Pakistanis. And so on. I tucked it into my mind that when I returned home I would tell Americans
this observation; that where true brotherhood existed among all colors, where no one felt
segregated, where there was no "superiority" complex, no "inferiority" complex-then voluntarily,
naturally, people of the same kind felt drawn together by that which they had in common.
It is my intention that by the time of my next Hajj pilgrimage, I will have at least a working
vocabulary of Arabic. In my ignorant, crippled condition in the Holy Land, I had been lucky to have
met patient friends who enabled me to talk by interpreting for me. Never before in my life had I felt
so deaf and dumb as during the times when no interpreter was with me to tell me what was being
said around me, or about me, or even to me, by other Muslims-before they learned that "the
Muslim from America" knew only a few prayers in Arabic and, beyond that, he could only nod and
smile.
Behind my nods and smiles, though, I was doing some American-type thinking and reflection. I
saw that Islam's conversions around the world could double and triple if the colorfulness and the
true spiritualness of the Hajj pilgrimage were properly advertised and communicated to the
outside world. I saw that the Arabs are poor at understanding the psychology of non-Arabs and
the importance of public relations. The Arabs said "insha Allah" ("God willing")-then they waited
for converts. Even by this means, Islam was on the march, but I knew that with improved public
relations methods the number of new converts turning to Allah could be turned into millions.
Constantly, wherever I went, I was asked questions about America's racial discrimination. Even
with my background, I was astonished at the degree to which the major single image of America
seemed to be discrimination.
In a hundred different conversations in the Holy Land with Muslims high and low, and from around
the world-and, later, when I got to Black Africa-I don't have to tell you never once did I bite my
tongue or miss a single opportunity to tell the truth about the crimes, the evils and the indignities
that are suffered bythe black man in America. Through my interpreter, I lost no opportunity to
advertise the American black man's real plight. I preached it on the mountain at Arafat, I preached
it in the busy lobby of the Jedda Palace Hotel. I would point at one after another-to bring it closer
to home; "You... you... you-because of your dark skin, in America you, too, would be called
'Negro.' You could be bombed and shot and cattle-prodded and fire-hosed and beaten because of
your complexions."
As some of the poorest pilgrims heard me preach, so did some of the Holy World's most
important personages. I talked at length with the blue-eyed, blond-haired Hussein Amini, Grand
Mufti of Jerusalem. We were introduced on Mt. Arafat by Kasem Gulick of the Turkish Parliament.
Both were learned men; both were especially well-read on America. Kasem Gulick asked me why
I had broken with Elijah Muhammad. I said that I preferred not to elaborate upon our differences,
in the interests of preserving the American black man's unity. They both understood and accepted
that.
I talked with the Mayor of Mecca, Sheikh Abdullah Eraif, who when he was a journalist had
criticized the methods of the Mecca municipality-and Prince Faisal made him the Mayor, to see if
he could do any better. Everyone generally acknowledged that Sheikh Eraif was doing fine. A
filmed feature "The Muslim From America" was made by Ahmed Horyallah and his partner Essid
Muhammad of Tunis' television station. In America once, in Chicago, Ahmed Horyallah had
interviewed Elijah Muhammad.
The lobby of the Jedda Palace Hotel offered me frequent sizable informal audiences of important
men from many different countries who were curious to hear the "American Muslim." I met many
Africans who had either spent some time in America, or who had heard other Africans' testimony
about America's treatment of the black man. I remember how before one large audience, one
cabinet minister from Black Africa (he knew more about world-wide current eventsthan anyone
else I've ever met) told of his occasionally traveling in the United States, North and South,
deliberately not wearing his national dress. Just recalling the indignities he had met as a black
man seemed to expose some raw nerve in this highly educated, dignified official. His eyes blazed
in his passionate anger, his hands hacked the air: "Why is the American black man so complacent
about being trampled upon? Why doesn't the American black man fight to be a human being?"
darsice
(darsice)
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