Angel's Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page A

projects? Oppression. The white man knew exactly what he
     was doing when he built the prisons and the projects. But Islam is the liberator. Not the nation of Islam, not the 5 percent
     of Islam, not Moorish science or nationalistic ideologies, but Islam. Sunni Islam, pure and simple.”
    Rahman paced in front of the brothers with his hands clasped behind his back.
    “Now some will tell you that Islam doesn’t liberate. Islam enslaves. Look at the Arabs on the east coast of Africa. They were
     doing the same thing the Europeans were doing on the west coast of Africa! To them I say, know the difference between liberator
     and conqueror. Many start out as liberators but become conquerors, and the Arabs were no different. This is when we lost our
     glory as Muslims. But I challenge you to find any religion that has liberated any country in the history of the world. Christianity?
     That is only a facade for Roman imperialism. Buddhism? No. Judaism? Stop playin’.” Rahman smiled and a few laughed quietly.
    “But Islam? Yes, yes, and yes again. This is history. So this is what we must take home to our families. Islam. Not as conquerors
     but as liberators. Teach them what they can do and they won’t need for what they don’t have. Lead by example, not by rhetoric,
     and they too shall follow.
As-Salaamu Alaikum
.”
    After Jum’ah, Akbar and Rahman walked the yard.
    “That was a beautiful khutbah, nephew. I taught you well,” Akbar joked. Rahman smiled.
    “All praises are due to Allah.”
    “Indeed. But, ah… you didn’t plan on speakin’ on that particular topic today, did you, Ock?” Akbar inquired knowingly.
    Rahman answered him with his eyes.
    “I noticed you weren’t using your index cards. So, I figured you were free-styling,” Akbar surmised, then added, “Got anything
     to do with that
Don Diva
magazine?”
    Rahman looked around the yard, formulating a response. The other inmates were indulging in recreational pursuits under the
     Pennsylvania sun, balling and lifting weights like they didn’t have a care in the world.
    “Something like that,” Rahman replied.
    Akbar nodded. “That’s why I showed it to you. So you’d know what’s waitin’ for you when you touch down.”
    “If I touch.”
    Akbar shrugged.
    “Allah is the best of planners, but He’s already set the stage for your return. How you gonna handle this Angel thing?”
    They lapped the yard several times before Rahman wanted to rest. They stopped and sat down.
    “What you mean, how? You know what we planned. Nothing will get in the way of that, Insha Allah.”
    “Insha Allah,” Akbar repeated. “Look, Rah. I’ve been watchin’ you for three years. Watchin’ you grow in Islam and watchin’
     how your character has changed. You’re a beautiful brother, but nephew, that gangsta is still in you.”
    Rahman wanted to defend himself, but Akbar continued.
    “I’m not saying you frontin’ or you ain’t sincere. But we were born and trained to be what them streets made us. You, a gangsta.
     Me, I’m a grand master, but that’s a personal jihad within myself. Like you said today, the liberator or the conqueror. The
     liberator is Rahman, but the conqueror is One-eyed Roc, the cold-blooded killer and big money getter.”
    Rahman let Akbar’s words sink in before responding. “I hear you, Ock, but believe me, I’m ready.”
    “Are you?” Akbar shot back. “Because what we’re plannin’ to do is serious. It ain’t no game. People gonna pay the price.”
    “I know that.”
    “Well, what if one of those people is Angel? If you had to pull the trigger, could you look her in the face and pull it?”
    Rahman’s eyes locked with Akbar’s. It was a thought that had crossed his mind, but one he didn’t want to face.
    “Every Saul wants to be Paul,” Akbar philosophized. “You know how many cats get locked up and then wanna change the world?
     Crackheads wanna open up rehabs, trick niggas wanna respect black women, and