Sister Souljah - Life After Death

“Even with the mask on, I need complete darkness to sleep,” she said. We all igged her.

31.

Dr. Amal Janebi didn’t look or behave like my prison psych. She was the opposite. Instantly I felt a strong like for her. It was not anything she said. She was in the corner office. Her desk was a semicircle made of 90 percent glass and 10 percent steel. It was placed in the middle of her large suite with a floor-to-ceiling glass wall behind her. The sunlight poured in, causing her face to have an extra glow. Through the glass desk I saw her crocodile stilettos. They was so fire. I wanted to pull up close on them, which I would never do. The illest thing, however, was that her couch, her divan, and her revolving doctor’s chair were all made from genuine crocodile. Made me want to stand up and applaud her for whatever it took for her to chill so fucking hard that she got the corner office, the luxury furnishings, and the window with the sunlight. She was not young. She was not nearly old. She may have been around thirty it seems, like around my age or so. She had long, jet black hair that cascaded down with curls. Beautiful eyes and smooth skin. She was slim but shapely. Her Cartier reading glasses were laid on her desktop. She wore three pure gold bangles. Her ears dangled diamonds. Her marriage finger was laced with a “can’t say no” rock so large it needed round-the-clock security. She wore the long, tapered, mint-green shoulder-to-shoe dress that we all wore. But of course her setting, accessories, and jewels made it crystal clear that she was not the same as the rest of us. All of it was more convincing than the degrees she held. They were posted on a side wall as though even she knew they weren’t the biggest thing she had going on. I decided before the session even began, I would give it to her hands down. Why not? She took it. She had achieved what I had been saying about all of these counselors, therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists that I have encountered in my short lifetime. If you want someone to cooperate with you, to listen, to hear, consider what you are saying and suggesting, you have to be someone that your patient or client would like to become. Even a prisoner does not want to become like the cheap, style-less, unattractive, frustrated prison personnel. So we bullshit them the way they bullshit us. Not today. She won.

“We are both women,” she began. “You may remove your abaya. Let your hair down. Feel comfortable. Would you like a glass of water?”

“No, thank you, Dr. Amal. I don’t want water. If you are testing to see if I am an evil spirit or not, I am not.”

She laughed. “You may have noticed that here in the City of Mercy we are not security heavy. The reason is because this area is under the mercy of Allah. There is nothing evil any soul can do here. There is no way back for any soul either. It’s either up or down, by Allah’s permission and none other. So please relax. I am a doctor, a psychiatrist, a guide, but as I am sure you have realized by now, there is only ONE JUDGE. When Allah grants mercy or gives out punishment, there is none who can lessen it or increase it or interfere.” I took off my abaya and made myself comfortable on the crocodile. “Ask me anything,” the doctor said. “Once you have exhausted all of your questions, I will lead the conversation.”

“Are you Spanish, black, or white?” I asked her because I wasn’t sure.To me she had the complexion of olive oil.

“Americans always want an answer to this race question. It is a strange preoccupation, but I will allow it. I am an Emirati,” she said, and smiled nicely.

“Emirati,” I repeated. Even that name is hot to death.

“Yes if there was a category, I would be placed in the Arab category. I don’t flaunt that. I know Americans don’t tend to meet, trust, or like Arabs. Also, many Americans have never heard of, or are completely unfamiliar with, the gulf countries.” She is right. I don’t really know anything about them or their countries or gulf, which is just the name of a gas station to me. And, I never even heard of an Emirati. Dope name though.

“I have had many American souls, who were a huge portion of the population of the Last Stop Before the Drop. They processed through here. Sad that the majority of them only encounter Arabs and the Arabic language and Arabic countries and lands after death. Not to say that all Arabs are good people. There is also a population of Arabs in the Last Stop Before the Drop. It is significant, however, that Allah chose the language of Arabic as the language that the Holy Quran was revealed and written in. This is what makes it special. Arabs, the people of course, are simply flawed like all humans,” she said softly.

“So you have the advantage,” I said.

“Pardon?” she said.

“You are closer to it because it comes from you. It looks and sounds familiar to you. It’s in your language. The rest of us don’t feel the familiarity, affection or love for your thing that you feel,” I said to her. Then I started thinking and checking. I am not telling a lie. I am not telling a lie , I assured myself.

“Yes, but the Faith is for all. The message of the Holy Quran is for all,” she said confidently.

“So let me ask you something. If the only way up is to make a sincere prayer, but a soul doesn’t feel familiar and does not have an affection, devotion, or love for Allah, is it possible to go up based strictly only on the fact that I fear Allah? I fear the Hell Fire? Can worship be accepted without a real love, but with a real fear instead?” I reworded myself. It was as though I was asking her and asking myself at the same time.

“Powerful question. I think it is an excellent start that you have given the matter of your soul deep thought,” she said. Inside I was celebrating. That’s right! Acknowledge, I am not a dumb bitch like Succubus said I was. As long as I decide to put my mind to something, that’s what matters to me. I don’t want anyone other than me to try to force my mind on to a matter.

“There are seven academies here at the City of Mercy. You are at academy one, Self-Reflection. InshAllah, by the time you advance through each academy you will be very familiar with Allah. As you read Quran, your soul and heart will open up and you yourself will be moved to love Allah, InshAllah. You will grow to love Allah and worship with love and fear.” I gave her a piercing look. She needed to know that, like study bitch, I wanted the answer to my question and that’s it. She read my stare. She said, “Allah is the Judge. Allah is All-Knowing. Allah will judge if your fearful prayer is sincere. I cannot. No one else but Allah can.”

“Okay, cool. So my next question is, can I skip the other six academies and make my fearful prayer, as you call it, and receive a decision? Is there an express line in the City of Mercy?” She laughed naturally. Then she tried to pull back her laughter professionally.

“You are staying in the Princess Residence, here in the Self-Reflection Center.”

“Yes,” was all I answered. I knew that it was not a question and that she already knew where I was staying. Everything here is digital and advanced.

“Of course. Every soul assigned to that particular residence has a special set of matters of the mind and soul to overcome. There is this condition known as the Princess complex. A woman does not actually have to be a princess to have this condition and this complex. It is a state of mind, brought on to women who have either been spoiled rotten, misled from a young age, or worshipped instead of loved, or overprotected instead of living, or violated in some awful manner by the people closest to them, family,” she explained. “Or it could be rooted in something simple. You could be a woman who was read to, or who has read a lot of ridiculous stories that are read and told all around the world to children and young adults. Stories where you are a princess who is exalted, deserves to be served and worshipped, protected and cherished, and beautiful and rich, of course. Many women have these stories engraved into their souls, where they should not be, because they are not truthful stories nor are they realistic or good.”