How have you survived 27 years of incarceration? How did you survive nearly a decade in the hole? How do you stay inspired? How do you stay so positive? How do you keep smiling?
“Allah!” is the resounding answer that I give to all “How?” questions. Understanding that Allah gives the greatest struggles to His strongest soldiers, I take great pride in being chosen for this journey.
The Holy Qu’ran, Surah 3:110, states that I am the most evolved of mankind, enjoining what is right and forbidding what is wrong. Knowing that Allah sees all, I walk upright, staying properly groomed outside and inside, and being respectful to everyone.
As a Righteous Moorish American, studying and standing proudly in the spirit of The Prophet Noble Drew Ali, I embody our Divine Creed of love, truth, peace, freedom, and justice.
My name is Santonio D Murff Bey. My ancestors ruled the northwestern and southwestern shores of Africa and beyond for almost ten centuries. I am not a criminal. I’m a political hostage. I walk these prison halls with my head up, my chest out, and my back straight. There is no shame in following in the footsteps of The Christ: Laying down your life for that which you love.
“Brother, please leave the children alone. They shouldn’t be afraid to walk to school because you are trying to force them to join your gang and sell that poison.” I tried to reason with the community’s crime boss.
He attacked me. I’m trained with my hands, and it showed. He drew a weapon and ended up dead. “Allah bless his soul.”
Almost my entire community showed up at my trial in support of me.
“Santonio went looking for trouble,” the prosecutor argues. A jury, who couldn’t have been farther from my peers, found me guilty.
“Allahu Akbar! May His will be done.” I exited the prison bus, searching for the spot where I was most needed to do God’s work.
The ignorance that permeates this place opened my eyes even more to all that I have to be thankful for and to share. My nationality, creed, culture, religion, forefathers and foremothers are no mystery to me. Having knowledge of their struggles, how much they overcame, and their successes in spite of seemingly insurmountable odds, makes it easy for me to laugh in the face of my adversity.
My concerns are more for my miseducated brothers.
“You brothers are about to fight over $2. I’ll give each of you $4 to not shed each other’s blood. You’re both priceless to me and Allah, God.” I’ve resolved many conflicts with such offerings, intelligent reasoning, and earnest pleas for peace.
My dignity, like my pride, runs deep. It is firmly rooted in those who came before me. I can trace my lineage from the military genius and glory of Hannibal to the godliness of The Prophet Noble Drew Ali. I’m duty bound by my bloodline to bring that greatness wherever Allah, God guides me.
My indomitable spirit came bent and unbroken across the oceans during the Middle Passage. It sang and danced through the cotton fields, while creating everything from spirituals to soul food from the worst that the world had to offer.
It, that suffering but striving spirit, uplifted us to the highest office in the land less than 50 years after we were granted suffrage. Struggle, bouncing back, SUCCESS is embedded in my very soul.
“Righteous Nation! One Nation. One God. One Love!” I sing my song of salvation from Jumuah to Christian Services. All over the unit, I’m recognized by my brothers of all colors by the righteous fruit that I bear.
”Sir, God has placed you in a position to be an enormous blessing or a tremendous curse to a lot of people. Why not choose to be a blessing?” My words of wisdom, unifying love – righteous fruit – are offered to all of the officers.
“Understanding that prisons are about housing and hurting, it is incumbent upon us prisoners to start helping and healing each other.” The sheep heed the call of the shepherd. Our good works draw us together and we bond around helping others to read, creating writing groups, and providing hygiene packages to those in need.
Our faith strengthens us, and we strengthen each other. Our peace lies in our trust in the great God of good, “May His will always be done.”
Cakes made from crème cookies and Chick-O-Sticks. Fried foods made from empty fruit cans and the heating element from a hotpot – I invite all to the feast every time I receive a letter, a picture, and/or a card of appreciation and achievement from those who will forever remember me for the sacrifice that I made so they could have life more abundantly. Those who prove that I’ve made this world a better place and lived a life worth living.
That is enough for me to close my eyes with a smile of serenity every night. Surely, Allah is the best of planners. Salaam.
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