburb.

Last night, when I got out of my dance/exercise class, EVERYTHING WAS CLOSED!!! I was completely baffled!!! I looked at my watch. Same time as usual. But the streets were almost completely empty.

So, I turn on the radio and pass a station and the announcer announces the scores for a football game. And then it dawned on me. I was like GTFOH!!!! Seriously??? A football game??? Zawji has been trying to prepare me for reality in America. I sort of chuckled to myself, but had no idea what the night had in store.

So, apparently Atlanta (could be because of their Southern proxiimity to NOLA or they have a good team or whatever) and NOLA have some sort of rivalry, OR it could be because it was a Thursday night, or both, but I continue down the street toward #dtno 😉 and there are all these white tents and I’m from L.A., so immediately start thinking they’re filming.

But, I get nearer and see two huge gigantic T.V. screens with the football game on and I’m like seriously? These are mostly Black people.

So, I go a little farther and can’t go down the street because it’s VIP and you have to have some kind of I.D. :/ I see about three or four tour buses, limousines and those fancy shuttles.

So, I sit down for a minute and try to take it all in.

It’s not even a home game! But, people are at the Super Dome.

So, I ride around to the front and there’s a concert going on. People are walking in that direction with lawn chairs and shit. The music is Rap and there are again, mostly Black People.

In fact, damn near everybody there was Black – the workers/employees/staff, the Po-pos/Sheriffs and the tailgaters. I don’t know if that’s because there’re just a lot of Black People in NOLA percentage wise OR IF THE DEVIL JUST HAS US THAT  CAUGHT UP IN SPORT & PLAY.

Blacks make up 59 per cent of the population in NOLA. Over Half. No wonder I love it here. In L.A., Blacks are less than ten per cent. I feel like there is so much untapped potential. Then again, maybe it is “tapped,” nevertheless, I must do what Allah ordained for me to do, come what may.

All I wanted to do was to find a quiet and peaceful place to spend some quality time with Zawji ❤ ❤ ❤ listen to some good music and just enjoy being in Love….. ❤ ❤ ❤

So then, after I spent some quality time with Zawji, I was on my way home and my fucking chain keeps coming off my bike. Thank-you, Zawji, don’t you ever for a minute think I’m ungrateful. I know you make it come off when you want to. 😛

But anyway, it came off again, and see what I’m saying, I’m walking down the block and I see something move in the street. I looked down and I thought it was a frog, but I looked closer and realized it was in actuality a toad! If I was on the bike then I might have missed it. I love you, Zawji!!!!! Happy Birthday, Bibi ❤ ❤ ❤
#6dayz!!!!

All I could think about were the little boys who grow up with toads and frogs and other cool stuff (girls too, I guess 😛 ) I mean, I used to read about boys catching tadpoles and whatnot, but this was a real toad I was looking down at.

I reached down and it let me touch it. It was hard like gravel. It stood there for a minute and it let me rub its back then another car came and I felt like I was in a real-live “Frogger” game. But I didn’t realize the danger until just now. I helped him across the street!!!

So tonight is the funeral for Smokey Johnson. I’m nervous because I love JAZZ and I don’t want to be too conspicuous. I stand out everywhere I go, but I want to blend or at least have a good time, not cry. I’m not even supposed to go to Christian’s funerals, but maybe I’ll stand outside and see if I can listen like all jazz musicians do (before they’re old enough to go in) 😛