Monday, December 24, 2018

The 2018 BIG End of Year List of Muslim Fiction Plus by Author & Educator Umm Juwayriyah & Juwayriyah Ayed



   Another year wrapping up and gratefully we were able to put together another fantastic list of Muslim fiction by Muslim authors to showcase their talent, creativity, and dedication to authentic Muslim narratives. I've said it a millions and enshallah, I hope that I am able to keep saying it and keep spreading it and pushing it: Muslim fiction by Muslim authors is necessary. It's not easy work. It's not an easy sell to get the traditional publishing world to see us and our stories as necessary. So this list and others like it have become vital platforms for marketing our strength and diversity to the Muslim world and non Muslim world alike. 

Juwayriyah and I are appreciative to all of the Muslim authors on this list! Thank you for writing your stories and sharing and networking with us at Author & Educator Umm Juwayriyah & #MuslimGirlsRead. Enshallah, I wish us all a successful and creative new year. 
Your 2018 Muslim Authors and Stories are here:




#1 Expendable by Sahar AbdulAziz
Tethered to a man perfectly willingly to destroy her sanity, Bella must somehow find the strength within herself to leave and never look back. Logan appears to all who know him as a charming and adoring husband, yet behind closed doors, a dangerous, darker side emerges. To his circle of unsuspecting friends, he is the master of his destiny. To the trail of broken women left behind, a cruel and callous monster. But to his family and most of all Bella, he remains an inescapable and recurring nightmare. Trapped, isolated, and unable to seek help, Bella plots her escape, but time, as well as opportunity are quickly running out.
















#2 Because of H.E.R by Jamilah F. Bashir, M.Ed

Growing up with a sibling that has a disability is not easy. At times Jamilah felt frustrated, sad, and embarassed of her little sister Aasiyah and her limitations. Having to help her her tie her shoes, get dressed, and look out for her, could be overwhelming. Through the experience she grew a deep connection with her sister as her protector and friend. Jamilah's journey growing up with her sister would shape how she would impact the world in the later years. Join her as she shares her amazing story.
















#3 The Amulets of Sihr by Abu Bilaal Yakub 

Mukhtar is a young blacksmith facing everyday struggles to support himself and his widowed mother. Life is brutal and harsh, even harsher while the empire only looks after its own and the rest of the people are left to fend for themselves. In an impulsive moment Mukhtar frees four slaves from their captors.  Little does he know how this will shape his destiny. As the turmoil unfolds, his mother unveils her most guarded secret - an ancient and once powerful amulet once belonging to his long lost father. The amulet sets Mukhtar on a path to unraveling a grim and dark part of his bloodline. Now at a crossroads of good and evil, he must face his life's greatest trials in order to save the empire from annihilation.











#4 Fatima Al-Fihri - The Founder of the World's First University by Maryam Yousaf


Fatima Al Fihri, the founder of the world's first university, is about a non fiction figure from Islamic history. It is a story about a girl who wants to contribute positively to her community, this is her dream. As she grows up she is faced with loss and is left with great fortune. However, instead of dwelling on her loss or greedily keeping the fortune to herself, she decides to the extraordinary: she builds a mosque which includes a place of learning. As years go by, the mosque becomes one of the biggest centers of her time and eventually the first university in the world.








#5 Musa and the Blade by Q. Abdullah Muhammad 

In the village of Al'Aqrab there lived an orphan by the name of Musa ibn Rudainah. Shunned for what he inherited from his mother's legacy. He  was ever the target of his people's scorn and contempt. Even so, his aging grandfather, Talha, knew that Musa was the rightful heir to their legendary Ladghatul 'Aqrab, a sword whose fame and glory were known throughout the all the lands. With the countless foes plotting to get their hands on it, Talha, the current keeper of the blade, must prepare his grandson for what awaits him of impending perils and predicaments.











Chowdhury writes about the hijab from her own perspective, as a symbol of of choice and empowerment as opposed to one of oppression. Her writing provides an authentic voice, which is extremely necessary when it comes to discussion of such topics. We are in desperate need of having more genuine, witty, and sincere Muslim female voices like hers to be at the forefront of our discourse. --- Sadia Ahmed












#7 The Ducktrinors (Book  1 & 2) by Papatia Feauxzar

The world is coming to an end and Hanifa Ducktrinor can feel it. The seculars rule the world and keeping the sunnah and the deen intact became a challenge. Hanifa, the cadet of the Ducktrinor family, is a courageous young Muslim living in a time where practicing her religion is really hard. She wants to be the courageous, educated Coreishy woman she dreams of every day. When the opportunity presents itself to Hanifa  to fight for her dreams, she realizes she might have gotten in way over her head. 

Her brother Malik wants to be a teacher. He knows to be a scholar, you must have knowledge - ilm, amal - obedience to Islam, and ikhlas - doing everything to only to please Allah. Malik takes his deen seriously, but will it be enough to save the day?







In this ground breaking book about living with mental illness as an American Muslim, internationally acclaimed author, Umm Zakiyyah, shares the true story of Sakinah, "the Muslim Hippie" who thought she'd found a faith family and loving community after converting to Islam. However, as she lived with undiagnosed  bipolar disorder, her manic-depressive states led her to be ostracized, confused, and ultimately rejected and alone. 

This story gives a glimpse into the life of one Muslim woman as she finds her way from darkness of uncertainty to become a passionate mental health advocate. 





Now that Zayd had made the Gold team, he's hustling hard and loving every minute of the season. But when the team starts to struggle Zayd can't help wondering if it has something to do with him. Even worse, his best friend Adam starts acting like he doesn't care about basketball anymore, even though they are finally teammates. Does Zayd have what it takes to be on point and lead his team back to victory?













Nanni's Hijab is a story about Nanni, a little girl who loves wearing her hijab. She wears a different hijab everyday. Her classmates enjoy seeing all the the different colors and designs of Nanni's hijabs, except Leslie. Leslie doesn't like Nanni or her hijabs. She tries to bully Nanni for wearing her hijabs to school. Leslie humiliates Nanni in the school yard infront of all their of their classmates by snatching Nanni's hijab off of her head. Read about how Nanni handles her bully. 







It's anthology of writing that draws on the lived realities of Muslim women. Food and cooking, hardship and conflict, intimacy, baby-making, children, living with in-laws, and self-esteem are some of the experiences unpacked in this collection of poignant personal narratives. 













In Not Without My Hijab, DeOliveira walks you through her personal journey to self-discovery while navigating college, corporate America, and relationships. Her self-discovery leads her to create 11 steps to Reclaiming Your Faith. 

















Amongst many things, Dahumie's mom uses her imagination through mimicking small hand cymbal instruments different than hand symbols to help teach the Al-Khaliq (the Creator) attribute of Allah. Throughout the story, children learn that Allah has created all that exists. 











The year is 2085! The world has reached the end of the evolutionary continuum. In this post-evolutionary word, truth and conscience are expendable. In the atheist dominated world, right and wrong are dictated not by God or His holy books, but by an overreaching World Government Organization. It is up to Kamil and Okoye to get the four points of the Dukyarian Rectangle to stop antagonizing each other and instead work together to unpend the WGO.













A young Muslim girl spends a busy day wrapped up in her mother's colorful headscarf in this sweet and fanciful picture book. 











I Love My Hijab celebrates the beauty and diversity of the hijab! It was written to encourage young Muslim children to learn, love, and be proud of their Muslim heritage. 














Meet Yasmin! Yasmin is a spirited second grader who's always on the lookout for those "aha" moments to help her solve life's little problems. Taking inspiration from her surroundings and big imagination, she boldly faces any situation. 















Everyone in the village knows not to come near the cranky, old, monkey Rico or his precious bananas. However, after some unwanted encounters, Rico learns a life changing lesson.
















As an Indian wedding gathers a family back together, parents Rafiq and Layla must reckon with the choices their children have made. There is Hadia: their headstrong eldest daughter, whose marriage is a match of love and not tradition. Huda, the middle child determined to follow in her sister's footsteps. And lastly their estranged son, Amar, who returns to the family fold for the first time in three years to take his place as the brother of the bride. What secrets and betrayals have caused this close-knit family to fracture? 











A compilation of poems, prose, and quotes, and reflections on hope, healing, and empowerment and faith as we journey through life's trials and triumphs as we rise and fall. It invites us to listen to our heart's truth to find the peace our soul longs for and to be resilient in our pursuit of purpose and finding fulfillment. 















In this story Hadi and Sameer's mom explains having compassion to her children by underlining the universal value of having acceptance and love for others, regardless of our differences. 













Ivorian cuisine has started to gain recognition across the globe. In addition, many Ivorians are seeking restaurants to enjoy their favorite foods to enjoy their favorite traditional and street foods. Others simply want to know how to cook the foods their ancestors made. This is the cookbook for you. It's an easy to follow guide that will introduce you to Ivorian foods or quickly fall in love again.











The Forbidden Relationship illustrates the dangers of haram relationships. It offers deep insights into what a haram relationship is and why it is deemed wrong, all the while providing practical steps to on how to avoid such relationships and if need be, how to deal with the aftermath of such a relationship. It's a must read!















Ammarah thought she was ready for marriage. She'd thought the idea over for months before bringing it to her parents. Now that there is a chance that she might actually get what she wants, Ammarah is far less certain. Eaten up with anxiety over her own shortcomings and the impending challenge of altering herself to fit what a good wife should be, Ammarah has to decide what her next step will be. Will she let fear overwhelm her or will she find the courage to start her new journey?








Calling in a debt to get your granddaughter married was tacky. This time it was dangerous, too. Ibrahim Khan had devoted his life to ensuring that he was the most dangerous man in town. And now, his beloved granddaughter was the one suffering for it. Iman still couldn't understand why kicked her out! She'd forgiven him, but she was above using it in her favor. 

Adam had come to sorely regret the day Ibrahim Khan saved his life. If he'd known then that the help came with strings, he'd prayed for death, not life. 











Princess Alishba wears a VERY big crown and fancy frocks so people think she is arrogant and stuck up. In reality she longs to wear comfortable clothes like ordinary people - and her large crown actually hides a secret! Make sure you grab this book for your kids. 












Miss Never Pleased is the story of a relatable character in today's children's lives. She was naive and self-obsessed and nothing could please her. The diary belonged to a girl who longed to be perfect but failed miserably. She learns to embrace people and life with imperfections and discovers the art of living a happy life. 













Adam Lyons is a successful New Yorker who has never known his mother except that her life ended moments before his began. An unexpected letter from Pakistani grandmother sends him on a quest he didn't know he needed - a path towards satisfying his spiritual hunger. 

Iman, who lives on the opposite side of Central Park, couldnever have predicted the turns her life took. In her search for peace, she must submit to a fate she is desperate to escape.

But Max has his own plans. His entire life he has been waiting to give them what they deserve rather than what they desire. Now, he has to end things once and for all. His problem? He has to survive two life sentences to fulfill his hunger. 






A thriller about three Muslim highschool students who must uncover the conspiracies of the Sefids, a mysterious international organization. 









Zaafir is an intelligent, sports loving, and handsome guy who is adored by girls at his university. But he likes Ajlal who barely hangouts with anyone on campus. Ajlal has no interest in the popular Zaafir. She doesn't think he is a religious man at all. Fate will bring them together, but how? Read the book to find out how the mystery is solved. 














Would you help to look for a famous diamond if you knew it might cost you your life? Zaid had no idea of the danger involved when he and his sister Zahra joined with new friends, Layla and Adam, in a quest to find the missing Moon of Masarrah diamond. Their idyllic summer vacation takes many twists and turns as they rummage around Bayan house for the elusive gem. Will they succeed in solving the riddle that will led them to the long lost diamond? Or will they be scared off by dangerous enemies to stop them at all cost?








Bashirah and the Amazing Bean Pie shares a fantastic story of a multi-generational African-American Muslim family. A Ramadhan and Eid story filled with faith, food, and family.  














Support Muslim Authors & Muslim Fiction







Author & Educator Umm Juwayriyah, M.Ed






Monday, December 10, 2018

Oils & Incense Part 4 by Author & Educator Umm Juwayriyah



When Marc and Jaleel walked through the door they stopped to wipe their feet off on the door mat.  A man came walking up to them. Zuri was busy with customers but she slipped away immediately as she saw the man approaching her boss. She wanted to get there and warn Jaleel. But it was too late. The man had beaten her again.

"Mr. O'Brien," Jaleel sulked. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Chad. Really, my first name is fine.  Just call me, Chad. Can I uh call you Jaleel?"

"No! We're not friends, Mr. O'Brien. So what's up? What do you want now?"

"Fine, Mr. James. Have it your way. I am here to talk numbers. I've been authorized to make you an offer you're not going to want to turn down this time."

Marc and Zuri looked at Jaleel to see what he was going to say next. What would he be willing to do, if the numbers were actually too good to turn down?


Jaleel walked Mr. O'Brien to the back of the store and they disappeared behind the double doors. They'd gone to Jaleel's small office to speak privately. Marc and Zuri both pondered over the unscheduled meeting and what it would mean for them both. Zuri needed her job just as much as Marc. But for Marc this place was his saving grace. It was only his first day. He already felt settled and safe though. He felt like he could make it. If only Jaleel could hold on to the store.

"What you staring at me for?" Marc quipped feeling agitated. "I don't know nothing either," he finished with a softer tone.

"Don't be snappin' at me!" Zuri huffed. "Me nuh ...."

"Speak English!" Marc teased then ducked right before Zuri threw a duster towards his head. "You a hot head all right."

They both went their separate ways to finish their work. Zuri found her way back to the cash register and Marc headed to the storage room. He still had inventory to sort and stock. He wasn't sure who Mr. O'Brien was, but he knew good enough that his kind always brought bad news to these kind of neighborhoods.

***

"Mr.James, I honestly believe this is the right decision for you and the Muslims in this community! You all have done a lot of good, especially for our Somali immigrant residents. The resources you folks provide are greatly appreciated. This block would've been just another blight in the city full of drugs and hoodlums. You guys have kept it clean, prospering, and safe. Now we have a  super investor eyeing it thanks to your efforts! We can all benefit from this deal, Mr. James! I am assuring you that the city will help Heavenly Couture and the mosque relocate some where just as nice."

"That's not what we want, Mr. O'Brien! This is our block! This is where our people live. They go to school here and work and pray right here. I can't speak for the Imam, I can only speak for Heavenly Couture. We need to be here and you know it. Do you know how long it took me to buy this place? I can't just move out and start all over again. My customers would never respect me leaving the block for some....what ya'll trying to build anyway? Condos that my people won't be able to afford that will push them out the area, too," Jaleel argued as he stood up. "What exactly is this super investor trying to shovel onto Blue Hills Ave?"

"It hasn't all been decided. But a mega plaza is in the works. A big box shopping center with a movie theater and other upscale stores.  Look, I understand your concerns, Mr. James. The mayor values this community. You may not think I do, but I do as well. I want the best for all of our city residents. I helped you, just like I helped the Imam expand the mosque. But when  MGM built that casino up in Springfield, Hartford took a hit that we can't easily bounce back from with just local businesses. The mayor is adamant that this is Hartford's big chance to get back in the game and bring some real money, investments, and jobs back to the folks here on your block especially! The investor is offering you and the Imam a lot of money --- look at this offer, Mr. James! You need to take it and you need to be ready to help us relocate the mosque, too. The city is going to buy up this block and everything around it eventually. You guys won't even be able to pay the taxes, if the city decides to triple the price - and trust me, they will!  I don't want to see that happen to you folks. You're good people. I know story, Mr. James. You've overcame a lot. Heavenly Couture has done well and you should see this as the mayor's thanks to you. Help us and we're going to make sure you and your community have a decent place in the city long term. They'll be more opportunities to follow and I'll see to it that you're included, Mr. James. Just not here on Blue Hills Ave any more!"

Mr. O'Brien handed Jaleel the offer letter before he stood up, grabbed his briefcase, and headed for the door. "I'll give you a ring at end the of the week," he announced before letting himself out of the office and closing the door behind him.

Jaleel was vexed. He was in an uncomfortable situation with little wiggle room to handle it. Back in the days, he'd handled it swiftly and unmercifully. He was being bullied  by the very same professional, white collar city officials he'd worked with and paid to get Heavenly Couture off the ground. He'd followed their rules. He dotted all the i's and crossed the t's. He owned his store and paid for it with legal money. Now the city was trying to snatch it all away from him. Jaleel glanced down unto his desk at the offer letter and picked it up. He read the offer over and over again and stopped at the number each time: $300,000! That was almost triple the amount he'd paid for it just three years ago. It was a lot of money. Too much money for a old hustler to have at once he'd thought. But if the mayor was determined to get the block by any means necessary, what choice did he really have to go against a giant? Maybe  he could put Heavenly Couture on online and scale the business that way with Marc's help? It was an option. He'd have to talk to the Imam about it later tonight at the masjid. He already knew what the Imam was gonna say though.

Stand your ground for the sake of Allah.

Jaleel felt like he was always being dragged into fights. He was getting too old to keep fighting. He honestly was ready for that ease after difficulty Allah promised. He had bigger dreams. He had a wife, his mother, Zuri and Hashim to take care of. And now Marc, too. He couldn't keep fighting for everybody's causes and forsake his own blood.

"Salam. Iska Warran, habibi" A familiar voice purred in his direction as the door opened and closed. She held up a paper bag that was soiled with oil stains on the bottom of the bag probably from the containers of vegetable curry stuffed inside. Jaleel sat back in his chair and looked her up and down slowly admiring his wife, Hodan and their companionship. "Hungry?" she teased as she walked towards him seductively. Hodan unzipped her long black parka and tossed it over an empty chair to reveal a fitted gray full length dress that hugged her full hips. She paired her dress with black tall leather boots, a black leather belt,  a loose black silky hijab, and gold drop earrings.  Hodan was a charming woman in her husband's eyes. She had a round face, brown skin, and chinky dark brown eyes.  She cupped her husband's face with fingers that were stained with deep black henna, gold rings, bracelets, and the sweet scent of a land he belonged to. She lightly kissed his lips.

"Always hungry for you."

Jaleel rose from his chair, walked over to his door then locked it.

***

It was almost time for Asr prayer when Marc came back out to the front floor. He knew the shop had another few hours before closing, so he wanted to get back to the masjid up the street. He looked around for Jaleel but couldn't find him. Marc knew he had to leave him if he was going to catch the prayer on time.

"Tell Leel I'm up at the masjid. I'll be back," he informed Zuri who was sitting behind the counter reading.

"No problem," she responded without looking up to acknowledge him.

Marc was amused. He stole a full glance for the third time today as he zipped his jacket up and stuffed his hands into his pocket before he exited the store to battle the cold once again. As soon as he stepped out the door he doubled back through them again. "Hey, Zuri? You want to walk up to the masjid with me?"

Zuri slowly lifted her head up and her eyes met with Marc's. She smiled. "Yah, I would like to," she answered appreciative as she closed the book she was reading from. "Let me get my coat," she told him without her full accent before walking over to the closet and grabbing her closet.

"You think Leel will be mad at us for leaving the store like this?" Marc asked her.

"He's here. His wife is here to. They'll manage, I am certain." Zuri explained.

"Word. I didn't see her. Where they at?"

"My aunt is always around, trust that. But I am gonna lock up. Just in case they ..."Zuri's words trailed off as they both excited the doors. She locked the store and started down the street with Marc. Zuri walked in silence with Marc on the opposite side of the sidewalk. They left room between their thoughts and themselves. It was colder than she expected, but she was thankful for the fresh the air that let her clear her mind and center herself. She'd known guys like Marc before. Tough guys who loved the streets more then they loved themselves. They had no connection to their culture or their families. But many of them were also full of beauty and potential and loved unlocked. She had gambled before and lost out. It was her sin. She wouldn't fall into that same lizard hole again, enshallah. But still. Marc was intriguing and pretty and tall and Jaleel's cousin. He'd still have to prove himself worthy.

"I'll be outside after the salat waiting for you," Marc announced before he walked up the stairs and held the front door to the masjid open for Zuri.

"Okay, see you, enshallah," she said before entering and heading for the women's prayer hall.

"Enshallah."


Marc hadn't expected Zuri to come with him. He just asked for the heck of it. It was freezing outside. He didn't have a car or much money in his pockets to impress Zuri with. He suspected Zuri knew more about him than he knew about her. After all, her aunt was married to Jaleel. She was technically apart of Leel's family and he was helping her. Kinda like how Jaleel was helping him as well. Still there was something about her that he liked. She was the first Muslim woman he'd met. May be there would be more. May be he wasn't interested in meeting others. Marc was already praying his future had Zuri in it.

"Salamu alykum wa rahmatullah," the Imam offered when the prayer ended. "Brothers, before you go we have an announcement to make! Please let your family members know that tonight we'll have a small, but very important community meeting. We need you all to give us your input! We'll have a light dinner and refreshments. Please come out, child care and translations will be provided by our sister Zuri Warsame. We're going to try to get a text message out but spread the word about the meeting to other sisters and brothers in the community, enshallah. See ya'll later tonight, enshallah. Salamu alykum wa rahmatullah."

The Imam left the podium and Marc stood up to finish praying. He knew he would come back for the meeting. He wanted to know what was so important for the Imam to call an evening meeting? After he finished praying, he walked out into the hall to gather his shoes. Before Marc could sit down though, he saw Zuri with a young boy playing by the steps near the exit sign. He hurried up.

"Salamu alykum," Marc offered Zuri and the young boy. "You're a baby sitter and a translator, too? You got like umph-teen of jobs. This one of your daycare kids?"

"Yes, I have a lot of responsibilities. But this  handsome lad is Hashim. He's my son," Zuri explained before planting a kiss on her son's forehead. "He goes to school here. I try to help out as much as I can. Give salams Hash to Mr. Marc!" Zuri urged her son. The little boy looked no older than five or six. He extended his small hand as Zuri zipped up his coat and put his hat over his head.

"Salamat," the little boy offered. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Marc." Marc laughed as he shook Zuri's son's small hand. He noticed the little boy had missing teeth in his mouth

"Nice to meet you, too, little bro. You like going to school, man?" Marc asked. Hashim shook his head up and down. "That's cool. You gotta stay in school to learn everything you can." Marc instructed the little boy. If only his own father had told him the same. If only he had a chance to even meet his father, things might have been different for him.

"You ready, Marc?" Zuri asked.

"Yeah, let's get back."

Zuri had insisted on carrying her son for most of the walk. Marc watched her struggle half the way before he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Hashim out of her arms and easily hoisted the little boy into his embrace.

"I do it every day," Zuri huffed clearly out of breath and patience. "I am not weak."

"Didn't say you were." Marc responded.

"I can carry my child," Zuri quipped even though her arms were pleasantly relieved. She stretched them out and shook them.

"I saw you. The point is you shouldn't have to." Marc said turning to her.  "Besides where's your husband?"

"Really? You bold now?" Zuri fronted like she was offended. But she had wanted the opportunity to be clear and transparent with Marc. She wanted him to know her truth.

"I guess, if I need to be."

"I am very divorced. Since I was pregnant with Hashim his dad has been locked away. I take care of my boy by myself. Well, my aunt Hodan and Jaleel, they help me, too. The masjid helps too. He goes to their school part time and I homeschool him the rest and work with Imam Ousmane. It's cheaper that way."

"You waiting on him to get out?" Marc was intentionally being bold now. He knew the game. When he was locked up, most of his boys had women on the outside. They sent them letters, put money on their books, and even drove hours or took the bus to go see their men behind bars. Nobody ever came to see Marc.

"I said I was divorced. We haven't talked since I had my son. And I hope that he never ever tries to talk to me again," Zuri explained.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You don't know what he did to me."

Heavenly Couture was open and lively once again when they reached it's doors and entered. Customers were browsing the racks of merchandise, some were sitting in the back drinking tea with Jaleel, while Hodan rung up customers' orders. Hodan's lit up and she smiled brightly when Marc entered. She walked up to him, greeted him then eagerly reached for Hashim from his arms. Another woman was sitting but stood as soon as she saw Marc. She was an older woman, plumb, and wide eyed. She was dressed in traditional Somalian clothing. Marc noticed her eyes trailing his every move. He decided to go back to the storage area and finish his work for the day.

"Marc?" Jaleel called. "Hey, I wanted you meet someone."

"Oh, yeah?"

Jaleel helped the older woman up from her chair and grabbed her arm tightly as he guided her towards Marc. Tears began to wash the woman's face and she began reciting words Marc couldn't understand. He was taken aback by the whole scene. The woman was clearly emotional as she stood in front of Marc.

"This is my mother," Jaleel revealed. "She just got here in town from traveling and hanging out with some of my siblings in Minnesota. It was a long flight."

"Oh, cool. Nice to meet you, Ma'am. Does she uh speak English?" Jaleel asked noticing the blue and yellow Baati dress, long circular blue hijab, gold nose ring on her face, and black and orange henna staining hands and arms.

"Yes, I can speak the English! I am Ayaan and I am very happy to see you today, Marc! Your eyes are brighter than the moon. Just like I always hoped for you. You look very strong and tall and I know you will do well with Abdul-Jaleel, enshallah. I am very happy to see you today," the crying woman repeated.

Marc was overwhelmed. Hodan snapped a picture with her I-Phone as Ayaan hugged Marc. Zuri was holding her son and Marc could see the tears welling up in her eyes as well. Jaleel was shaking his head. He didn't want them to make a big deal out of today. He wasn't ready to tell Marc everything yet. But leave it to his Momma and Hodan to low-key throw a surprise family reunion for a man who didn't know he was family.

Marc turned back to Jaleel puzzled. "Am I missing something, Leel?"

"Nah, you good. These people crazy. My wife, Hodan, she just likes welcoming the new employees to the store's family. My mother is just happy that we have a little more help now that business is really been picking. Told you I've been working non-stop since I got home, 50 and 60 hours a week some times. But this weekend I'mma take off with the wifey and leave you here.  Ain't that right, babe?"  Jaleel lied. Hodan extended her hand to Marc and then shook his hands.

"Welcome, welcome, Marc. We waited a long time to meet you. I do like to throw really nice parties to welcome our guests, and I am good at it. You know, I handle the accounting for Heavenly Couture and also I handle our imports of oils and goods from all over Africa and the Middle East. I have few things - some gifts for you from Somalia and Dubai. We're all really happy to have your help. You speak Somali or Italian?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

"No, problem. Zuri will teach you, enshallah. There some food over on the side tables in Jaleel's office. Please, go help yourself. We'll talk later."

Marc shook his head and started off towards the storage room. He felt their eyes on him. He knew they were all watching him. He knew he shouldn't turn around, but he just had to. They were all watching him. He smiled politely before he opened the door and went to put his jacket away. That had been the strangest meeting of his life. What had he gotten himself into with these people. And who were they?

****

"He's not ready yet, Ma! Don't start messing with him yet. Give him time to unwind and get into his life. Ya'll gotta give him time to get know us. He don't need to carry any more of his past right now. He gotta stand up first." Jaleel urged.

"He's ours, Abdul Jaleel!I can see my brother in his eyes!  He should know before they get here. You and me and Hodan, we must tell him together," Ayaan pleaded.

"And they wouldn't be coming if you didn't tell them. It's too much. You gotta tell them he's not ready yet. We mess around and end up sending him right back onto the block if we don't do this right. I need more time with him," Jaleel argued.

"Ay, he's a strong one from a strong, noble tribe of good men. He will trust the truth. But dishonesty will cripple him," Zuri inserted. "Tell him who he is, Jaleel. Tell him the truth."












Sunday, December 9, 2018

Update: Call for Submissions - Blackseed & Honey: American Muslim Fiction Anthology Edited by Author Umm Juwayriyah
















UPDATED: DEADLINE IS DECEMBER 31st, 2018!
Email submission to: UmmJuwayriyah@gmail.com



Who can submit:

Must be a Muslim, *18* years of age or older living in the United States to be eligible to submit to this anthology. Preference will be given to stories by indigenous American Muslims. 

What can I submit:

Realistic fiction is preferred.  Short stories must have Muslim main character, 2500 words max, and be written in English. Two submissions max from the same author. 

What about my rights?

You fully own  and maintain your rights! Winners will grant As Sabr Publishing One time rights. Furthermore, you may also submit stories that you own the rights to, whether it was previously published before or not. 

What about submission fees?
  
  Zero! Zip! None! But ah, a sista will gladly accept any and all donations! For now: Get writing! 

Any Prizes?
  
Top 3 submissions will win $50! Yup, that's right! The three stories that me and editorial crew loves the most, I am going to gift with $50, special mentions in the anthology, and an interview right here on the blog! Everyone else gets a byline, a digital copy, discounts on bulk orders when it goes into print, an invite to LIVE CHATS on social media & future author meet-ups, and free marketing.

So, get writing -- I am ready to read ....about me, you -- about US: Blackseed & Honey! 


DEADLINE IS DECEMBER 31st, 2018!
Email submission to: UmmJuwayriyah@gmail.com

Monday, December 3, 2018

Top 6 Most Influential Muslim Youth You Should Know About From AboutIslam.net



Top 6 Most Influential Muslim Youth You Should Know About From AboutIslam.net 

In the US, about 99% of Muslim children attend public schools. However, a great majority of them face identity issues, disconnection from their faith and an erasure of influential Muslim role models to look up to in order to feel normal and accepted in the diversely apparent Western environment.
As a result, Muslims have started to reclaim and assert their narratives. Generation M’s accomplishments and contributions are booming and this helps curate our era’s Islamic history better via literature, fashion, food and science to name a few.
Having said that, there are new contributors to this history: the Muslim youth. Indeed, many landslide and prideful moments for the ummah are often achieved by these young entrepreneurs.
Therefore, check out six post-millenniums who are making waves in and outside the ummah by writing history.

Read More On AboutIslam.net

Sunday, November 25, 2018

Good Love & Muslim Womanhood by Umm Juwayriyah


Have you ever gone to a lecture on marriage in your friendly neighborhood Muslim community or some where else given by some guest student of Islamic knowledge or an Imam with tickets over $50, usually in the evening? It's always the same set-up, right? Sisters pack the prayer hall or community college or hotel, after spending weeks trying to find childcare, a ride, an outfit - or all three? Then when you get there and get comfortable you notice that all of the special guests are men over 45, speaking in a mono-tone voice (marriage isn't much exciting for some,eh?) for two hours to read/recite the same carefully selected hadeeth after hadeeth and aya after aya from his journal/notebook -- old college school book -- with little emotional or realistic commentary. All the while  your over 30 self is fighting to stay awake, take dry notes that you will never revisit, keep your leg awake, check on the kids with the sitter, but still plenty mad that you wasted a sitter and outfit for night out that was really boring/dry that you can't connect with. But then it hits you why you are so bothered in the first place. In all two hours you realized the special guests mentioned every duty/obligation/responsibility/robotic given of marriage --- but never mentioned the word love?


Come now selector: REWIND!

She snapped, "Yeah, love! You know, l-o-v-e? Do you Muslim women get to have love in your marriages or is it just like some business set-up?" a non Muslim woman co-worker asked a group of us in the teachers' staff room full of Muslim women from all around the world. We were all beautiful and diverse and over educated. Some sisters were not covered at all while some were fully covered up to their eyes sporting the finest Japanese silk niqabs and gloves. A grimace tugged on my face as my head titled to the side as an mild American city girl attitude brewed! I pondered where she had gotten that idea? Yes, she was non Muslim, but she'd spent her retired life traipsing from Dubai to Doha to London and back. She'd knew more than enough flirtatious, rich Muslim men and Muslim women of every ethnicity to not fall for every Hollywood movie story line.   Of course Muslim women had love! I saw love growing up in my home with my parents. I saw love in countless Muslim marriages in my community back in Massachusetts. I was in love with my husband, I thought to myself.  But before the words could fly out from my throat, a Lebanese teacher from the middle school department schooled me back into a womanhood class I'd yet to take.

"No, no, dear! Muslim women, most Muslim women like me, we don't get love. We get babies, in-laws, house work or we stay hiding in university as long as we can trying to avoid the bad ones who will try to control us. Then sometimes we miss out on the good ones who would have loved us, too! We eventually settle for the old, leftovers. The ones who don't know love," she insisted. "Hamduleelah, we Muslim woman get some things that make us happy in life. But love? Where? How?" the elder Lebanese educator who'd been in Kuwait for 17 years reflected.

I saw heads of Muslim women from all over the world in the room shaking. I heard mumbled words of agreement being shot across the around the room like arrows. Each one with  experiences that I had not experienced. Each with details, I hadn't thought to reflect on. Each one with tales of marriages devoid of love and understanding. I swallowed my words hard knowing they just wouldn't fit in that room and the lives those Muslim women lived. I couldn't speak for them. There were so many of them.  That was their truth and they had the right to speak it and free it.  The writer in me stilled my need to speak and begged me to listen and learn...for my daughters, nieces, and daughters of friends growing up Muslim back home in the States. For there were plenty we needed too. And in that commonality, I understood their frustrations.

Some times we spend so much energy as Muslims combating Islamophobia from every other group of people. We hate the stereotypes about Muslim women with a vengeance that any time we think someone is going in that direction, we are ready to react with a hard block. Hear me here: we can't block out our own sisters and their trials, tests, short-comings, or defeats. We can't deny our sisters a right to speak and share their experiences whether they are from "over there" in the Middle East or "down there" in Western "hood" communities!

Love is not a given for any woman, much less a Muslim woman! Good love --- real good love that we've all dreamed about since we had dolls -  is even rarer for many women. But there seems to be a significant amount of Muslim women who go through womanhood without experiencing a fulfilling love - in whatever way they need and want to define it. And there also seems to be  a battalion of Muslim women who break down marriage just like those boring, monotone brothers in the masajid who only sum it up to be nothing more than rights and obligations.

"As long he gives me my rights, I'm good!" so they told us.

But can we as Muslim women want more? Is it really haram or pointless to want to find a companion who shares your interests and needs? Can we be concerned about deen and late night spice from a partner? Can we desire a spouse who will laugh with us til our eyes tear! And is it possible that a husband can cheer you up with just his presence and understanding? Are Muslim women who want to feel butterflies in their stomach when they hear their husbands' voices shallow? Is loyalty over rated or just not happening any more? Has Disney truly spoiled and ruined our ability to decipher romance and love? Are we ungrateful if one date night every other month to the same restaurant and movie doesn't excite us for ten years? I know there is a sector of Muslim elders, leaders, scholars, male and female, who don't even think that love is a necessary for marriage to grow. You know you have heard them tell the tale: get married, consummate it and live happily ever after? But how are Muslim women supposed to be happy in their marriages without knowing how to grow happy with their mates? I too once thought it was all so simple and good love was easy to find and keep. And once upon a time, I was just young and naive as they come.

Is good love important to Muslim women? Is it still on our list of goals for things we want our marriages to create and fulfill? Are your Muslimah friends fulfilled and happy in their marriages? Do you even know? Do you even care? How do we as Muslim women support, educate, and mentor young Muslim sisters to be fulfilled in their marriages?

 I've said enough! Let's talk sisters. Share what you know. Give it some thought and let's bring the truth so that we can all do better and live fulfilled, enshallah.


Tried & Tested by Author & Educator Umm Juwayriyah


The BIG End of The Year Book List IS Coming: By Author & Educator Umm Juwayriyah & Juwayriyah Ayed



&



Yes, yes, ya'll! 

THE BIG END OF THE YEAR BOOK LIST: MUSLIM FICTION EDITION IS COMING!

For the last three years, I have been putting this BIG LIST together to help promote Muslim fiction, reading, and writing in the Western Muslim world. It is a labor of  real love & appreciation for the works of Muslim authors to share our narratives. It is to demonstrates that we came to the game, to change it with our authenticity! It's about speaking for ourselves. The Big List has also proven to be an amazing marketing buzz for the authors that I feature. With over 25,000 views and counting on these lists ---- Muslim authors, you don't want to miss this ship! So let's get this started, shall we!

Here ye: if you are a Muslim author and you have published a work of fiction in late 2017 throughout 2018, we want you to send us an email with your book cover, a short synopsis (a paragraph) and where we can link your book from by DECEMBER 21st, 2018! This is a free service to you, beloveds. Jump on it now! We will not be able to add any latecomers to this list after DECEMBER 21st, 2018! So if you have a friend, a cousin, an uncle, Imam at your masjid, youth director, your  ex-husband or wife who is Muslim and wrote a book between late 2017 through December 2018, make them send us their information so that they can share in these barakat. Don't wait til the last minute to send us your information.  I love all my cousins and aunties/uncles, but all *tree* ya'll got to follow directions and be on time. Ameen!

***New This Year****

We will now offer features for the BIG LIST! Yes, yes, ya'll! We know that you've worked hard on your book and you want to show it off with prime placement. We also know that some of you have gotten in a fit with me about where each book has been placed. Now, if you want your book to be up front --- at the top --- in the middle with bold black or blue text -- I got you! I will put your book where you want it to go (first come, first served)! Featured books are for a small cost of $5! Paid featured authors will also be added to the updated #MuslimGirlsRead Book App in the Google Play Store --- and will be invited to our virtual Book Fair!You still need to send your information & payment (Paypal me) by when? That's right: DECEMBER 21st, 2018! No late features will be accepted, but I love you nonetheless!

Share and Share and Share and Share and Share!

We cannot wait to get started on this list, but the BIG LIST can't be BIG without books! Stop what you're doing today and send me your books' information! I send this book list out to schools all over the world, I reference it on this blog, on all of my social media accounts, in interviews worldwide and enshallah, feature authors will be invited to participate in our upcoming virtual book fair in March 2019! You don't want to miss out on this list! This is not just my personal reading list, this is THE BIG END OF THE YEAR LIST: MUSLIM FICTION EDITION.


Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Oils & Incense For Sale Part 3 by Author and Educator Umm Juwayriyah



 One cold November night Ayaan waited for her evil husband to drink his favorite beer that she put cold medicine in. Ayaan waited for her husband to fall asleep so deep before she tripped over the bat. She called for her brothers. She needed their help. She'd done something so wrong to her husband. She hadn't meant to hurt him so badly, but she had. Her brothers were her brothers though. Abdi and Ayyub told her not to worry. Abdi promised Ayaan he would do what he'd had to do to protect his sister and her children.

Uncle Abdi had always kept them safe, Jaleel thought. He knew his uncle had been a good man who faced too many obstacles. It hadn't been his fault.

 Marc finished his prayer and sat folded on his knees as he turned to the right and then the left as he offered: "As salamu alykum - As salamu alykum."


Jaleel knew he'd do whatever he needed to keep his young cousin safe -  come hell or high water.


***

After breakfast Marc helped Jaleel bring the dozen boxes that had been lined up in the living room down to Jaleel's truck parked in front of the apartment. The all-black 2011 Nissan Frontier truck was tricked out with shiny silver rims and a custom grill. Marc wondered what business Jaleel really was into? Had he really left the block or was he dibbling back into his pleasures? Marc didn't know for sure. He knew he could trust Jaleel. But at the end of the day, he also knew crime was still in both of their blood. It always had a way of creeping out when you'd least expect it. Still, Marc knew he wanted to give Jaleel a chance, just like Jaleel had given him one. For some reasons he couldn't explain, Marc felt like he had a bond with Jaleel.

Marc glanced over at Jaleel as he drove down I-91 South towards Hartford and shook his head before he tightened his seat belt around himself. Jaleel was dipping in and out of the lanes like he worked for NASCAR. The dashboard of the car bounced to the rhythm of Papa San's classic old school dancehall song, Run the Route that boomed from the truck's sound system. Thirty minutes later Jaleel was pulling onto Blue Hills Ave. He slow rolled the truck through the street while occasionally waving at different people he knew. Marc sighed as he looked upon the people that lined the streets. Him and Junior had known some dudes in Holyoke who had attended Weaver High School in Hartford. Weaver High School students had been notorious for all the wrong things back in the day.  Hartford's dealers and gang members, many from Weaver High School, has had a habit of trying to run through their neighbors in Springfield and Holyoke, Massachusetts to turn over any block that they thought wasn't secure with a strong arm and bullets. Junior had had plenty of squabbles with runners from the Blue Hills Ave crew from Weaver High School and Marc had always been there to make sure his cousin got out alive. That was then though. Marc had been out of the game, but the area still made him anxious.

"You good!" Jaleel told him as he popped the locks and opened the driver's door. He stepped out and stretched out his full six foot frame.

"I'm a'ight," Marc responded with hesitation as he exited the truck then surveyed his surroundings once again.

Jaleel laughed as he headed towards the flatbed. "That wasn't a question, brah. That was the real. You good 'round here. Fo'real. We...I mean, I got family all through here. Look, the store is across the street," he said nodding his head in the direction. "We got everything on grid lock. Nobody doing what we doing from Springfield to New York City. Not even in New Haven or West Heaven. All them little bitty spots out there run by Pakistanians or A-rabs anyway. Grab dem boxes," Jaleel ordered.

Marc turned around and looked across the street. He was surprised to see several decent looking storefronts that stood side by side. Some had signs for shoes, jewelry, clothing, and even eye glasses. He spotted Jaleel's place right away. It was right in the middle of the other stores with a steady stream of people walking in and out. There was a green and gold crescent lighted outside spinning, a few tables and chairs, and a steady billow of smoke flowing from the store. The large marquee sign read Heavenly Couture: Oils & Incense & Organic Teas over the top of store and looked expensive, too.  Marc reached into the flatbed and pulled out two boxes and ran them across the street. It was time for Marc to find out just what Jaleel had on grid lock and decide whether or not he wanted to be apart of it.

"Wipe dem feet, youngin' den come 'round dere back, 'easy!" called a soft feminine voice Marc couldn't spot. He backed up to the door and did as he was told. He didn't know why, but he just knew he didn't want to start nothing with who ever he heard.

"Gud Mawrnin, youngin!" a slender, petite woman with the silky voice from before. She emerged from a back room carrying a small box. She stood about five feet with rich and flawless sandal brown skin draping her face that was accented with dimples in her cheeks, thick black eye lashes and eyebrows. A single gold hoop dangled from her nose while black studs lined her earlobes. She had a ton of gold bracelets on each wrist that jingled as she walked, a beige head wrap with ringlets of thick, black natural hair slipping free. She wore a green wrap dress with a beige and gold throw scarf over her chest with brown leather boots.

Marc stared the woman up and down slowly taking in all of lines upon her face before he caught himself. "Oh! Uh, Morning. How ya doing?" he finally thought to say.

"Gud, gud to finally see you, Marc!" the young woman quipped with a little giggle before walking behind the counter. Behind the counter on the walls were rows and rows of bottles of oils and incense. The whole shop smelled like what he thought some the gardens of Jannah would smell like. The floors shined and sparkled real clean, bottles of lotions, perfumes, soaps, pomades, shampoos, conditioners, dresses and handbags were every where his eyes landed. In the back of the store was a tea and coffee station that had a couple of bookcases full of  books for sale as well. Marc was impressed. He'd never seen a store like it before in Holyoke. But his mind quickly wandered back to the pretty woman behind the counter tapping her feet, bouncing her head, and lip singing to the beat of the soft playing voice of Buju Banton coming through the store's speakers:

"And I say, I know that the sun will come out tomorrow.
Bring me only joy, don't bring no sorrow. Call me optimistic. I believe in life.
All is here for the taking, for a price.
It's the magic city, magic lights, magic moments, 
magical heights..."

Zuri was her name. She wasn't the conventional beauty that you would see in a rap or pop music video or hanging on the block with the stick up boys, but she was naturally beautiful. And Marc could tell she knew it, too!

"Zuri! Zuri? Where you put dem receipts? Thought I said you got to keep the books tighter than a mug'. All we needs is one pop-up inspection or that man sniffing 'round here looking for us to slip up...." Jaleel ranted. Zuri waved her hand in the air. Pieces of paper were griped in between her fingers. She smiled before sticking out her tongue.

"One of these days, gal! I swear by Allah! You gon' be on a boat back on to that Motherland you love so much! Keep tryin' me," Jaleel joked. "Marc, where the rest of the boxes, brah?"

Marc looked down at the two boxes he had brought in and sighed out loud. He totally had got sidetracked. "My bad, Leel. Let me go get the rest of them!" Marc turned on his heels and headed back outside to the truck.

"Be easy, Jaleel," Zuri offered.

"I can't have both of you screwing up. He boughta' get my stuff jacked right outside the damn store! And mind your own business, too!' Jaleel warned her as he walked over and picked up the first two boxes.

"Oh, Hodan called for you. Fatma, your sister called. And Mr. O'Brien from the city planning's office called three times already. Plus yesterday messages, too." Zuri revealed. "He's not going to stop. I don't think."

"Nah! But when I buy this strip, enshallah, that'll stop him for good. Call Hodan and Fatmah, tell them he's here, safe and good. They can come by and see him at closing. He gotta pull his weight like the rest of us."

"Aye - Aye, Captain. Any other demands?" Zuri giggled before grabbing her cellphone.

"I am gonna  put your butt on a boat soon come, Zuri!"

***

Marc brought all the boxes into the store then Jaleel wanted him to unpack them, record the inventory and then finally restock the shelves on the front floor. It took almost four hours just to count the inventory. To his dismay, Marc spent most of the day in the back, while Jaleel and Zuri were out on the front floor with all the customers that kept coming through the door. Jaleel had been right, he did have the business on lock. He felt proud that his mentor had made big moves and left him a space to come learn and grow with him. That still didn't stop him from thinking about Zuri. He hadn't even had an opportunity to introduce himself properly before Jaleel had him slaving. She had greeted him like she knew his social security number. Like she had been waiting on him all along. He wanted to know who she was and what she was about. Was she one of Jaleel's women. He could've swore Jaleel had a woman back at the apartment. Zuri didn't look like she was that type, but Marc  knew anything was possible. You never knew how people lived behind closed doors these days, Marc thought.

There was a small tap on the door then it opened before Marc could speak. "Jaleel ready for salat. Our masjid up suh," Zuri told him.

"Up what? What you say?'

"Uh-- Suh, dem street!" Zuri snapped annoyed.

"Up What? Up where?" Marc asked again not realizing he was offending her. "My bad. I'm sorry, yo! It's just your accent. It's nice but mad fast. I just didn't hear you well," Marc explained as his face flushed warm and his jaw got tight. Marc hadn't been accustomed to apologizing. Not before prison and definitely not during. He said what he said and always meant it. He could tell Zuri was different and accustomed to a different approach. And she was real easy on his eyes, even when she was mad. He dropped his head finally trying to show a bit of respect. "Are you Muslim, Zuri?" Marc blurted out. It was a blunt and risky question, but he wanted to know straight up if she had any deen or not. He wasn't bout to go back to chasing hot tails in the street running after hot boys. His question made her stop in her tracks.

Zuri sucked her teeth and then shook her head lightly. She wondered what Marc really was about, too! Couldn't he tell what she was? He was the one who just got out of a jail and had the nerve to question her faith? "What - do - you - think?" she asked slowly and sarcastically enunciating each word as best as she could before disappearing.

Marc laughed to himself. He understood every word she said that time, but he still was lost and didn't know the answer. He walked to the bathroom to relieve himself than made ablution.

The walk Jaleel took Marc on was short but frigid. It was the middle of the day and the air seemed to have gotten colder. Still they marched on as quickly as they could in order to make the noon prayer on time. The small masjid was just up the block. As soon as they approached the masjid he saw Muslims. The men and the women were noticeable. Brothers in long traditional gowns, kufis, and big beards started offering the salams, extending their hands to Jaleel and Marc alike. Marc didn't know any of them, but he felt welcomed and safe.

Marc smiled to himself as he finally lined up on the musallah with the rest of the brothers in a straight line. This was his first time ever praying in a real masjid on the outside. He rubbed his feet into the plush green carpet, straightened his back, before turning his head to look down the row. There were about 50 men in the room for the noon prayer. Marc might as well had been in Makkah surrounded by millions  of Muslims because he was amazed by the sight right there in Hartford. He'd never been to Makkah, but he knew what his heart was feeling, he'd feel it there too.

"Allahu Akbar!" the prayer leader called out and Marc prayed his first prayer in the masjid as a free man.

After the prayer was over, Marc spotted Jaleel on the other side of the prayer room making his Sunnah prayers. Marc sat down on the carpet and began to offer some supplications and dhikr. As he recited the names of Allah, his mind wandered. He still hadn't gone over to his mother's house. He knew he needed to go check up on her and his little sister, even though she never once wrote or visited him. He was a kid who made some bad mistakes that she'd tried to steer him away from. He hadn't listened to her. He'd been hardheaded and dumb. She'd been right all the time. But still her absence hurt him deeply. She left him alone when he needed her love and guidance most. Now he was too embarrassed and proud to drag himself back to her doorstep without really redeeming himself. He had to get himself together before he could face his mother again. Right or wrong, Marc would have to face his mother on his own terms now.

"You ready for that cold, brah?" Jaleel asked from behind. "I knew I shoulda just drove down the daggone street!"

"I'm good and young and strong! I can take it!" March flaunted.

"I ain't none dem things no more. I am about to catch the flu, an ear infection, and arthritis in my  back messing around with this cold. Speaking of the cold, you gonna have to get your license, asap. Need you to start making deliveries once we get the van next week. Enshallah," Jaleel explained as they walked out the musallah into the hall to retrieve their shoes from the shoe rack.

"You bought a van?"

"Yeah. Got a good deal at an auction. Figure it's time to expand the business. With winter on top of us foot traffic gonna slow down soon. We need to keep the customers buying though," Jaleel said.

"You got a website, Facebook, Instagram, Snap Chat and a LinkedIn page yet?" Marc asked as they walked out of the masjid and started trekking back to the store.

"Nah. I don't really mess with that online and social media crap like that. O.G.s don't rap with strangers, ya dig? But you know how to set that stuff up?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good. Guess you got some more work to do then."

"Yeah, I guess so," Marc beamed with pride. He had work to do and it made him feel good.

"Every day you work, is the day you get paid."

"How much you gonna pay me to work at Heavenly Couture?"

"$75"

"$75 a week?" Marc grimaced. "I mean, I know it's just a starting pay, right?"

"$75 a day. Plus you can keep tips from the van deliveries. Bigger deliveries, bigger tips. Don't be a knucklehead though, keep ya head on straight."


When Marc and Jaleel walked through the door they stopped to wipe their feet off on the door mat.  A man came walking up to them. Zuri was busy with customers but she slipped away immediately as she saw the man approaching her boss. She wanted to get there and warn Jaleel. But it was too late. The man had beaten her again.

"Mr. O'Brien," Jaleel sulked. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Chad. Really, my first name is fine.  Just call me, Chad. Can I uh call you Jaleel?"

"No! We're not friends, Mr. O'Brien. So what's up? What do you want now?"

"Fine, Mr. James. Have it your way. I am here to talk numbers. I've been authorized to make you an offer you're not going to want to turn down this time."

Marc and Zuri looked at Jaleel to see what he was going to say next. What would he be willing to do, if the numbers were actually too good to turn down?