Page 2 The Islamic Bulletin Volume XXX No. 30 so in this self-deluded state, I was thrust into an environment that I was totally unprepared to deal with. On July 21, 1991, I arrived at my first unit of assignment, the Clemens Unit in Brazoria, Texas. This unit was nicknamed the “Burning Hell.” My first cell partner called himself Mac-T. He attempted to lay down the rules of the cell immediately: 1- take off your shoes before entering the cell, 2- clean the floor before you leave the cell, and 3- no noise when he is praying. Thinking that I was tough, I really did not try to listen to what he was saying. So needless to say, we did not stay in the cell together longer than a day. Only in later years did I learn that he was a Muslim. Soon after that, I started to assimilate into the prison culture: fighting, stealing, gangbanging, and getting drunk at every chance. Anything to try to forget my wasted life and shattered dreams. I left Clemens in December of 1991 so that I could attend college at the Hughes Unit in Gatesville, Texas. My journey was just beginning. Upon my arrival at the Hughes Unit, I immediately recognized the complete difference in the environment. Where as in Clemens everyone was about the same age as me, in this new unit most people were 15 to 20 years older than I was. My reputation preceded me to Hughes, so I was forced to live up to it. A few of the older men saw what I was doing and tried to warn me that this was not the way to do my time. Nonetheless, the cycle that I had started in Clemens came back in full swing. I fought a lot, drank a lot, and did everything I could do to break the rules of an establishment that I saw as corrupt. In 1993 when my father died, my life spiraled completely out of control. In my eyes, I had nothing to live for – my one source of stability was gone. It was during this time that I met three brothers who would have a huge impact on my life. One was named Yaqub, another Kareem, and the other Wadi. These were three of the most disciplined people I had ever met. They were devout Muslims whose sole purpose in life was to please God. Often times, they would invite me to the Islamic services, but with my gangster persona and corrupted mentality, I would decline and go on about my mischief. By this time, I considered myself an atheist. The only thing I worshipped was power; the only thing I believed in was myself. It was in that state that I was to meet a young man who would inspire me to return to the one thing that had been missing from my life for years: God. It was 1995, and I was working in the kitchen as a diet cook. My job was to ensure that the food was up to dietary standards and that each person on the approved list received their tray during mealtime. My assistant was a young man named Haywood. He was a Muslim and went by the name Mustafa. We were good friends and would talk about everything: politics, education, and even religion. And so one day, while he was studying, I asked him what he was reading. He replied, “This does not have anything to do with drinking or killing – you wouldn’t be interested.” I bothered him until he finally let me see what it was that he was studying: he was teaching himself Arabic. When he asked if I knew what it was and I said yes, he didn’t believe me. I told him that I had seen it when I was introduced to Islam in 1984. I told him that I could even learn it if he taught me the letters. He said, “NO WAY!” so I tried to bet him that I could learn it, but he told me that Muslims do not gamble. Physically Confined but Spiritually Free In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, Most Merciful. You hear many times about men entering prison and accepting the religion of Islam. Some say that it is a unique phenomenon particular to the black inmate population, male as well as female. The truth of the matter is that many prisoners of diverse backgrounds make the reversion to Islam. My story is only one of many. It is written not to draw attention to myself; rather, it is written as a testimony to what faith in Allah can do to a person physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I pray that my story inspires others to study the signs of the Creator so that they may recognize the Truth and live in accordance with it. I was first introduced to Islam in 1984. At that time, I was only a boy of 11 years and did not understand what exactly I was hearing. I was told that Muslims pray to only one God and do not eat pork. I was also told that Islam is a religion truly for the black race and that any other race could never really be Muslim. All of this was strange to me. I was raised in a Baptist family and was taught that the only way that I could be saved was to believe in Jesus while also recognizing that the only way that I could talk to God was by praying to Jesus. I was told that I was a sinful person by nature and that the only way that I could be purified was through the “blood of Christ.” These contradictory philosophies only served to confuse my young mind even more. So in response to this mental onslaught, I chose to ignore both. During my teenage years I attended neither church, mosque, nor any other type of religious institution. Instead, I devoted myself to preparing for my worldly future: I dedicated myself to my country. I entered the ROTC (Reserve Officers Training Corps) program at my high school and excelled. I was told that there was no greater calling than to stand up and fight for one’s country. To this ideal, I put forth all of my efforts. It was also during this time that I started to fall prey to street life. I soon gained a reputation as a tough guy, and while it earned me a lot of respect from others on the streets, it also led to my downfall. On August 26, 1990 I was arrested and charged with “aggravated assault with a deadly weapon” as well as “accessory to murder.” Being highly publicized, my case sent shockwaves through the community. Most of my co-defendants were good students who were expected to succeed in whatever they chose to do. Thus, many people were baffled as to how all of this happened. In September of that year, our charges were upgraded to “organized crime conspiracy to commit murder” and “organized crime murder.” I was then placed in solitary confinement because I was considered a threat to the security of the institution. In April 1991, I was formally sentenced to 20 years in prison for the part I played in those crimes. I would like to think that I was a man at that time; but in reality, I was still a boy trying to act like a man. And An American Inmate’s Journey to Islam
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