بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

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

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum My Babies

I’m only writing this because our Brother Jayson said he looked forward to daily updates and my daily activities are so peculiar that I might as well share.

Yesterday, I was forced to go to this laundromat that I did not want to go to.

But the customer service at the other one was so bad, I figured I would at least give it a try. Actually, the owner kept telling me not to come back. And although, I know he would not have refused my money if I kept insisting on giving it to him, my teacher, The Honourable Elijah Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) taught me well.

While MLK and his followers were forcing devils to serve them in their restaurants, the Honourable Elijah Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) taught his followers not to suffer such humiliation as hoses and ketchup being poured upon you, and go and open your own restaurant.

Furthermore, sitting next to them in their restaurants does not make you their equal. It is still their restaurant/bus/school. In order to be EQUAL, you have to own what they own.

So, this other laundromat is right next door to this 24-hour restaurant that I had pictured as a pick-up spot for hoes and in L.A., laundromats are also pick-up stops for hoes so since they were connected I figured they would be owned by the same people.

But I had had reservations about Family Dollar and ended up loving it. So, I decided to stop going where I was not wanted and give the old restaurant/laundromat a chance.

Sure enough, there were dining booths in the laundromat, which I kinda dug because I like comfort. As well as a menu. There was kinda like a buffet/take-out next to the laundromat and a dine-in/sit-down restaurant next to the buffet.

So, the restaurant is named after a Blackwoman, so naturally, I wanted to meet her. I asked one of the employees who she was and she pointed to the big, muscular white devil who had been following me around. He looked like a Marine.

I was like, “Okay, maybe they just gave him a Blackwoman’s name for some reason” and went on about my business.

So, I put my clothes in the washer and go to the bathroom. There was a sign on the door for the employees and it said the employees were not allowed to wear dresses. But 99 per cent of the employees were Blackwomen.

So, I asked the Marine “Why is that?” (Hey KRS 😉 ) and he said he didn’t make the rule.

This caught me by complete surprise because I was under the impression that since the restaurant was named after him, he was the owner. Total confusion there.

So, I began my interrogation and came to find out that this restaurant was commercializing off the name of a “dear family friend.” He said the owner was actually his uncle and that no one had ever asked about the “no-dresses” policy before but after listening to my reasoning about how women should be able to wear long dresses and skirts to cover our legs he said he would talk to his uncle.

I was not interested in the policy anymore but wanted to hear the story of how the restaurant came to be named after a Blackwoman.

He didn’t want to talk about it anymore and I told him to his face, you just named it after a Blackwoman because you know we can cook and it would get you more business.

This establishment was making beaucoup money and I bet the Blackwoman they named it after didn’t get anything but name recognition. No profits. Not even a Second-Line.

So, I’m doing laundry and this young Sister and her brother come in. The Brother leaves and I go talk to the Sister. She had on too much make-up so I start by telling her how she is the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in New Orleans, but I saw the beauty underneath all that make-up, and so on. Encouraging her to be her natural Black self.

She turned out to be just like me. Brains and Beauty and Body.

She told me that those party buses are ALWAYS children in them and you have to pay about $2.oo to ride it. They last for about two hours and stay out as late as one o’clock in the morning. I think they even pick you up at your house.

She said she would never ride one but in New Orleans children grow up really fast.

The music was really good there, most of it, so I changed my clothes and washed the clothes I had had on too. I only have two changes of clothes so I have to wash my clothes every day: wear one, wash the other one. It keeps life simple.

But while I was there I got to talk to beaucoup Black people and tell them not to carry their clothes in trash bags. I noticed a lot of people did that out here. I told them we are too good to carry our clothes in garbage bags. We are Gods and Goddesses. Not garbage.

So, I really didn’t have anything to do and was just going to hang out and listen to the music and talk to Blackpeople, but there was this one Brother who came in with his head wrapped and I knew immediately he was gay. But he took it off so I thought maybe not.

But, he came and sat at my table, so I sat down and started talking to him about the workbook I had noticed him carrying. He was studying to take the pharmaceutical test. I asked if he went to the local community college and he said no, he was just going to take the test.

I admired that. Devils always try to put every obstacle in our way to keep us from succeeding. Permits, tests, rules, regulations and whatnot just to try and discourage us from advancing.

I wanted to be a judge when I was about twelve. My mother told me I would have to be a lawyer first, and I was like forget it.

King Solomon was the wisest judge who ever lived and he didn’t have to be no lawyer first!

America. SMH.

So, we started talking about the music and I asked what was his favorite type of music and he said he didn’t have one. I said “Everybody has a favorite” He said, “I don’t.” I thought that was clever and I noticed he wasn’t wearing headphones like everybody else I meet. So, I asked him what was the last song he was listening to in the car. He said he was listening to the radio. Then I asked what station was he listening to. He said Q93 or whatever it is. And I know that to be the young folks station. I was just happy he was listening to Black music.

So, then we start talking about his tatts. He said they were for his parents. One was a symbol I didn’t recognize and he said it was a zodiac sign. I’m Muslim and we don’t believe in the stars predicting our future or present. We control the stars. They don’t control us.

He had a name written on it and I read it. He said it was his mother’s name.

Then I asked about his other tatt which was congruent to the first one. I asked if it was his father’s zodiac sign. He said no, it was his. So, naturally I asked where was his father’s. He said his mother and his father had the same zodiac sign.

I didn’t think to ask yesterday, but I should have asked why wasn’t his father’s name up there too then?

So, he mentions that he has a “partner” and I know that’s a code word for homosexual lover. So, I started telling him about how he’s going to be destroyed if he’s homosexual because Allah is wiping that wickedness off the face of the earth.

So, he says, ‘Well, I’m just going to have to be destroyed then.”

It’s so hard to give up on people, so I just took that as my cue to bounce, made sure he had the title of Message to the Blackman in America and broke out.

Dropped my clothes off and picked up Lucille (my bike).

So, I went to this Jewish place to get some vittles. The Honourable Elijah Muhammad (PBUH) taught us in How To Eat To Live that the food of the Orthodox Jews is good for the Muslims and vice versa because they don’t eat prohibited foods like swine.

But, they HATE me. The first time I went in, the Hebrew Israelites were standing around reading the Bible out loud and I laughed because they were in the devil neighborhood. I said, “This is where ya’ll meet?” LOL But after I went in and learned that it was owned by Jews, I understood completely.

So, the big Jewish man behind the counter saw me and wanted to pick a fight. I was worn out but still beat him. He asked me “Who was Jesus?” I guess he thought I was a Christian because my answer kind of surprised him.

He was boasting that Jesus was from Jerusalem and I corrected him by saying, “Palestine” and told him that Jesus was a righteous prophet of Allah.

Then he points out that the man behind me in line was Jewish too. And the man repeats my answer, “Jesus was a righteous prophet of Allah.”

And I was like Puffy, “Take that!“

So, then I go outside and one of the Hebrew Israelite Brothers tried to “educate” me, seeing me in my M.G.T. uniform.

“You know you’re an Israelite, Sister, right?”

I said, “Yeah, I know. We’re the Children of Israel.”

They kept trying to debate with me. But I agreed with them. The so-called American Negroes are The Children of Israel. It’s just that the Muslims know that Allah is God.

So, then they start talking about how we’re supposed to wear fringes on our clothes.

These brothers had on purple t-shirts with gold fringe on the bottom. I have debated with Brothers in what looked like S&M costumes. LOL So you know they were like chump-change. I got ’em so bad that when I left, they left. Wanna-be Jews. If you only would read and believe Message to the Blackman in America it would put you on top of civilization at once!

Also, I ordered some food. They left with their heads down, empty-handed.

They used to appear rather successful in L.A. but time makes all things manifest.

T-shirts. SMH

So, the food was so good. And good food is so hard-to-find in New Orleans, I went back the next three days in a row.

The second time, the big Jewish man’s son was behind the counter and I’m used to greeting people in their own language, so I gaily walk up to the counter and say, “Shalom!”

Why did he almost bite my head off?

Some people are possessive when it comes to their language. I met a little Mexican who didn’t like me and Hakim speaking Spanish. But most of the time people respect that I took the time to learn their language. It’s diplomatic, ya heard?

So yesterday, I couldn’t WAIT to get my baba ganush but they made me wait about five minutes before even coming up to the register. He told me the kitchen was closed because it was Sunday. All they had was sausage pizza for the Niggers in the neighborhood.

I was pissed off but I was starving and it is so hard finding food that won’t kill you in America. So, I just decided to get an avocado. I try not to carry cash because I just end up giving it away, so I handed him my debit card. He said there was a $5.00 minimum.

I sighed and went to the ATM. On my way back to the register, he was acting like he was sweeping but was actually following me around. He was right there when I went to the ATM too.

So, I looked at the floor and it was spotless. I told him to go ahead. He said, “No, you go ahead.” So, I was like forget the avocado this is too much. I told him I would take my money elsewhere. He seemed a little disappointed but said, Yeah, maybe you should. Then he tells me about another Mediterranean restaurant over on Frenchmen Street. I was so hungry I almost went. But I didn’t believe the kitchen was closed so why would I go on a wild goose chase looking for some restaurant a lying devil told me about?

I tried to get a couple devils to go in and order it for me but I don’t trust them either.

So, I got Lucille and we rolled through the Treme’.

I saw a little boy leaving his house and this is one of those apartments that don’t have a backdoor and they really creep me out. And he looked kinda little, so I started following him and we struck up a conversation. I knew he was going to the store because he had a dollar in his hand. I told him to put it in his pocket.

He had his ear pierced and I told him that was for girls but he could always take it out. He had little twists but he said his mother WAS NOT going to cut his hair. I laughed and said, You know that already, huh? Then he surprised me by saying she would take him to get a haircut. I laughed at my faux pas and was happy that his mother was not as stiff-necked as most of the other Blackwomen I meet with sons about cutting their hair.

So, he walks into the store and I’m outside sitting on LuLu and here comes Jew, Jr. telling me to leave. I told him I was waiting for my little Brother. Then he looks in the store and sees him and looks at me like he knows I’m lying, but all Black people are Sisters and Brothers. Then my little Brother comes out with an ice cream sandwich.

I asked him if it was a dollar. He said, $1.35 or $1.65, I can’t remember. I asked did he get any change. He said no. I should have talked more about math but I was more interested in him. He seemed so little to be walking to the store by himself. I thought he was about in the fourth grade. I asked him what grade he was in. He said Kindergarten. I was like “What?!!!????!!!!”

Then I thought maybe he started school late or something so I asked him how old he was. He said, “Six” I could not believe it.

I said you must be almost seven. When is your birthday. He said November. I said November what? He said third. I said, “You just TURNED six?!!!!???”

But when we reached the corner, Allah Told me to let him lead me. So, I was about to cross, but I looked at him and he stayed put. Then I looked and saw there was a car coming.

The Blackman is God.

I asked him if he could go to another store. He said the other ones were far away.

Duh. Six years old and making more sense than me.

So, I ride down a few yards and I see some Black twenty-somethings sitting and standing outside this house that I had only seen devils occupying. It was a beautiful house and I had noticed it several times so although something (probably them) told me to keep it pushing, I stopped and told them I had only seen devils there before.

They were getting high off weed.

There were two who looked like Brothers (light-skinned, possibly mulattoes), a brown-skinned Sister with what looked like lightly bleached hair slicked down to her scalp, and another brown-skinned handsome attractive Brother.

They did NOT want to talk to me.

But I love a challenge.

So, one of the high yaller Niggras said The Honourable Elijah Muhammad’s (PBUH) name and he said it so funny, I was offended. Then I realized that they had Louisiana accents too. I don’t know why I expect the rich looking Black people to talk “white.”

So, he tried to get rid of me by telling me there was a woman across the street who would love to talk to me. But instead of leaving I went across the street and knocked on the door. There was no answer so I sat on the porch and started reading my Miles Davis autobiography like I was waiting for her to come home.

I could hear the Sister trying to “educate” them about Islam because they clearly knew nothing. So, I yelled, “If you want to learn about Islam talk to someone who knows!”

Then she shut up.

Naturally, I started harrassing all the devils (calling them devils and giving them the finger), then the police roll by. I stuck out my tongue at them and gave them the finger too. I’m from Bompton. NWA, foo.

They started laughing at that.

So, then their upstairs neighbor, who probably called the police, came downstairs and started talking to them. So, then I said as loud as I could in my whiteman voice, “Do you guys know that Nigger over there?” “Who is that new Nigger?” Then he started waving his hand like he was blowing smoke away and I said, “I told ya’ll stop smoking” Even though I don’t remember if I did.

So, I thought of a place I could go get something to eat and decided the lady wasn’t coming and went back across the street to tell them bye.

The brown-skinned Brother was so cute, I couldn’t help but flirt a little bit.

I asked him if he could turn on my lights. I have lights in my wheels. SMH One of the high-yallers got jealous and said I’m not supposed to be talking like that. LOL I was like, “Please, Brother, I can’t reach it” I love playing the damsel in distress role.

But he just got angry and said I was “disturbing his peace” and since he used the word peace which is what Islam means, I respected his wishes and let him know that was the only reason I was leaving.

So, I was heading toward the spot when I neared Congo Square and heard the drums. I thought I would roll through and show them my new wheels.

Their Drum Circle is not even a circle though. It’s a half-circle with a donation box in the middle. *sigh* Even the Afrocentric Black people in New Orleans are nothing but coons.

So, I roll into the park and I see this pre-teen beautiful Black Sister on a bike, then I look and she’s with this old white devil with a PIG on his t-shirt. Nothing else. Just a filthy pig.

I was speechless. But I felt so protective of her! I approached them and almost couldn’t find the words. I blurted out, “Why are you with him?”

She was speechless too for a minute then the devil blurts out, “What kind of question is that? You’re so evil!”

Then she finally gets out, “He’s my piano teacher.”

I immediately have flashbacks to some T.V. show I had seen where the white piano teacher was molesting his Black students and couldn’t get that out my head.

I said, “You are not supposed to be alone with a devil! You are supposed to be with your own Black people. Tell your mom to get you a Black piano teacher.”

 Congo Square was forgotten and I started trailing them.

I just wanted to make sure she got home safely so I stayed far enough back for them not to be too concerned however, they knew I was there. 

 She had on a Treme’ t-shirt and I had asked her if she lived in the Treme’. She said “Yeah” So I figured we wouldn’t be going too far.

They stopped in front of the Candlelight something or other. A music joint that I had passed several times. Once at night when it was finally open and saw too many devils to interest me in entering. I never felt any love from the Black people I saw there either. At least not the Sisters.

So, they stopped there and he gives her his phone.

I yelled out, “Yeah! Call your Momma!”

So, they stand outside and I go in. I had been wanting to see what it looked like inside for a long time. There is a lot of history in that area. One of the Sisters starts giving me grief about Lulu but I just wanted to take a quick peek.

The devil and the girl move across the street to one of the shotgun houses but they don’t go in. They just put the bikes up and come back and sit on the porch. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I asked about the devil and the little girl. And didn’t that make them uncomfortable. Where was her mother? She told me someone had been there earlier arguing about the same thing. I was like Good. She said you just can’t do anything about it. I said, Yes you can. You can stop making them feel so welcome here. You let one in next thing you know they’ve taken over.

So then, I notice there’s no piano. I thought that was very unusual for a music joint in New Orleans. Pianos are everywhere. Even the hospital has a piano!

So, the old lady who owns it told me the devil across the street brings his piano. A keyboard. I hate keyboards. I like acoustic. But they’re cheaper and easier to move around.

But most music spots have a baby grand.

I looked inside another music spot in the Treme’ The Little People’s something or other and again, no piano. I’ve summed it up to music in New Orleans doesn’t need a piano. Pianos are for straight-ahead jazz, not Second Lines. But I play piano and sing, so I like to see them.

So, eventually my little Sister’s mother arrives and I approach the vehicle. She’s standing at the window probably telling her about me, and she says “My mother’s right here”

So, you know Blackwomen of all ages are my specialty so I couldn’t wait to talk to her. Was I surprised to meet an intelligent beautiful Black woman with no make-up and all natural hair!

She was matriarch to a family of beautiful Black girls. Four of them. No boys though. I told her every Blackwoman needs to have, at least, one son, so keep trying. But her girls were all clean, neat and well-groomed. And the one riding shotgun had a peeled tangerine in her hand! So, you know I mentioned something about that. I love seeing Black people eating fruits and vegetables.

She told me they had just picked them off of somebody’s tree and they had a whole bunch of them. Do you know how rare it is to get fruit fresh off the tree? I had to have one and I ain’t to proud to beg for something that’s going to give me life. They blessed me with a hand-picked tangerine. And I am eternally grateful. You know how hungry I was!

So, then this Sister who had been sitting in her car across the street came over and one of the girls greeted her. I handed her my Message To The Blackman in America and she walked around to the other side of the car. I was like pass my book right on back to me through the window, Sister.

They get you in Nawlins. Somebody got me for my tablet/bluetooth keyboard and my cell phone (two different people) at the same time. So you cannot let them touch your stuff. They will casually walk away and you won’t realize it’s gone until after they are. LOL

But I don’t trip too hard on material stuff. It’s easily replaceable. I look at it as charity. 

The first pillar of Islam is BELIEF IN ALLAH.

The second pillar of Islam is PRAYER.

The third pillar of Islam is CHARITY.

The fourth is FASTING.

And the fifth is PILGRIMAGE.

So, I didn’t trip yesterday when, after they had left, I was sitting across the street in Tuba Fats Square and the O/G walked off with my Miles Davis autobiography. I was a little disappointed that I had got got yet again, but at least it was by a O/G.

I looked at it as fine-tuning my hood survival skills.

But the next thing I know I see him coming around the corner with my book in hand.

I was eternally grateful because I really wanted to finish reading it. And I ordered that one online before I became homeless, so it would be hard finding an address that it could be shipped to.

So, I’m sitting there chilling with the frienemies (because you can’t trust nobody), and this Brother catches my attention. He was carrying a black bag. The O/G tells me he’s a trumpet player. And I love musicians, so he gets in this car and I run up to see if he has an embouchere and he has a little one.

Next thing I know another Brother with a trumpet comes up but he doesn’t have any valves. So, I ask him where are his valves? He starts getting real defensive. I can’t help it. I have a degree in broadcast journalism and am naturally inquisitive.

But I saw him later and he had put them back in.

So, I’m just chilling with the homies and Lucille and they put up a sign on the house directly across the street from the Candlelight.

Soon after, music starts playing.

Then I see this guy with a plate of take-out and I’m still hungry so I go up to him to see what he’s eating and ask about where he got it.

Then this big guy gets out the car and acts like they’re supposed to be sharing the food. I was like two grown me sharing ONE plate of food? Then another guy comes up and I figure it’s about me more than the food so I walked away.

After the other two left I went back and I asked him if I could have some french fries. So he reaches in, grabs a few and hands them to me. I thought about I don’t know WHERE his hands have been so I asked could I get them myself. He said he doesn’t know where MY hands have been. I said, “I have on gloves!”

He still said no. So, I asked him to save me some but I think he wanted us to eat together so he was like, Nah.

So, the guy with the trumpet was sitting there with me and O/G and another guy comes up, picks up the trumpet and starts to blow. Man, Allah Chose the right instrument to usher in the judgement because things started happening and he wasn’t even really playing!

Then I see the big guy with a Tuba and the next thing I know music is coming from the street in front of the house with the sign.

You think it’s a big deal to sing Happy Birthday Stevie Wonder style at your birthday party! These brothers swung it like I had never heard before (or never paid attention to) Then they started playing some song right up my alley about EDUCATION and BUILDING OUR NATION, so O/G turned his “Security” jacket inside out and let me wear it and we walked over to the music.

Now, cars had been coming down the street and I figured the band would just move and let the cars through but when I got there I realized how DISRESPECTFUL that was of the musicians and I stood in front of the cars and wouldn’t let them through.

Some of the women were trying to get me to move out of the way to let the cars through. I said, “No, make them back up!” 

So, I started waving my hands gesturing for the cars to back up and do you know they all backed up?!!!!!?

I’m from South Central too. You know how we do!

So, then the band could start moving down the street like a Second Line is supposed to.

The trombone player had his little girl on his shoulder, and I danced up the street next to them, waving my Message to the Blackman.

The sign had said, “Happy Birthday” so I’m thinking the Brother up front in the wheelchair, giving directions is celebrating his birthday. So, I go up to him and try to hand him my Message To The Blackman and telling him to Google it but he wouldn’t even look at it.

So, the Second Line returns to the house and the band goes inside the Candlelight, but I didn’t want to go inside because I had seen some devils in there. So, some people were still out in the street and this car pulls up. Again, I stand in front of it and tell the driver to back up. He wouldn’t move.

Next thing I know, the Brother in the wheelchair rolls up and starts telling me to move. I said, “No! Make him back up!” Then he starts talking about how he paid for all this. I didn’t get it. I said, “All what?” But he didn’t say. He said the birthday party was for his Brother or somebody who had gotten killed a few years ago. I don’t understand why they have birthday parties for dead people. Yes I do. They think the dead person is up in the sky somewhere and can see them having a party. But death settles it all. Anyway, he just kept trying to get me to move. So I started showing him my Message To The Blackman and he said, “Man I don’t care about that!” and reaches toward his waist.

I still wouldn’t budge. Then he reaches toward his waist again. I’m not afraid of nothing so I didn’t move.

Then the band comes back outside and the car couldn’t move. 

I started dancing in the street in front of the car and the wheelchair guy rolls on across the street.

I think he would’ve shot me if Allah didn’t have power over all things.

So, that was about it.

I still didn’t like that devil being so involved in our stuff.

They tried to tell me he owned the park I was sitting in. Even called him over to make me leave. He didn’t do nothing.

I know why Black people are so afraid of devils but with the help of Allah, Islam will remove that fear from them.

Thank you for reading.

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum

❤ ❤ ❤