A Different Kind of Ice Cream

Readability

A Different Kind of Ice Cream

by baldilocks

Orig­i­nally posted Novem­ber 23, 2009. Edited.

There use to be a mosque near my home, but the adher­ents have since move their digs to Cren­shaw Boulevard.

The con­gre­gants were all black, but I’m not sure if they were Black Mus­lims (Expla­na­tion: back in the day, the dis­tinc­tion “Black Mus­lim” indi­cated that the per­sons under dis­cus­sion belonged to the Nation of Islam and there­fore sub­scribed to the ide­ol­ogy set forth by Eli­jah Muham­mad—an ide­ol­ogy con­sid­ered an anath­ema to other Mus­lims. These days, the term merely means a Mus­lim who is black, that is, they may be NOI adher­ents or they may not be. I make the dis­tinc­tion to indi­cate that I did not see any­thing other than black peo­ple com­ing and going from that mosque, but that’s not a sur­pris­ing thing in South Cen­tral Los Ange­les and, there­fore, no indi­ca­tion of whether the mosque belonged to NOI or not.)

A sev­eral years ago, some­thing occurred that I’ve thought about every now and then, espe­cially after read­ing about ter­ror attacks. At mid­day, I was in the back of the house in my office — blog­ging, of course. At some point, a noise entered my con­scious­ness. It was a voice, a tinned one and, as I lis­tened I became aware of three things: that the voice was male, that it was com­ing out of a bull­horn and that it was repeat­ing the same phrase over and over again. How­ever, I could not make out the words at first.

As the vol­ume decreased, I orig­i­nally thought that the ori­gin of the voice had moved on. But it had only gone around the block a few times. Finally, the ori­gin of the voice came back around on my street and, appar­ently, the dri­ver decided to park for a few min­utes almost directly in front of my house. The unin­tel­li­gi­ble phrase was being repeated once more. And once again.

Finally I got up from in front of my com­puter, went to the front of the house, peered through the blinds of the large pic­ture win­dow in the liv­ing room and…froze.

The voice was com­ing from speak­ers attached to the type of truck that is some­times used by ice cream ven­dors. The truck was spot­lessly clean and gleam­ing white except for the design on the side: the huge blood-​red star-​and-​crescent sym­bol of Islam.

The occu­pant had been exhort­ing the res­i­dents of this neigh­bor­hood using a two-​sentence phrase, most of which I have blocked out of my mem­ory. But I do remem­ber one part and, really, it’s the only rel­e­vant part. The occu­pant was advis­ing us to…

Embrace Islam.”

By the time I gained the pres­ence of mind to grab a cam­era, the gleam­ing white truck had moved on. I haven’t seen it since.

From the time that it came to light the Major Nidal Malik Hasan basi­cally warned the FBI and the Army of what he was – if not of what he was about to do [at Fort Hood in 2009] — I’ve been think­ing of that “ice cream” truck and what that par­tic­u­lar ven­dor was sell­ing. Aren’t jihadis required to warn their infi­del foes and invite them to con­vert before any attack?

Embrace Islam,” he said. Left unspo­ken was the alternative.

Juli­ette Akinyi Ochieng blogs at baldilocks. (Her older blog is located here.) Her first novel, Tale of the Tigers: Love is Not a Game, was pub­lished in 2012. Her sec­ond novel ten­ta­tively titled Arlen’s Harem, will be done on Feb­ru­ary 2017! Fol­low her on Twit­ter.

Please con­tribute to Juliette’s JOB: Her new novel, her blog, her Inter­net to keep the lat­ter going and COF­FEE to keep her going!

Or hit Da Tech Guy’s Tip Jar in the name of Inde­pen­dent Journalism!

baldilocks

by baldilocks

Originally posted November 23, 2009. Edited.

There use to be a mosque near my home, but the adherents have since move their digs to Crenshaw Boulevard.

The congregants were all black, but I’m not sure if they were Black Muslims (Explanation: back in the day, the distinction “Black Muslim” indicated that the persons under discussion belonged to the Nation of Islam and therefore subscribed to the ideology set forth by Elijah Muhammad—an ideology considered an anathema to other Muslims.  These days, the term merely means a Muslim who is black, that is, they may be NOI adherents or they may not be. I make the distinction to indicate that I did not see anything other than black people coming and going from that mosque, but that’s not a surprising thing in South Central Los Angeles and, therefore, no indication of whether the mosque belonged to NOI or not.)

A several years ago, something occurred that I’ve thought about every now and then, especially after reading about terror attacks.  At midday, I was in the back of the house in my office—blogging, of course.  At some point, a noise entered my consciousness.  It was a voice, a tinned one and, as I listened I became aware of three things: that the voice was male, that it was coming out of a bullhorn and that it was repeating the same phrase over and over again.  However, I could not make out the words at first.

As the volume decreased, I originally thought that the origin of the voice had moved on.  But it had only gone around the block a few times.  Finally, the origin of the voice came back around on my street and, apparently, the driver decided to park for a few minutes almost directly in front of my house. The unintelligible phrase was being repeated once more.  And once again.

Finally I got up from in front of my computer, went to the front of the house, peered through the blinds of the large picture window in the living room and…froze.

The voice was coming from speakers attached to the type of truck that is sometimes used by ice cream vendors. The truck was spotlessly clean and gleaming white except for the design on the side: the huge blood-red star-and-crescent symbol of Islam.

The occupant had been exhorting the residents of this neighborhood using a two-sentence phrase, most of which I have blocked out of my memory.  But I do remember one part and, really, it’s the only relevant part.  The occupant was advising us to…

“Embrace Islam.”

By the time I gained the presence of mind to grab a camera, the gleaming white truck had moved on.  I haven’t seen it since.

From the time that it came to light the Major Nidal Malik Hasan basically warned the FBI and the Army of what he was–if not of what he was about to do [at Fort Hood in 2009]—I’ve been thinking of that “ice cream” truck and what that particular vendor was selling.  Aren’t jihadis required to warn their infidel foes and invite them to convert before any attack?

“Embrace Islam,” he said.  Left unspoken was the alternative.

Juliette Akinyi Ochieng blogs at baldilocks. (Her older blog is located here.) Her first novel, Tale of the Tigers: Love is Not a Game, was published in 2012. Her second novel tentatively titled Arlen’s Harem, will be done on February 2017! Follow her on Twitter.

Please contribute to Juliette’s JOB:  Her new novel, her blog, her Internet to keep the latter going and COFFEE to keep her going!

Or hit Da Tech Guy’s Tip Jar in the name of Independent Journalism!

baldilocks