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Legacy
se7en
02/24/04 at 16:55:21
Legacy
by Shazia Ahmad
MSA University at Albany


While doing some research on African Muslims enslaved in the Americas, two stories struck me particularly deeply:

Umar ibn Said was an African Muslim writer from Pulo who was enslaved on a rice plantation in South Carolina in the early 19th century.  Shortly after running away, he was captured while praying, and thrown into jail.  Finding some coal in the ashes in his cell, he filled the walls with Arabic writing, asking for release.  He caught the attention of a general from Wilmington, NC, who  purchased him, and he lived the rest of his life as a house servant and gardener.

Ibrahim Abd-ar Rahman was a prince, the son of the leader of Futa Jalon, who was captured in jihad.  As a young man in Africa he was lauded by his tutors for his intelligence, and sent to various centers of learning to further his education.  Having memorized the Quran by age 11, he went on to become a full fledged faqih [jurist], and acquired aptitude in at least six languages.  He lived the vast majority of his life as a slave on a plantation in Natchez, Mississippi.


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Dear Umar
Named after he who made even the devil quiver
Your nobility knows no bounds.
Dignity was your raiment
When they stripped you on the Middle Passage
And you lay in the belly of the whale
Though the transgression was theirs.
The New World greeted you on Atlantic shores
Only to shackle you to her fields.
Once trapped in a four walled prison,
You have tasted the sweetest freedom
That dark souls are unfit to capture.
From your hands flowed smooth Arabic letters
Elegant shadows on crude walls
The results of which only the Divine had portent.
Your call was heard by He who liberates hearts
and your chamber was opened.

My prince, my brother Ibrahim
Named after our father, the father of nubuwwa
How could they be blind to your distinguished rank?
Orator of six tongues, literary master,
Mastered over by deep southern tyrants.
Man of honor now a beast of burden
Back bent in labor some twenty odd years
While your soul nourished gardens of 'Ilm.
This land absorbed your blood and tears and sweat
And I stand in the shadow of your strength.

Their dark clouds could not overwhelm
The vastness of your inner sky
And from your story, I find my place.


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