WE DID IT FOR THE DEVIL MAN AND HIS FAMILY FOR OVER 400 YEARS!!! LET'S DO IT FOR THE BLACKMAN AND OUR FAMILIES NOW!!! WHATSUP@HomemakingForTheBlackwoman.com 🥰🩷🩷🌹🌿🌹🌿🔥🔥🔥🛹☝🏿 $HakimandKabirah
Music is a beautiful woman in her prime,
Music is a scrubwoman, clearing away the dirt and grime.
Music is a girl child,
Simple, sweet and beaming,
A thousand years old,
Cold as sleet, and scheming.
Wise and patient,
Unfathomably kind,
Music is the woman you always wanted to find.
As fragile as a flower,
A single petal of a rose,
And what you think you think,
She already knows she knows.
A system of ribbons,
A multiplicity of ramifications,
Sparkling from her brain down through her core,
A million facets of gossamer sensations.
And you could be
A most inadequate bore.
Music is a gorgeous bitch, …
A volcano of desire
Makes your blood to boil
As you get higher and higher.
Music is like the woman
Who is like mathematics:
Music is a woman who’s true.
No matter how well you know her
There’s always more to learn;
An Endless Adventure, Everyday She’s Brand-New.
Music is that woman, who you’ll hope will say,
“There’s very few (none in the case of my Zawji ❤ ) who do a new-do like you do.”
But, alas, you’re the victim of her coup
‘Cause she can always satisfy you.
Music is the woman
You follow day after day;
Music is the woman
Who always has her way.
When you don’t hear her,
You desperately miss her,
And when you embrace her,
You wish you could kiss her.
In my humble opinion, you are, hands down, the GREATEST TRUMPET MAN WHO EVER LIVED!
I love Miles, Lee, Dizzy, Clifford and Wynton is EXTREMELY talented, but YOUR MUSIC, My Dear Brother….When you BLOW, it just takes me to another level.
Your Duets With Sister Ella are Stellar and I hope they are around forever. I cannot fathom anything that could ever surpass them.
It makes my cry, though, Dear Brother, to think of how the devil Caucasians exploited you and the many other Black artists, who let them.
It makes me cry also, Dear Brother, to know that if it had not been for those same devils’ recordings of you and all of my favorite musicians, I would never have been able to hear your music. 😥
It also makes me cry, Brother Louis, to know that if I had been born during the time you were performing, I would have to sit up in the “Peanut Gallery” if I was allowed admission at all (like at the renowned Cotton Club where Blacks were only allowed to entertain the devil patrons but not enjoy the services offered there), if I wanted to see one of your legendary performances.
It makes my heart break, Dear Brother Louis, that you did not have enough Knowledge of Self to see how derogatory “Sleepy Time Down South” was and is to your own Black kind.
I’m sitting here, off Basin Street in Congo Square/Armstrong Park, watching nothing but devils come and go, posing and taking pictures in front of your statue, my dear poor, ignorant Brother.
I’ve been here ALL DAY and have not yet seen ONE Black Person come and visit your statue.
They (America) USED you, their servitude slave, Dear Brother, to travel around the world and act as an ambassador to convince their enemies of what a great country she it. HER SLAVE!
I know you didn’t know any better, Brother Louis, at least I hope you didn’t. I know the poison America has injected into all of her slaves – The So-called American Negroes – through her white supremacist school system, where ALL little Black schoolchildren are taught to worship and admire you because of your love for them.
I hate to say it, My Dear Brother, because of my love for you (regardless of your ignorance) and your music, but you were the Biggest Coon in American History. As much as I love you, Dear Brother, this is a fact.
Some might argue and say, Oprah Winfrey, but she has not been designated by the U.S. Government to act as an Ambassador to Foreign countries, like you were, My Brother.
Oprah Winfrey does not travel the world singing the praises of her slavemasters like you did, my Dearly Beloved, although Blind, Deaf, Dumb and Mentally Dead Dear Brother.
I know you had beef with some of the younger cats who were wide awake to the realization of their condition as “second-class citizens” (if that) here in the United Snakes of America, Dear Brother, like Diz.
I really wish you would have listened to him because that “Wonderful World” (just because of your reputation and image) was some ol’ bullshit, Dear Brother. However, I am happy that you presented a united front in the presence of our Universal and Open enemies – the Devil Caucasians.
Forsooth, if some white hippie, or even a self-proclaimed naturalist, like myself, had recorded it, Dear Brother, it would have had an entirely different connotation. However, because of your history of gratuitous obsequiousness toward your slavemasters, it came off as just another bearer of witness to your blind, deaf and dumb and mentally dead wretched state of mental slavery.
*I just broke my pen, throwing it at these devils.
I wish I had a grenade!
I hate these so-called “Jazz enthusiasts”,
Who claim Jazz as America’s only original art form,
And as if it is their own.
I just wanna CHOKE ‘EM!!!
ALL OF THEM!!!!
* * * **
Brother Louis, I would be remiss in my duties as a journalist if I did not relate for my readers, a story probably only circulated within the jazz community of artists…. wait, wait. I can’t tell that one. I read your autobiography.
(The first autobiography of a jazz musician ever written) and I used to get so frustrated, Brother, when you would not divulge some of your “inside” stuff!
So, I’ll tell another one, you did tell in your autobiography. You explained how when you played for the Queen of England and her people, how stiff and stuck-up and boring they all were. So, you gave them all laxatives and told them to “Loosen up!” LOL
Okay, damn I can’t hold water. But, this is so apropos seeing as how (when I wrote this anyway) it was weed-smoking season….
Anyway, you admitted in your autobio that every night before bed, you would take a laxative and then every morning you would “wake and bake” and loosen up in the bathroom. 😉
Well, the story goes that once you happened upon The President of the United States on one of your return trips from some foreign country and the President turned out to be a big fan of yours.
So, he asked you if there was anything he could do for you? And you said, “Yeah….”
“Slip this bag through customs real quick…..”
You ever notice how when boys add “real quick” to anything they ask of you, it’s impossible to say no? 🙂 #boyz #gottaloveem 😉 ❤ ❤ ❤
***TO READ LOUIS ARMSTRONG’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY ONLINE FOR FREE,
CLICK HERE!!!***
So, I’m pretty positive the devils who arrested me were both KKK AND MASONS. I know, I know KKK are supposed to be Christians but Masons (Muslim sons) are the biggest liars in history.
As we came through the fence surrounding the jail, we passed two older Brothers sitting there. I wondered why.
We reached the entrance to the jail. The driver mentioned you have to push the button next to the car for someone to open the gate, but he made no move to push the button!
Then, here comes Uncle Tom, ambling all the way from his post by the fence and HE pushes the button. I was floored (to borrow a word from my Dearest Zawji 😉 ).
Then as if that wasn’t bad enough, the devil had to comment on my poor Brother’s mental slavery condition, to make sure I bore witness to what is still going on down here in Dixie. I was imbibed with embarrassment.
All the Sheriffs, except one male and two females, were Black.
They let me keep my Holy Qur-an, but handcuffed me and forcibly removed my headpiece after I refused to do it myself. Then they held it hostage until I had completely finished the booking process. I was only required to remove it for the mugshot. Christians.
Allah (swt) Has Already Paid Them Back Their Mockery. I tried to reason with them.
“I took the picture. Can I put my headpiece back on?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t cooperate.”
“You asked me to do something that is completely in opposition to what Allah (God) Prescribed for me to do as a Muslim woman. Of course, I’m not going to go against my religion. I fear Allah ONLY.“
“You’ll get it when I give it to you. If I give it to you.”
We were in a huge auditorium-sized waiting room (Lock-Up) full of men (one white) and they would not allow me to cover my head, as Allah prescribed. I feel sorry for what Allah (God) Has Already done to them.
He (Allah) Has Killed three people for me (that I know of) already!
My neighbor
My landlady
My psychiatrist
Without me even asking!
So, one of my bitch-ass father’s doppels is ( أستغفر الله) threatening to take my headpiece permanently and I’m pacing back and forth trying to keep from losing it. (Bitch) Then one of the Sheriffs tells me to sit down. I said something smart, probably like (“I’ll sit down when I feel like it!” or something like that) and they put me in a holding cell, which was even better, because I could isolate.
Other women, eventually, were put in the cell with me. If they had to use the bathroom, the Sheriffs brought them in there, and left them. Even though there were two other single restrooms right outside the holding cell. That’s where they took me after my bodyscan came out questionable and they acted like I had something under my clothes and had to stripsearch me. I TOLD them why it came out like that, and asked them to just do another one. But Christians………
Then, they did that to this devil. I was mad they let her in there in the first place. But anyway, she went postal when they wouldn’t let her back out. Talking about, “I need my meds!!!!” SMH She started banging her shoe against the glass, but to no avail.
Eventually, she sat down and started thumbing through my Holy Qur-an. Ten years ago I would have snatched it out of her hand, kicked her in the face and called her a Universal Snooping Devil.
But, I’m older, wiser and much calmer now. I even sort of respected her for having the intelligence to even try and read it. None of the Sisters gave it a second look. But, I had to say something!
“You have to wash your hands before you touch that Book.”
She said something, washed her hands and started trying to involve me in a conversation. I wasn’t having it. She was a devil. And I don’t talk to devils.
Eventually, she went back to banging on the window, got turnt up and picked up my Holy Qur-an again.
“Give me my Book,” I didn’t like the way she was holding it.
“How do I know it’s yours?”
“Bitch, Do you not see this fucking headpiece?!?!” I thought.
“Give me my Book.” I said calmly.
“Is your name in it?”
I looked at her stale cheek.
“Hit it” Allah Demanded.
“Give me my Book.” I didn’t want to.
“Prove it’s yours.”
Then I gave her a nice jab to her right cheek.
She immediately started screaming for the deputies, who basically ignored her. Then she paused for a minute, tasting blood. “I’m bleeding!!!! I’m bleeding!!!!!”
I couldn’t believe it. I’ve been in many fights and never has anyone started bleeding. Devils are so weak-boned and stale-faced, just like Our Beloved Messenger, The Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad (PBUH) taught us.
I was holding in a laugh as the Sheriffs just walked by ignoring her. By now, she’s wiping blood on the glass. “I’m bleeding!!!” Everyone is paying her absolutely no attention. One of the Sisters laying on the bench, was like, “Will you shut up? I’m trying to get some sleep!” LOL
So then she got even more mad and picked up my Holy Book and slammed it on the ground.
It was on.
I attacked her and eventually the Sheriffs did come in and removed her from the cell. Which is really what both parties wanted in the first place….
* * * * *
New Orleans’ jail is so laid back compared to L.A. The inmates practically run the shit. I saw women switch dormitories, order the deputies around, and make them wait until they (the inmates) felt like going back in their cells.
When we changed into our prison garb, they just told us to put our clothes in a garment bag and turn it back in to them. They had such cute garments! They were, to borrow a phrase from my crazy neighbor who hates my guts, “Cal-Trans Orange” and came in coveralls, t-shirts, sweatshirts, shorts and pants. Even the sandals matched!
I tried to just put the coveralls on over my garment, but this one wanna be sergeant, peon deputy asked me if I still had on my clothes? How he knew? Your guess is as good as mine. So, I just gave them the dress, but I kept my pants-skirt on. I didn’t mind so much because I had a sweatshirt to cover my arms. I thank Allah!
I am ashamed to even tell you what we have to go through in the City of Angels.
Single file into the huge changing room. Face the wall. “When I say ‘Take off your shirt’ take off your shirt, fold it and put it in the plastic bag on the right side of the table behind you. When I say ‘Take off your pants’ take off your pants….” Until everybody is standing there butt naked. Then, “When I say ‘Put on your panties….'”
Yet another reason when I’m never going back to L.A. That is, unless Zawji pleases. 😉
I’m pretty sure Allah (God) Desires that I go to Harlem next. I’ve been there before tho, and I’ve been trying to get to Atlanta since January, but I’m pretty sure all the cities in the South are basically identical, with New Orleans being the standout.
I’m sayin’. I’ve met people from Birmingham, Mississippi and even ATLANTA, who came here (NOLA), so I’m like, “Why should I go there?”
But Zawji wants me to stay put until after his B-Day. 😀
This Duke Ellington autobio is what made me Know Allah (God) Wants me to go back to Harlem.
He AND Gordon Parks, (whose autobio I put down so I could read the Duke’s) had to go to Harlem twice before they made it. This will be my second time. So, I really have to wait for Zawji. NYE in Times Square would be fresh ta def tho. Word.
Being a CALIFORNIA GIRL, this will be my first time experiencing a real change of seasons also. I can’t wait to bear witness to the Autumn leaves and take an afternoon stroll with my Zawji. #23days 😀 ❤ ❤ ❤
(*I once checked this c.d. out at the library and the librarian asked me if I had returned a certain c.d. and I was like “No, Something Else” 😀 LOL)
Why, when I came home the other day, I couldn’t wait to savour the days catch of a french roll and a quart of whole milk! Only to discover I had left the milk at the place where I had used the computer.
Talk about dejected!
So, I went to the hotel store and was waiting for an opportunity to come up when here comes Head of Security – “Joe Smith: American Negro.”
“Um, excuse me Ma’am. Can you come with me?”
“Do I have a choice?” Really.
He led me through a part of the hotel I had never been and then to “his office” pfffff
I felt an opportunity to break, but thought about it too long.
TRESPASSING AND STEALING
AGAIN.
SMH
OMW TO JAIL.
AGAIN.
I HAD ONLY BEEN OUT FIVE (5) DAYS.
DAMN, GINA!
LOL
All I could think about was the numerous times the Deputies kept repeating, “And, don’t come back!” when I got released the first time.
Joe Smith: American Negro explained to the police over the phone, the nature of my crimes and please hurry.
I was not looking forward to seeing those Roman Catholic die-hards, who were so happy to see me go the first time, again.
And I really didn’t want to discover my Sweet little Sister who was so preoccupied with her children, but listened intently as I talked about the Messenger (PBUH), was still there.
That would’ve broken my heart. 😥
But there was “Sister Security” in “his office” and just like every other Southern Belle I’ve encountered here in Dixie, she was just as accommodating and convivial as she could be.
She gave me cold water and refreshments and we got to talking and discovered that we have a lot in common as far as traditional values go. She said she really wished she could be there when her 16-year-old son got home from school. And, when he called, she gave him the wisdom of a Sage. I added my two-cents and took it up to the next level.
Eventually, she buttered up Big Poppa Joe and convinced him to let me go after I promised (I really hope I didn’t give my word…) not to return.
You know I did. 😛
I hope I didn’t get you fired, Poppa. I heard you were running around the hotel looking for me. BUT, If I did, Brother, open up your own Security Service and do something for yourself. Tell those devils standing on your neck to kiss your Black you-know-what!
* * * * *
But back to our story…..
When I got to the dormitory, it looked like the men’s prisons I see on the news. In L.A., every body has a cell. You might have a “cellie” or you may have one all to yourself.
This jail looked like a big bomb shelter. It was made completely out of metal plates and there were bunk beds lined up toward the rear, with some cots between them. The very back wall held five cells for the particularly unruly Sisters. One of them was only seventeen, but she was so out of control that I had to cast my eyes in another direction when they let her out. I had tried to talk to her about the Messenger (PBUH) though and she seemed to listen.
There were lunch tables in the front of the dorm.
I got my mattress and chose a top bunk in the very back. I was right next to one of Neb Love’s (Five-Footaz) Doppels and thought she would be cool to bunk next to, seeing as how she’s Leimert Park folkers. I forgot or didn’t think it would matter that she’s a lesbo.
So, everything was pretty cool at first. (I started to write ‘the first few days’, but I was only there 2 and a half Time goes by at a snail’s pace when you’re incarcerated…) But the second Sister who showed a genuine interest in Islam after I got there, talked to her so meanly (? is that a word? No squiggly red line underneath, so I’ma roll with it.) Anyway, I couldn’t believe it! I have only heard one person speak meaner (Zawji 😉 ) I could not understand, WHY she spoke so harshly toward this Sister EVERY TIME she spoke to her. Neb might not even be paying her any attention and she would say something so cutting to her I almost felt sorry for her, but she had already lost my sympathy when she showed aversion to her salvation – ISLAM.
THEN, one night she (Neb) started banging this beat on the wall and singing some filthy song.
I ignored her and kept reading my Holy Qur-an. But, then this red devil started disrobing and dancing like a stripper. Meanwhile, I’m trying to reason with all the girls on my team not to get caught up in the devil’s wickedness, they’ve been doing that since they were in the caves and they only want us to go to hell with them……
But my efforts to enjoin them to righteousness fell on deaf ears.
Soon, the whole dorm was in an uproar, each girl, challenging her or egging her on. I’m still trying to read my Holy Qur-an and ignore it all.
Neb’s still banging away, THEN, the red devil decides to position her filth RIGHT NEXT TO MY BUNK AND STARTED HUMPING THE FLOOR!!!! I looked down in disgust. She kept it up though and I know she chose that spot just so she could affront and insult me, who was trying to be and show righteousness to my Sisters. (But who had also been, very loudly, calling her a devil all day and the day before 😉 )
I knew I had to do something or the situation would spiral out of any control. More importantly, I had to let her and everybody else in there know that she could not and would not get away with disrespecting the righteous without there being some consequences.
So, I threw my Holy Qur-an at her sinful ass.
POINT MADE.
She got up and I hopped down. She was ready to fight and everybody else was backing her up.
I was the Lone Voice Crying out in the Wilderness.
But here comes Deputy Jane to rescue me from their murderous machinations.
She took me outside and I was so happy to once again be out among the bees and trees and flowers that I barely heard her excuses.
I went back in victorious because everything was back to normal and apparently, it’s a very, very big deal when the Deputy has to escort you out. 😉 #likeaBOSS
I had a court date the very next day, which was also better than L.A. You might be up in there for two weeks before you ever see a judge. They had me in there 28 days once.
Anyway, to give you an example of how jacked up Louisiana courts are, Our Beloved Messenger (May the Peace and the Blessings of Allah Forever Be Upon Him) wrote about them in MESSAGE TO THE BLACKMAN IN AMERICA and I just read an article about it in their own newspaper.
So, I was kind of nervous. But, I didn’t go that day because they wouldn’t allow me to bring my Holy Qur-an. I really couldn’t part with it that day and so I refused court.
But Allah is the Best Knower, because I spent all day with the Sisters who were extremely interested in Islam; answering their many inquiries and telling them everything I know that would put them on the Road to Freedom, Justice and Equality, Knowledge of Self, God and our open enemies the devil Caucasians.
But, I did go the next day and just like in L.A., if you plead guilty, you get immediate discharge – no questions asked.
But two Sisters, on two separate occasions told me they had entered a guilty plea with the public defender, but she entered a not guilty plea instead. That’s what happened to the Sister who was worried about her children. She was supposed to be out, but the devil Public Defender changed her plea without her knowledge and entirely in opposition to her original request.
The Judge and his assistant or Court mediator, or whatever she was, could not stand her (the public defender), neither could the inmates.
So, I watched her fill out my paperwork very closely and my guilty plea was entered. “Mrs. Jamillah Washington” was being released. LOL 😉 No fees. No fines. No court dates. First offence, you know…. 😉 😛
But, as the court was wrapping, some of the inmates started voicing their disapproval of the defense. (Oh yeah, before I forget, there’s a microphone where you can actually TALK TO THE JUDGE!!!!!. In L.A., if you even THINK about saying something they (the judges, attorneys, staff, Sheriffs, EVERYBODY) act like you committed murder. So, as soon as I got up there I said this secret Masonic teaching that will get you off EVERY TIME! That’s probably why I got off so easily, with No fees and whatnot. EVERYBODY else had court fees. It was so common that I began to think that that was all they cared about. THE BENJAMINS. “Can you pay today?” “$250 fine” “$60 for 12 months”…. and so on…. Also, the Judge didn’t announce over the mic that I had no fees, like he announced everybody’s fines, the public defender came and whispered it to me.
When you go to court, all you have to do is say…… Nah, I can’t go out like that. 😛
JOIN THE NATION OF ISLAM AND STUDY THE HONOURABLE ELIJAH MUHAMMAD (PEACE BE UPON HIM) ACCEPT YOUR OWN (YOUR OWN GOD – ALLAH, YOUR OWN RELIGION – ISLAM AND YOUR OWN PEOPLE – THE BLACK PEOPLES OF THE PLANET EARTH) AND BE YOURSELF (A RIGHTEOUS MUSLIM) AND IN SHA ALLAH (IF IT PLEASES ALLAH) YOU WILL COME ACROSS THIS MOST VALUABLE TEACHING IN YOUR STUDIES. 😉
Read MESSAGE TO THE BLACKMAN HERE; OUR SAVIOUR HAS ARRIVED HERE; THE FALL OF AMERICA HERE; HOW TO EAT TO LIVE, BOOK ONE HERE; HOW TO EAT TO LIVE, BOOK TWO HERE;
So, anyway, some of the inmates start telling the Public Defender, she needs to go home and study some more and whatnot. So, I decided this was the perfect time to confront her about the two Sisters who told me she changed their pleas. She assured me she would never do anything like that. Naive Love Allah said, “Not even if you were convinced it was in her best interest?”
“Oh no,” she said, “I would NEVER do that!”
She sounded so sincere, I almost believed her. The Archdeceiving Devil! So then, I said,
“Well, somebody is lying, and THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER. So, I think it’s you.”
She didn’t say anything after that.
I started to take the LSAT to go to Law School. But I didn’t have any I.D. I was in the process of changing my name and I refused to get an I.D. in my slave name. So, I never took it. But I know I could be a kick-ass lawyer.
I had the study guide with me one day when Hakim (my son) and I were in an American Sign Language (ASL) class. This deaf Brother came in and inquired about the book. I told him I was studying it. He told me it was good because there are a lot of deaf Brothers in the criminal justice system who are as mistreated as any other Blackman in America, but it’s more difficult for them because in addition to a racist defender they have to have an interpreter. So, they kind of have two strikes against them. Most Blackmen only have to deal with a racist lawyer. They have to deal with both a racist lawyer AND a racist interpreter.
Okay, for the sake of my deaf Brothers, I will tell you what to say to the Judge. I love ya’ll. 😉 Just say, “I SEE YOU ARE A TRAVELING MAN.”
That’s all. He won’t say anything to acknowledge that he heard you. But don’t you say anything either. *whispering* It’s supposed to be a secret, remember? He will give you a much lighter sentence, extra time to pay your fine, if you already have one or even dismiss your case. I’ve done it several times. Every time I went back to ask for extra time to pay a fine, the Judge was like, “How much time do you need?” LIKE THAT!
In conclusion, I remember, when I was about 12, telling my mother I wanted to be a Judge when I grew up. She said I would have to be a lawyer first and I was like, “Nah.” LOL
So, after graduation from Pasteur, which was horrible because my mom wouldn’t let me celebrate with my friends, who were allegedly with N.E., if I remember correctly.
I had to go out to dinner with “them.” (My family) I cried. I hated/hate my mother.
I wrote that in my diary B.I.T.D. and my father read it and left her. I hate him too. I almost wish they had never hooked up.
I am the result of the only pregnancy they planned, so something of good came out of them. Allah is THE BEST PLANNER.
Anyway, I was also upset because ALL of my friends were going to Hamilton High. That’s where I wanted to go soooooooooooo badly. 😥 But I had to go to L.A. I didn’t know ANYBODY who was going there. 😥
But on the first day, I saw some familiar faces.
One of these faces, was this Sister who was in the same Fourth Grade class with me and my Habibi ❤ at Trinity.
We were walking near the rear gate at my school and I saw a Brother. I don’t know what it was about him, but I was immediately intrigued.
I asked Stephanie something I have NEVER asked about any Brother before or since, “WHO IS THAT?“
She casually replied, “Oh, THAT’S A.J.“
I couldn’t believe I didn’t recognize my Honey-Stick! But, I was thinking, “A.J.!?! Hmmph! He Must Think He’s All That.” At Trinity, he was Jamal. I guess he grew up and got cool.
Anyway, we hooked up, of course and became inseparable once more.
We understand each other like other people will NEVER understand us. When our classmates ripped us apart they called us “LOONEY TUNES” We both love music. I don’t know about the Looney. But, probably to them.
We enjoy things that, it seemed, only certain people (certainly, no one we knew) enjoy together. He gets me and I understand him better than anyone else. I LOVE YOU, HABIBI! ❤ ❤ ❤ 😀
When other people made fun of us individually, we had each other. They used to try and belittle him, in front of me all the time (still do) in a useless attempt to make me stop LOVING HIM. Crumbs.NEVER. GONNA. HAPPEN.
Years later, one night at the club, he was standing near me and my so-called friends. This one was cracking on his suit so badly. I felt sorry for him. But he just acted like he didn’t even hear her. He was just watching the dance group working it out on stage. ( “THE ❤ POSSE” ) So, everybody’s watching the group and my “friend” is continually talking about my Honey-Stick, when next thing we know, he leaps onto the stage, which had to be at least four feet high and finishes the routine with the group – THE STAR OF THE SHOW!!!
(PISSED – NO RAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
(W T F WERE YOU THINKING???!!!!!!!!)
EVERYBODY WAS DUMBSTRUCK, ESPECIALLY MY “FRIEND.” I don’t see how you can still befriend her, Habibi. I blocked her a long time ago. But, I have never been more awestruck in my life! I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t there!
He is a little older than I am. That’s really no excuse. I never knew that Brothers could be hurt from love. That’s no excuse. It’s true. But it’s no excuse, Sir.
I was fourteen in September, 1985. Only six (6) years after we first met. Seems like much longer. But there we were meeting again for the second time. He was “A.J.” now.
When you’re a teenager, you don’t really take the time to analyze things. Things just happen. You don’t think about why and what could be the result.
I had a journal, of course. I had kept one since I met him and our teacher (Mrs. Bacon, can you believe that? I was shocked to learn there was a Mr. Bacon too) introduced us to composition books. I think I’ve owned one ever since. I have a chartreuse one now. 😀
I hate when people tell me “No.” or “You’re not supposed to” or “You can’t do” something. I think a little bit more than ordinary people. So, I’m a rebel with a cause but without a pause.
I remember, one day we were on the stairs in this corner of the school that nobody uses.
I didn’t even know they were there. So we could isolate and listen to this little red radio we got from one of my “friends.”
Music has always been a part of our lives. In fourth grade I would write down the lyrics (I don’t know if I used to print them or write in cursive. I guess after I learned how to write in cursive I wrote them in cursive 😀 ) to the Love Songs we had the sheet music to.
I stared taking piano lessons when I was seven (7) but my mom would allow us to go to the music store and buy sheet music for R&B songs as an alternative to the classical. If I had had the notion I would have bought some Ellington.
I saw some of his sheet music for the first time about a month ago and it blew my mind! I didn’t want to stop playing. I had never seen any music written like that in my life. #nowimonamission 😀
So, we were on the stairs (supposed to be in class 😉 I don’t know why everything that’s supposed to be wrong is so RIGHT when we’re together. EVERYTHING!) listening to Patti and Michael. I HATED that song! Now, I know why. Interracial relationships are shameful!
I’m pretty sure this was after I allowed him to be the first man to kiss me. So, there was probably some making out on those stairs. But I had never been more at ease. My Habibi just makes everything right and exact.
So, when this teacher came ambling down the hall towards us, we didn’t even pay him any attention, I didn’t anyway. Until he said those dreaded three words:
Guess who I ran into last night, on my way home? (I had a very busy day, yesterday. I went downtown and saw free JAZZ. Then went to LACMA and saw some more free JAZZ. TOLD HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE ABOUT THIS. (Hey Ra! )
Went to see about my Habibi ❤ (Honey-Baby in Arabic 😉 ) And on my way home ran into a childhood friend of mine and yours 😉
Remember this Brother??
I’ve learned that in America, there are some GOOD things going on in the Wilderness. Jack in the Box is one of the good ones. When I was little, I couldn’t even talk but everytime we passed a Jack In The Box, I would say loudly, “BAbababah!!”
No one in my family knew what I was saying, until one day somebody figured it out. We NEVER went there. But, obviously, I knew what it was.
My Uncle Mike, ONLY ate at BAbababah.
But I went there recently to get change for the bus, and I looked around, and it had historical pictures and I could not help but think, “THISPLACE IS ALRIGHT.” Being homeless, it’s very difficult to find good food that won’t kill you.
Jack In The Box is a place that I endorse. And if you know me, you know that’s saying something.
Of course, “NO MEAT IS GOOD FOR YOU” but you can eat Onion Rings (they’re fried, but at least there’s no meat). They’re better than french fried potatoes, as well.
My son and I used to go there every years before and after Ramadan for the shakes. Pumpkin Pie and Egg Nog. OMG. Makes Christmastime almost bearable.
YOU CAN READ MORE ABOUT HOW TO EAT TO LIVE BY CLICKING THIS LINK
He did try to talk to me too. Very subtley. Hollywood. But do you not see this ring on my finger, Brother? I tried to hook him up with one of my doppels. I didn’t tell her who he was. She looked too young to remember. Maybe. Maybe not.
The next time I saw my Honey Pooh-Bear was a few years later.
For some reason, my mom took us out of Trinity (and NOT Trinity Elem. in South Central!) We only went there that one (1) year. But, it was THE Most Memorable Year of My School Years, and I have TWO DEGREES! 😀
(“Trinity” – Hmmmph! لا إلهَ إلاّ اللّهُ THERE IS NO GOD BUT ALLAH!!!)
So, after “Trinity” (hmmph!), then we went to this school with devils. This was my first experience being with devils and I hated it and them. ALL of the teachers were prejudiced and there was not a single Black teacher in the whole school.
I know my mom only took us out of Trinity and dropped us in that hellhole because a girl from church whose parents were upper-middle class, and her brother went there.
Both my mom and my sister have this thing about the “Jones’ ” Not me though. At least I don’t think I do. I just like nice stuff – luxury and whatnot. But, not because anybody else has something. I like what I like. But, when you’re nine, you go wherever your mother takes you.
That’s really the only thing about that school worth mentioning. I learned how dirty and nasty, prejudiced and mischievous devils can be.
But, I had a best friend, Malikah! That was the first I had ever heard that name and I Never forgot her or it. (I know that’s not how you spell it, Dear Sister Malaika [ملكة] 😀 )
I didn’t find out until yesterday what my Hubby was doing those years we weren’t physically together (like now 😥 ) It was like he read my journal because I wrote all this stuff the day before yesterday!
Anyway, he changed his whole profile and posted all these throwback pics like, “Look Honey, this is what I was doing.” (smile) Honey-Sweet he is.
We stayed at the hell-hole for two years, then my parents decided to put us in public school. It was to be my first year in Junior High School.
I didn’t go to the neighborhood school. Now, it’s called “Johnny Cochran Middle School” but back then it was called “Mt. Vicious” LOL So, I went to school a little further West.
I wasn’t scared, just real nervous (Heeeeey, Fat Lip! 😀 ) because I had to catch the bus all by myself now. And, I didn’t know anybody at Pasteur, or so I thought.
But when I got there I saw a friend from church and she gave me the best. advice. ever. “Get in Drill Team.” (Heeeey Nikki! Thanks, Girl. ❤ How’s Snoopy? )
So, I went there all three years and I remember three things.
1. My English Teacher – Mrs. Brown – She taught me my love for words extemporaneously. LOL Luv ya, Mrs. Brown!!! ❤ ❤
2. Reading The Color Purple. I always thought “Mr. Blank” But, I guess that wouldn’t work in a feature film.
3. Sitting in assembly and noticing that a group of students didn’t say the Pledge of Allegiance to the American flag. That really got my attention. They didn’t even stand up! They just sat right there in their seats while we’re all pledging our allegiance to the flag of this wicked and evil counry of Christian devils who enslave, beat, rape and kill us DAILY! I must’ve already had it in me because I asked them “Why didn’t you say the Pledge of Allegiance?” They said:
“WE HAVE OUR OWN FLAG.“
I didn’t know it then, but I was well on my way to joining the Nation of Islam right then and there.
I took a Computer Class and the extent of our learning how to program a computer was how to make a word or phrase run up, down and around; even sideways (Heeeey Dana!!! LOL) on the screen, ad infinitum.
But the teacher, Mr. Spencer (I wonder if he is a musician, hmmmm???) was soooooo cool. I learned all the words to “Roxanne-Roxanne” in his class. (We couldn’t listen to the radio at home. ) Now that I remember him, he had to be a musician. His classes were full of music!
I had him for “Electric Shop” too. When I should have been in “Homemaking Class.” I think mine was the first generation to suffer from the effects of the “Women’s Lib” movement. “Latch-Key Kids….” The removal of “Shop” and “Homemaking” AND Art and Music…. I don’t know why they got rid of the Art and Music. Maybe they just threw out everything fun (Art and Music) and PRACTICAL(Shop [for the fellas] and Homemaking [for the girls] ).
Mr. Spencer noticed my typing one day and asked if I knew how to play the piano. The next thing I know I’m in the school band. I didn’t even know we had a band! They probably just started it back up for me. hee hee hee 😉
It was kinda fun though. I got to play the vibes a little. And I thought it was hella cool, the way the Brother who played the baritone saxophone used to lean to the side and play. I think he used to wear shades too. Salute!
(Something like this 🙂 )
(Heeeey, Ms. Greene, I wish you had let me play the vibes a little more, Dear Sister. 😦 )
I KNOW I SAW A VIDEO OF DINAH WASHINGTON PLAYING THE VIBES SOMEWHERE. BUT I CAN’T FIND IT!!!
I HATE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS.
Anyway, at some point between Fifth and Ninth Grades (I was thinking Sixth, but judging by the sparkle in my eyes [it mirrors the sparkle in my Fourth Grade pic] in my Eighth grade picture, it may have been further down the road)
Me and my Honey-Bear ran into each other again.
Sparks flew around the playground at Rancho Cienega. We were the only ones there.
Everybody else was watching boring Little League baseball. I’d rather watch paint dry. But it is fun to play. When Our Saviour, Master Fard Muhammad, To Whom Praises Are Due Forever, was among us, in the history of The Nation of Islam, the Believers would join together, on Holy Tuesday (every Tuesday), and enjoy each other’s company.
Our Saviour, Master Fard Muhammad, To Whom Praises Are Due Forever, Would WALTZ! with one of the Lucky Sisters, WITH A GLASS OF WATER ON HIS HEAD!!!!!!!
The Believers and The Saviour would play games for prizes, and play baseball.
I used to play softball at the devil’s hell-hole and it must’ve been my first experience, because I remember I used to throw the bat every time I hit the ball. And everybody would yell, “Don’t throw the bat!” So, I used to overdo it. I would carefully, slowly and deliberately, lay the bat down by my feet after I hit the ball and then TAKE OFF!
I can be so dramatic…….
Anyway, we were the only ones at the playground and he must’ve spotted me first because I don’t really remember how our chance encounter commenced.
(Doesn’t “Ro-Ro” look like Ronnie??? Hmmmm????)
Man, we used to have so much fun at the playground back in the day.
The simpy playground equipment they have for our children to play on nowadays is boringcompared to the toys we used to have. The only thing they retained that’s any fun are the swings. It’s hard to find a decent slide nowadays.
We played on the see-saw. It’s too bad they don’t make them like they used to. You could really cement a friendship on the See-Saw. You were completely putting your life in the other person’s feet (smile) all the while, creating a life-long, close-knit bond that can only come from riding a see-saw with the one you love.
That’s probably why they don’t have them anymore. They (American devils) don’t want us to form those types of bonds. They don’t even want them with each other. Mischief and Bloodshed is what they were made for.
But we rode it together anyway.
He pushed me on the Merry-Go-Round and we talked.
I used to love the Merry-Go-Round too, so I’m just having a ball with the man of my dreams and just as happy as I could be, and just as oblivious to the magnitude of the time as I could be too.
I asked him how come he wasn’t playing baseball. His reply was that he plays Basketball. How cool is that?!?!? My Honey is the Dopest. They didn’t have a hoop in the whole park yet he still won’t play boring baseball. Such a showman.
I was floored (to borrow a word from my Dearest Zawji 😉 ).
Homemaking For The Black Muslim Woman Journal ™ 