Initially it took me a full six months just to write the first five chapters. After sending them to Batini I ended up having to rewrite. On my second go around I found that I could write an entire chapter in just one day. At that rate I should be able to easily write an entire book within three to six months, depending how long its chapters are.
For decades my mother Mattie had told me she had always wanted to write a book. She sought to write a book similar to the much acclaimed 1940’s African American Author Alex Haley’s book .She wanted to trace the Ancestral lineage of her father Amos Murchison. Amos had a black mother and a white father. I witness her take notes for over 15 years and yet never end up writing the book. My mother died Sunday February 12, 2012. I decided to write a book which would be part science fiction yet part autobiographical.
As the story has it I had a five year prison sentence to do. I was in prison for a felony breaking and entering conviction. When sentenced to do this time I sat in jail only to later come to prison. If anyone knows about prison you would know what you go through in being processed into the prison system. I was processed at a maximum security prison called Central Prison or CP in Raleigh, NC. After spending 45 days at CP I was sent to a medium custody prison in the mountain region of North Carolina. I was told that I would only be here for 90 days. After doing those 90 days I was sent to a minimum security prison very close to CP. That means I was sent back to Raleigh. In 1989 most of the current black males within the North Carolina prison system think and act like slaves. To a certain extent they have to. There are far more whites in prison. The entire prison staff is white. The Black Prisoners have been repetively raped and beaten up.
Of the 600 prisoners at this minimum security prison referred to as “Triangle” one hundred of them are homosexual. The overall population are four hundred whites and one hundred and fifty blacks. Of the one hundred fifty blacks fifty of them are homosexuals. Almost all the Black Homosexuals were rape victims while most white homosexuals were already homosexuals when they came to prison. I don’t know how this reflects on the outside prison world.
There were about 10 prisoners here who should have been placed in an insane asylum. They won’t get the proper treatment they need. They clearly don’t belong in a prison.
Someone is going to end up killing one of them or one of them will kill another prisoner.
I have four sisters and one baby brother, and I’m the eldest. My brother is the only one who writes me. He’s a Muslim. The rest of the family prefers contact via the phone. Each of them now lives in walking distance of this prison. We were birthed in Springfield, Massachusetts. Both of our parents were originally from North Carolina.
In 1989 within the confines of prison the only so-called black men in what would appear any form of a significant power would have been the members of The Lost and Found Nation of Islam. In America it is accepted that such black militant Muslims had a slightly different style or version of Islam than that of the Muslims of Saudi Arabia which is the birthplace of Islam. In this same note the American Christian is often in direct opposition of the Christiandome taught in Israel or Jerusalem. Only the spiritually blind, deaf and would or could be fooled by the act of Muslims praying together as if such an act cured Islam of racism, sexism and religious intolerance.
In many parts of Europe the more dark skinned Muslims are known as Bilalist. Bilal was a Sudanese Muslim. Mohammad Ibn Abdullah of Arabia saw the more pale complexioned Muslims look upon the darker skinned Muslims as their inferiors. To counteract this Blatant form of racism Mohammad appointed Bilal as the leader of the Muslims prayer referred to as the a Adhan.
I arrived at “Triangle” on Tuesday January 16, 1990. I was the only black prisoner who wasn’t a Muslim who didn’t ask a white person for permission to do things. I’m the only black person who refused a prison job without receiving disciplinary infractions. I ‘m also the only black tattoo artist here. Tattooing in prison is actually against the law. I do it as if legal.
When I first got here I had no money and no art material. The only artist here were two black artist and ten white artist. I simply borrowed a pencil from one of the black artist. I did six different poster sized portraits from photographs of family members of prisoners and members of the prison staff. It took me two weeks to complete those six black and white pencil drawing. After doing them and getting paid for them I was enabled to by my own art supplies.
Four white tattoo artist gave me all of their supplies before they recently went home. Since they were the only tattoo artist here everyone then came to me if they wanted a tattoo. It eventually got to the point most of the prisoners here and most of the prison staff members were getting either holiday or birthday cards, portraits or tattoos from me. I then had many of the other artist here working for me.
I would sit at the table in the dayroom drawing or writing from 5:30 am to 11:30 pm. I had only been to the chow hall four times. Everything else I ate came from the canteen or what the prison staff would bring to me. I would take short breaks to eat, shower and use the bathroom. I could leave my art material or equipment at the table in the dayroom overnight without anyone stealing anything. I rarely listened to the radio.
June of 1990 I noticed that a librarian was needed in the prisons brand new state of the art library. It seemed as if no one wanted the job. Monday June 4th 1990 I began my first day as the prison librarian. It wasn’t until Monday June 18th that I began typing what was to become a book. I was utilizing the library’s computer. I had a prison job where I could work my own hours. I decided that my hours would be from 8:00 am to 11:pm. I would work seven days a week.
It wasn’t until Thursday September 13 that I completed five chapters. I immediately packaged those chapters to place stamps on the package to rush and send it to my sons mother. I felt deep gratification sending every chapter to her. Batini was living in Springfield. I thought I was coming to North Carolina to visit my mother, brother and sisters. I was supposed to have just come to North Carolina to spend a week to visit my mother, brother and sisters. My mother, brother and four sisters had come to North Carolina in 1984. My mother was originally from Harnett County and my father was from Moore County. I had grown up in a single parent household with 4 sisters and 1 brother in Springfield, Massachusetts. I was the oldest of my brother and sisters.
I wanted Batini to give me constructive criticism and her aid in writing, publishing and marketing my potential book. I wrote her several letters in great detail explaining my expectations from her. I was expecting her to be fully flabbergasted, thrilled, and electrified that I of all people was writing a book. I thought she would be more than willing to help me. I assumed she would eagerly jump on the this golden opportunity.
Yet I did notice that when we spoke on the phone she never mentioned the content of any mail I sent her. Oddly she did assure me that she did in fact receive the mail but she had not as of yet opened the mail to view its content. In all of our phone conversations her primary concern was that we discuss the explicit sex we were going to have during our next encounter. She told me that she was more than willing to allow me to perform anal acts on her but she didn’t ever want to perform fellatio.
I never thought it made sense to talk about the sexual intercourse I wasn’t going to get for years. She continued in her nonsensical fantasy anyway. Sometimes I would hang up the phone on her. She eventually got around to telling me she was pregnant. The son we had was now getting a sister by a different daddy. She blamed me for her pregnancy.
She eventually told me that she actually couldn’t read or write. So that caused her to throw away all the mail I had sent her. She had never bothered opening the mail. I had considered trying to write a book was really a big waste of time. I then reconsidered.
Saturday October 6 1990 the Warden of the prison walked into the library. I only quickly looked up at him and then continued to type. There were about 8 prisoners in the library at the time. The warden then asked me what I was typing. I told him I was attempting to write a book. We talked for a full 10 minutes before he abruptly left the library.
Wednesday October 10th 1990 the Warden came back into the library. I then found it somewhat odd that he always wears black. He’s a very pale looking blonde, blue eyed man who only wears black. His name was Clark Villers.
He asked me to give him a printout of everything I wrote for my book thus far. So I used the library’s printer and printed out a copy of the book I have thus far written. I didn’t see the warden again until Monday November 5th of 1990. There may have been eight prisoners in the library when he came in. The library had air conditioning. This time around Clark came in the library with a small group of civilians. He told me that all North Carolina Prisons were now integrated. Blacks and women were now a required part of the prison staff.
A few black men and women were in Clarks small group. Some very attractive white females were also in the group among some white men. I didn’t understand why would they want to work at a prison.
Clark introduced me to the new head of the library. She was a 27 year old black woman named Dina Body. I almost thought it was a joke that her last name was Body. The Warden explained many of the library chores and functions to Mrs. Body and all the other new hires of this facility. None of them were dressed in prison uniforms. They talked and walked around for an hour before exiting. Before leaving the warden came over to me to inform me that he was an atheist. He told me he would do everything in his power to assure my book was published and marketed upon its completion.
For some strange reason Clark told me that no state issued computer used by any prison was allowed Internet access. I wondered why he was telling me something I already knew and he knew that I knew. The library had no internet access. Friday November 23rd,1992 I found the library had Internet access.
The following week on Monday November 25th Dina Body came into the library. She told me she had already payed for my website. She also informed me that it would be against prison policy for a prisoner to use any state issued prison computer in a way it would seem to be transmitting from the confines of a prison. She knew a way it would seem to transmit messages from another address. She also told me she was an atheist. She hadn’t known more than 5 African American Atheist. She was surprised that an atheist was in prison as a prisoner. Most prisoners in North Carolina were devout Christians.
Dina smells really good. She has unusually long fingernails, too long to do much work with. She was six foot tall with really large breast, a very small waistline, a flat stomach, broad hips and a really big butt. Everything she wore was in a uniformed solid color. Today she wore a yellow skirt, yellow blouse, yellow looped earrings, a yellow bracelet, yellow lipstick, a yellow watch, a yellow jacket and some yellow pumps. She was light brown in complexion a little darker than a tan. For now she only comes in the library where her office is on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays. She never stayed in her library office for more than three hours. I decided to give up my attempt to write a book for now. Since I now have my own website I’m going to do something with it.
After New Year’s Day of 1991 I decided to go ahead and write 4 separate books right away. Both Clark and Dina informed me of numerous ways I could get all four books published while I was yet in prison. But instead of rushing to get all 4 books published I first wanted to obtain copyrights for all four books.
It wasn’t until April of 1991 that the US copyright office had given me the copyrights to all 4 books. In January I had all 4 books typed and sent to the copyright office. Once obtaining copyrights I decided to place a combination of all 4 books into a condensed version of them all. I had now gained 2,500 followers on my website. I had drawn hundreds of drawings which was supposed to be included in the book posted on my website.
I told Dina it wasn’t for me being in prison I could have some of my drawings made on clothing and perhaps could kick start my own clothing line. Dina told me I could still do it from the confines of prison, she would help me. So I downloaded 150 pages of drawings I had left on the prison library’s computer. Wednesday April 17, 1991 Dina brought me 20 t-shirts with my artwork etched onto on them. I told Dina to feel free to put me in my place and there was no disrespect between us, she was very attractive to me and I wanted to know if she was married or dating. I thought she and I should hook up. I’m usually not very talkative. I guess Dina got me excited so I began to rant. I told Dina I needed her to meet my brother and four sisters. As we conversed I found that Dina lived in walking distance to this prison facility living in the same as my brother and sisters.
In the coming months Dina and my sisters, their husbands and my brother birthed a clothing line showcasing my artwork. We were kick starting a new Family business. They knew where to get the textiles in bulk at discount prices. I wrote a letter to the secretary of the state of North Carolina for information about trademarks and everything needed to start a business in North Carolina. I thought about how my son’s mother could have been a part of this if only she could think.
I began practicing different clothing designs as drawings. I then began practicing making drawings on clothing. I used the library’s computer with a painting program called Gimp.
I thought about having sex with Dina. I told her. I also told her I didn’t want her to jeopardize her job. She told me she felt the same way. I just left it at that for a while.