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Need to buy a hookah link Source global Wall Street Journal     time 2021-09-24 17:49:05
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  But the middle-Harlem narcotics force found so many ways to harass me that I had to change my area.

  From Beirut, I flew back to Cairo, and there I took a train to Alexandria, Egypt. I kept my camera busyduring each brief stopover. Finally I was on a plane to Nigeria.

  The _Mutawaf_'s aide returned, indicating that I should go with him. He pointed from our tier downat the mosque and I knew that he had come to take me to make the morning prayer, El Sobh, alwaysbefore sunrise. I followed him down, and we passed pilgrims by the thousands, babbling languages, everything but English. I was angry with myself for not having taken the time to learn more of theorthodox prayer rituals before leaving America. In Elijah Muhammad's Nation of Islam, we hadn'tprayed in Arabic. About a dozen or more years before, when I was in prison, a member of theorthodox Muslim movement in Boston, named Abdul Hameed, had visited me and had later sent meprayers in Arabic. At that time, I had learned those prayers phonetically. But I hadn't used them since.

  What astonished me even more-a telegram had been sent to every New York City newspaper andradio and television station. It was the most quick and thorough publicity job that I had ever seen theChicago officials initiate.

  It astonished me that Shorty didn't care to go and hear the big bands play. He had his alto sax idol,Johnny Hodges, with Duke Ellington's band, but he said he thought too many young musicians wereonly carbon-copying the big-band names on the same instrument. Anyway, Shorty was really seriousabout nothing except his music, and about working for the day when he could start his own littlegroup to gig around Boston.

  Mr. Muhammad and I embraced each other in greeting. I sensed some ingredient missing from hisusual amiability. And I was suddenly tense-to me also very significant. For years, I had prided myselfthat Mr. Muhammad and I were so close that I knew how he felt by how I felt. If he was nervous, Iwas nervous. If I was relaxed, then I knew he was relaxed. Now, I felt the tension. . . .

  Spinoza impressed me for a while when I found out that he was black. A black Spanish Jew. The Jewsexcommunicated him because he advocated a pantheistic doctrine, something like the "allness ofGod," or "God in everything." The Jews read their burial services for Spinoza, meaning that he wasdead as far as they were concerned; his family was run out of Spain, they ended up in Holland, Ithink.

  The first letter was, of course, to my wife, Betty. I never had a moment's question that Betty, afterinitial amazement, would change her thinking to join mine. I had known a thousand reassurances thatBetty's faith in me was total. I knew that she would see what I had seen-that in the land of Muhammadand the land of Abraham, I had been blessed by Allah with a new insight into the true religion ofIslam, and a better understanding of America's entire racial dilemma.


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