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Malik Freeman had been born Malcolm Freeman and named after Malcolm X. His brother had been named Martin after Martin Luther King, Junior. They had grown up close and loved each other dearly unlike the other siblings in their neighborhood. When the other siblings fought, they found it disgusting and would leave them if they weren't allowed to negotiate peace between them. They were two years apart in age and hung out like they were twins, so one's friends were friends of both of them. Each one had taken beatings for the other, and both of them had taken up for the other holding deadly weapons against the enemies in the other's defense. Martin had pulled a blade on someone in the hallway of school for grabbing Malcolm's behind, and Malcolm had actually stabbed the same guy later on for arguing with Martin about him taking up for Malcolm. The guy had been thee years older than Martin, five older than Malcolm, and he had the nerve to say something about it being unfair. When Malcolm stabbed him, he told the guy, who was named Jonathan Moore, "We're right and you're wrong. As long as you lose it's a fair fight." Jonathan looked up at them with pain and desperate fear as Malcolm addressed him. "You even look at him wrong again, I'll kill you and hack your body. That's twice what I'll do if you just mess with me alone." Then he kicked Jonathan so hard in the stab wound that he passed out from the pain and still writhed on the ground in his unconsciousness. "Y'all know he was wrong, so y'all better say it was self-defense and get me off!" He told his schoolmates who had witnessed it. He didn't go to jail even for a night. He was in holding for two hours when he was released without charges. Jonathan recovered over the next month.
Martin went to college and Malcolm planned to join him at the same college two years later. But he ended up having to go to a different school in another state. There, he did a paper his freshman year on the life of his namesake, Malcolm X. The religious dimension of Malcolm X's life stood out for the the first time in Malcolm Freeman's attention. He finished the paper and turned it in, but he then continued reading about Islam itself, as it was only then Malcolm had seemed to brave death. And then he learned the difference between Black nationalism and Al-Islam. One was an ethnic movement that reached out to other non-white ethnicities with an olive branch. The other was a universal religion that opposed oppression across all ethnic lines, even oppression of other species. No killing of even a sparrow without eating it. A deity, Allah, who had not neglected any creation of His. A deity that had warned Pharaoh through Moses, then strengthened Moses and humiliated Pharaoh, even denying Pharaoh the chance to repent at the last second and escape the consequences of his sins.
He had a dream about the day of judgment. Unlike in the Christian expectation of it, the people were naked but they didn't notice each other's nakedness, and yet they were in the flesh. Their skins and everything down to the fingerprints had been reassembled, and they came out of the open graves saying things like they were still unaware they had died. Others said things like they were awaking from the same nightmare in the graves themselves. The next night he had a dream about a select few of the people on Judgment Day. Their graves were open but their bodies never exited until these green birds flew down into the graves, and their bodies weren't being reassembled because they had never disintegrated. When they came out of the graves, their faces were shining, their wounds still bleeding, and their clothes still attached to them. They smelled abnormally good as though they had been perfumed and had never died. They recognized each other and were so elated at the sight of one another, that they shone even more from their faces. They began to gush with happy speech about this day that was so stressful for everyone else, and they began to discuss with each other their relatives for whom they would intercede. When the people were assembled, these select men and women were reclining under the only canopy that provided shade, and the judgment went painfully slow for everyone except them. Malcolm saw Malcolm X in this select group and he asked another of the select group about him. "Who are you all, and how did he get to be among you?"
"Martyrs for Allah's cause, and martyrdom. Allah gave us steadfastness to fight in His cause and we died in that state. Our deaths were a minor discomfort, and we have been alive and blissful ever since. You see how quickly the others are being judged? To them it feels like 50,000 years. But we will enter Paradise in less than the time we can offer three prayers. Step out there among the others and see the difference!" Then the man pushed Malcolm out of the shade and into the thronging mass of people who were sweating in stress and fear. He heard consistent arguing and begging between those who were not yet being judged, and he felt a great heat from the sun overhead and a growing heat from an another approaching sun, dragged by angels holding chains with which they pulled using great effort. They were straining, but it seemed to get no closer except that the heat from it was growing. Then they began to hear that sun crackling as it spit sparks the size of logs, and in less than a minute the crackling had grown to a roaring, angry sound. Then the sight of it became clearer even from a distance and the people's panic became more pronounced as they begged one another for good deeds. It wasn't a sun, but it felt a lot warmer and its appearance was actually of a valley that had been set ablaze and filled with lava. Some people were being thrown into it without even being judged, grabbed by very tall men in robes who seemed to delight in the crying pleas of the damned. The tall robed men were offered everything, but they seemed to be able to hear only each other asking for help grabbing the selected victims.
And the time dragged on as they were ushered into lines and judged singly, each line being designated by a symbol or an idol. Malcolm was in a line behind a giant cross and Jesus was standing away from the cross telling the people "Don't ask me for intercession, for I am scared before Allah after the people have lied and said I am He! If you must ask for intercession, Muhammad is more worthy than I." A voice was heard from a giant courtroom asking him, "Did you tell the people to worship you and your mother?" Jesus answered back fearfully, but directly and vehemently and with conviction, "No, it wasn't right for me to say something of that nature." He denied saying all of that and disassociated himself from all worship of him. "It's so different here than from under the shade," said Malcolm to himself and he realized that the shade was from a giant throne, the top of which was shining but covered by a giant veil. As he noticed this in astonishment, his last physical perception in the dream was of a great thirst and the lack of water. He had been sweating so much he was covered in it up to his knees and it was rising quickly. "How do I get back up there with you and Malcolm?" he shouted from a parched throat to the man he had spoken to who was still under the canopy, shaded, now drinking from a cup. The man turned back and said to him as he held up one finger after another, "Rejecting all deities except for Allah, praying to Allah at the right times, charity, chastity, repentance, fighting in Allah's cause and remaining steadfast until death overtakes you. You will then remain alive even after death, and will not want to come back to this world except to die again."
Then he woke up in his bed, covered in sweat and still thirsty. He was never the same, and he went to a Christian in the cafeteria at breakfast and told him about the dream. He got to the point about Jesus refusing to intercede and the Christian interrupted him and said authoritatively "The dream was from Satan. Jesus is the only intercession and the only savior. The Father does not save, he only judges. The Son saves and forgives and that is how God the Father exempts someone from judgment and hellfire. He can't forgive without His son's blood applied to that person's account, He just can't do it." As the Christian kept talking, Malcolm somehow perceived that this guy had no clue what he was talking about. What could prevent God from forgiving without bloodshed? He owned everything, and he could throw a saint into hell and a sinner into paradise if He chose, He just did not choose to do so and said He would not. If no one was going to judge God because he was absolute judge and owner, then who could prevent Him from forgiving without bloodshed of an innocent Messiah? No one!
"Malcolm, I overheard that church fellow telling you about that dream this morning," said Miles. "Look, I don't interpret dreams, but can you tell me the rest of it? Someone I know might have an interpretation of it." Malcolm began where the Christian had interrupted him. He saw the look on Miles' face, whose eyes were welling up. "That's exactly the Islamic understanding of Judgment Day. No water, no shade except Allah's throne, no court except Allah's. How long ago did you read the Qur'an?"
"I haven't yet."
"Then where did you get this?"
"I just dreamt it. I've been reading about Islam, but not the Qur'an yet. I don't have one."
Miles gave Malcolm a copy later that day in their English class and by the Thanksgiving break, Malcolm had been convinced that Islam was the final revelation from Allah. He read the passages and the prophetic sayings about Judgment Day, and that was when he began making the five daily prayers, even before he took shahada.
It was at the end of the school year when he told his parents and Martin about his conversion, which was a bombshell. Then Martin told them he had become ordained as a minister in the Baptist church, following in their grandfather's footsteps who was an AME bishop. It was only Malcolm's conversion that distressed the parents. Martin was not distressed or hostile towards his brother, but he did say that while their parents weren't overtly religious, they at least hadn't given up the cross altogether. "Try to get your cross before time runs out," he told Malcolm. "But I still love you as my brother, and I'd still fight to help you like before." But the parents had been openly disappointed in him.
"It's not like I converted to homosexuality!" he exclaimed to them.
But as time went on, Martin would jokingly test Malcolm's limits. At first, he merely wanted to make sure that Malcolm didn't lose his sense of humor, which could be a sign of a cult mentality normally followed by distancing oneself from one's own family. Malcolm passed that test, joking back with Martin. "What do you mean praying to my rug? I pray on my rug, you pray to a cross! Hey, what does the cross tell you, huh? You should be able to hear something as often as you pray to it."
Their dad would often joke as well, but he was more respectful than Martin was. Three times he made remarks about how Martin and Malcolm had gone the way of men after whom they were named. The third time, Malcolm had just changed his name to Malik, like his namesake. This was when Martin stepped up his testing of his brother. He began to pressure him to share drinks with him. "Try this tea, Brother Shabazz," he'd say while offering a glass of liquor. Hey, Brother Minister, can I get that white girl's phone number for you? She might make a good concubine, brothah!" he spat one night while he was drinking with their cousin. "You know you can't be a good Muslim without a white woman!"
"I don't think he's that kind of Muslim," said their cousin. "We've never seen him in a bow tie selling bean pies and hawking the Final Call."
"Whatever kind of Muslim he is, it's the kind that took my brother away from me!" he slurred angrily, nursing his bottle.
"Sever not the blood ties," Malik quoted. "Have I ever turned away from you or our family? What did I do to distance myself from any of us?"
"You sit here and drink water and tea, like you're too good to drink with us. We talk about women, you talk about marriage. We meet for Thanksgiving dinner, you refuse to even pass the ham! Like you some saint!" And then, despite his ordination into the ministry and his status as a preacher, Martin swore at Malik and then said "Muhammad ain't never done a damn thang for me! Matter of fact-"
"Before you go any further, Martin, are you gonna something bad about him and insult him directly?"
"Yeah, why? You gonna do like the others and blow me up?"
"I'll settle for whipping your behind instead, but I am supposed to cut or blow off your head if you make fun of him or insult him. Now, if you refrain from that, then we're just two siblings who disagr-"
"See, that's why you all are some punks, and your religion is a pagan religion! Y'all get mad because people don't want your moon god and s__!"
"Martin, you haven't said one thing right about it since you started on that alcohol. You're lucky I even stay at the same table when you start drinking, let alone when you talk like this. So listen carefully. I've sat with you even when you start drinking because you're my family. Anyone else I'd have walked off from as soon as they ask for some alcohol to drink. I made an exception for you I shouldn't have. Not because I don't love you, but because I'm not gonna send you any mixed messages any more. I'm gonna go home and when you feel better, I'll sat back down with you."
"Oh! Oh! You gonna wait till I feel better?! What that mean? I feel great right now, you Wahhabi-actin' a__ Arab-wannabe niggah!" Then he threw some of his drink at Malik's shirt. The restaurant got quiet. The tension and silence was tangible. Malik remembered a hadith that Jesus was mild mannered and advised turning the other cheek when hit, while Moses was harsh and advised retaliatory punches when hit. The companions of Muhammad asked which was right for them, and he answered "Which ever is best for Islam at the time." So just as Malik was about to back-slap Martin with his ring hand and imprint the crescent on his brother's cheek, a waiter ran up and asked to please leave quietly. Martin would have turned on him, but their cousin grabbed Martin and dragged him out.
"I'll give you a buzz tomorrow," he said to Malik lovingly as he forcefully walked a cursing Martin out. "I'll drive him home. You should have the time you need to cool off. I know he's gotten on your nerves."
Malik nodded and left.
The next afternoon, when Martin got back to his parent's home, Malcolm was in the TV room saying his prayer. He knew Martin was home, but he was concentrating on his prayer to his Lord. Martin, now sober, still hadn't changed his attitude. Malik was now in his last cycle of the prayer when Martin started saying in different voices and accents "I am Malcolm X!"
"See, that was kind of funny! But I was praying, though," Malik said when he was done. "F__ yo' prayer, niggah!" Martin said venomously. He remembered what he had said while drunk, and was unrepentant while sober.
So Malik stood up and then drew his pistol from under his shirt. "See, that?! It wasn't funny! That was some serious talk right there! F my prayers, you say?" The sight of his pistol shocked Martin into a wide-eyed silence. It had a silencer attached to its muzzle, which meant that Malik had screwed it on in preparation and he meant business. "Now say something else smart, niggah! SAY IT! I DARE YOU!" he screamed, holding the pistol by his side.
"Why you carry a gun? You need one to be a Muslim? You can't worship without carrying a weapon? You fittin' all the stereotypes now!"
"Prepare all you can in the way of power!" quoted Malik again. "This is power, Martin! Weapons are power! They can be used to break laws or enforce them. I choose to enforce the righteous laws when need be, starting in my own backyard! Do you wish to say something that you can't take back?"
"I'm your brother! Put that gun away?"
"You were my brother til you made fun of Allah's signs and set your mouth to insult Muhammad. If you said something about Jesus or Moses, I'd have this gun out and ready to hospitalize you if not bury you myself. If you were my brother, you wouldn't put me in this situation."
"Man, I'd be a coward if I said I was just playing, but I still don't deserve this!"
"Why not? You encourage me to drink and fornicate and do everything you know or even just think a Muslim shouldn't do, don't you?" After a silence, "Don't you!" Malik screamed as he began to walk outside to the backyard with his free hand on Martin's shoulder to walk him out with him.
"I'm sorry, I was wrong. And not because you have that gun. I was just wrong, period. I shouldn't have."
"And since you confess, let me ask you why you don't encourage me to to do crack or weed."
"Cause it's against the law, and I'd go to jail for encouraging you."
"Against the law? Whose law?"
"I know what you mean, but I ain't talkin' 'bout Shariah law or whatever you call it."
"Then whose law, niggah?"
"US law, Florida law, man! Laws of the land!"
"And who is superior, the US or Florida?"
"The US!"
"And who is superior? The Lord or the US?"
"The Lord, it's a no-brainer for both osf us!" replied Martin anxiously. By now, they were in the backyard.
"Then why should you encourage me to break Allah's law and obey the laws of the people? Allah isn't just better than the people and it's government, He owns it all! So his law supercedes, and I mean what I say when I tell you the laws of the land can go to hell when they clash with Allah's laws. They ain't gonna judge me after death or forgive me. Or you! The real reason you and everyone else say to obey the human laws and not the divine laws is because the Shariah has no power of enforcement here. You've never looked down the barrel of a gun for breaking the shariah, even though it's part of your own beliefs. But if you're my brother, you'll at least respect my following the shariah, even if it means treason against the US or Florida. 'Cause when the Romans didn't care about the Jews violating the commandments, Jesus still kicked over the table and drove out the money-changers and shop owners with a deadly weapon! And when the Romans were gonna come for him in the garden of Gethsemane, he had a sword to fight them off at first. That's religion with teeth, and a true religion deserves that! If you get in the way of that where my life is concerned, you must not love me at all no matter how much I love you! So, Martin! Are you my brother?!"
"Yes!"
"Then don't ever make fun of any part of Islam or any of Allah's prophets. Ever! You can tease me personally, but that's not the same. You understand the difference?"
"Clear as day."
Then Malik produced Martin's mid-sized wooden crucifix from
beneath his shirt. It was one that Martin normally kept on his bedroom wall.
"I'll never do this again, Martin, because there's no compulsion to make you
embrace my religion, but this one time, I'm doing this." Then, he threw the
crucifix away from them and shot through it three times, splintering the wood.
The report was so muffled by the silencer that there was no hope of any
neighbors hearing anything above the sounds of the birds chirping. "Martin, the
difference between our religions is that yours has been tampered with so it
calls for justice but no power. Ours has been protected as the final revelation,
so it calls for justice with power to enforce it. There is no other
revelation coming after it, so there's a Shariah, and that's what your bible
calls the fiery law that shall come from Paran. Don't get in its way again. I'm
gonna be a good brother to you, but the fact is Islam is revealed
to dominate and not be dominated.
Forever."
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