GENRE: MG Secret
At dawn, Ibrahima cleansed his forearms, face, and feet with fresh water from a stream near his cabin. His calloused hands still hurt from picking cotton yesterday from sunrise to sunset. Before everything was stolen away, his fingers had ached from writing lessons for hours on a slate board. He had once loved to study more than anything. In school, he had read and memorized passages from the Qur’an.
Near Natchez, Ibrahima was forced to settle for very little. There were no mosques or books written in Arabic anywhere in Mississippi. Years ago, he prayed with his brothers and father five times a day in a large, circular shaped mosque in Timbo. He now tried to clear his mind of sadness and distracting thoughts; an impossible task. He longed for a place where he and his friend, Samba, could freely study, recite Arabic phrases, and worship in peace.