Buttons Square or Round

 If it is as it seems

That he was loving me

By loving another woman

Blacker of skin that me

For her to rip me off

On that basis because

Only that he

Was so accustomed to she

Charging him

With being so far too whiter then she

Yet in that same family

Are we all held in our own accountability

That the problem you see

Is far bigger than just she

Or he

Who imagined wrongly

My debt to she

But that he had so been conditioning me

In my Dreaming

To be believing

That he wanted to be with me

When all along

He was just only himself believing

That if his former black girlfriend

Who was in fact perhaps Acquainted with me

That it could only be

By my debt to she

That he might so in be accountably

Receiving of worth from me

That I will speak no ill of the past

In which I have had no part

Yet that my

Dreams have been filled and brimming with

Ever since

He

Mistook me

In myself he conversed with

For that black woman I let into my home

As a favour for her to save her

Own family

The situation now critical

Has made an implausible

Yet possible

Leap into the false world in which

Chemical weddings are unfurled

In which my own family

Sold my soul to his people

By having believed

What the black woman’s people

Report of me

That buttons and bows

Might be dealt this blow

For the bare feet I had been wearing

Were in no lawful context able

To be discriminated against

As though defining me alike to

A prostitute

Upon which basis

Have many these families

Fallen aligned with

Only that shaytan

But all in one family

Might we well be

That it falls to me

To correctively

Acquit this story

That the buttons and bows

Of money in flow

Were that in my hair

Is string to bare

Of Babylon’s fare

Will I take you all where

Revelations are real

Today and to feel

In this my account

That is if

It is round

Square and even

And sound

I have had a very unusual experience during the past few days, which is relevent for many Muslims, perhaps, so I would like to share the knowledge I have acquired.

But the context in which my experience is contained is a bit unusual also, and difficult to describe without making myself seem very suspicious; so could I ask for anybody who has not read any of my posts about Australian culture to try to attempt to bear in mind that the way in Islam can be different within the Indigenous Australian belief, that is it is within the Arab mainstream.

To contextualise this experience properly I might best put it within the whole Dreamtime context, But I expect that not every Muslim will want to know all that. However I will try to place the context of our culture in as brief a way as I can.

First is the cultural premise that if a stranger is on our land, (this applies to every non-Indigenous person here), and they believe in a certain way or certain story, that we are obliged to either learn their story to disprove it, but learn it is wrong through attempting to live with it, or, to learn their story so as to relate it into, and accept it as part of, our own stories. That is, we can not have people on our land who believe in a different story from us, without making that story also our own.

Within that belief there are a number of significant facts of a historical relationship with the immediate social conditions. First is that our oral histories recorded in story, where such have been well upkept, have record of Muslims being welcomed here, first in the north between seven and eight hundred years ago. The Muslim story is obviously one which the majority our selves oriented to as wanting to own.

Within that want to own Qur’an as of our own action, there is a specific comprehension, which might be uniquely Australian, but I do not know. It is about assessing a story for its worst possible outcomes, and in belief also in those, to find the way to let that worst happen with the minimum potential negative social outcome. So way back at the height of the Empire of Islam, a few of our ancestors, decided that because we need to own all the stories of Islam, Qur’an and Ahadith, that we must ensure that when our children become trapped under a mountain, it will be those children best adept at surviving the experience and turning it into a positive consequence. To the best of my knowledge, so as to achieve that, we adapted to a very slow gradual process of converstion into the Ummah, and not all of Australia was yet converted when a new set of non-believers from China also arrived in the north, about 350 years ago. And then only two hundred years ago the Europeans arrived with evidence of the traces of Islamic culture apparent among. Specifically we always oriented to acceptance of the Bible from the European invasion, because we had knowledge of its worth from the Mujahideen family blood among us. It is possible thus to argue that most Aboriginal Christians are already well within the Ummah.

Another aspect of our decision to make a slow gradual conversion was that it could enable us to cause that the maximum proportion of our population were converted fully in the first instance. To that purpose a number of significant, and popular, very well remembered figures in our leadership of antiquity, had the reputation of being those leaders whom were at the front of disagreements between the Muslim leadership and non-Muslim Aboriginal Australia: but within a pattern in which only believers could realise that those non-Muslim aligned leaders were enabling the Muslims to gradually convert more and more of us, while those very popular leaders who had not yet openly converted, were helping by managing the very bad criminals among our population, so that they were not too bad at preventing conversions to Islam. Within that pattern, what was happening was that the major leader was waiting for evidence of the causes of Qur’an to arise among the non-converted population, before he can convert. In this way, he planned to make all Islam our own.

That pattern of Indigenous social management of belief, is still very apparent in Australia, with many examples of believers existing among the criminal social structures; and significant part of whom are fully already certain in Islam being reality, but whom are not wanting to openly convert, or whom can not because of social conditions. Meanwhile, in the north and among Traditional Aborigines whom have retained culture, the belief orientation of belief in one God is today very divided between those whom have joined Christian Churches, and those whom will not because the Church money enables blaming. There is a set of anthropological literature about that dispute around the conversion to Christianity of Elcho Island in the Northern Territory. There was a pilgrimage made to Jerusalem by the people at Elcho who managed the conversion, and that conversion enables many Aborigines to openly profess to Christianity, where not many had earlier. It happened in around 1957. But that conversion can be construed also, as a part of the pattern of our Ummah orienting to ensuring that we manage to provide that maximum number of routes out of criminality and into Islam, as is possible.

Now about my strange experience. In the morning on Wednesday 25th, I was suddenly awoken late, and in Allah, with a very strong image in mind, of one among my sons welcoming me into the day time. Then after no sleep the following night, I slept early in the morning of Thursday, and was re-awoken exactly 24 hours later, also in Allah, with my son’s words again, but this time he spoke to me welcoming me into the day in Arabic. In between these two wakings, a strange sequence of events transpired.

I went to the Gold Coast, because I had a weekly train ticket out into more zones than I usually have, and realised that I had been wanting to go to the beach for a while, and that it will be less money to pay for the travel inside that train ticket, which was only valid until midnight on Wednesday.

Usually I find myself being under constant surveillance by police, but I managed to escape them that day, and they picked up the thread only the following day. It seems they assumed I had been at home all day Wednesday. But always what happens when the police mistake my whereabouts, is that the criminals whom use police corruption to acquire information, have picked up the thread; and while I was at the Gold Coast I became accutely aware of criminal surveillance of me. So I watched also to ensure that there were Muslim witnesses.

At the Gold Coast, I went to Surfers Paradise, and really only wanted to find a place to sit in comfort to finish my book binding. I noticed all the Muslim woman in Hijab of course, and later in the afternoon, I discovered that there was unexpectedly more money than I had anticipated, in my account, and so I had dinner there at the Persian Restaurant. I had arrived at the Gold Coast without a veil, and right after that meal, I found a place selling scarves on sale, and bought six for the sale price of only two, mashallah thanking the proprietor. I had a dialogue in my mind about what I was witnessing while at the Gold Coast, partly of the humour in the Australian way of mind, about how we are entertaining many Arabs but are still selling Halal meat next door to tatoo shops. On four occassions during the afternoon and evening, I wanted to write about my observations, and went into an internet cafe and made posts in an American Muslim internet forum, about my day.

Before this day I had already been cutting out many things from my diet in preparation for Ramadan, but during the day I had eaten: one meat pie, one can of soft drink; chicken in pomegranite and walnut paste with rice and yoghurt; one icecream; and one decaffinated coffee; and my intestines were hurting from over eating. I had been too worried about getting sand in my book to sit on the beach while finishing the stitching, but had made good progress on the train, so was not too worried.

The last of those times using the internet, made me late for the bus that could get me to Nerang in time for the train that could get me to Brisbane, in time for the last Ipswich line train. So first I decided to suffer paying for using the internet all night in Brisbane City, when arriving in the City. But then I had also missed the last bus which connects with the last train at Nerang. This situation was my fault because I had not realised when leaving Nerang, that I might want to be more than a couple of hours in Surfer’s Paradise, partly because I did not know about how much money was in my account, and when I knew I could immediately afford to be longer observing the tourism and economy at the Gold Coast, I was not able to prevent myself from staying longer. My father has accepted the situation in his way, of the facts about when which part of what money went into my account, and I am not short of any money because of the day.

The bus driver who told me about it being too late for the train, suggested that I spend all evening at the Casino since it is open 24 hours. I considered that option, wondering how I could be there and safe, without gambling. I then considered the other option of staying the night at a 24 hour MacDonalds, and felt too sick in my tummy to face the need to buy food so as to be able to accept the refuge of a MacDonalds, if the local environment outside was too dangerous to be alone at night. So I got off the bus at the Casino, as the bus driver had instructed. Remember that I am in veil, and the bus driver is not regarding it as unusual for a Muslim woman to consider staying awake all night at Conrad Jupiters; but I am regarding that fact as most usual in the bus driver’s failure of observation.

At the casino, I notice that there is a place to sit with a cup of coffee all night, but I do not want coffee, or food. So I sit in the foyer and continue with my task of hand stitching the binding on my writing.

After an hour or so, a man approaches me and asks my name. I won’t give it to him. He tells me his, and that he is owns the company that sells the poker machines. Then I tell him that I am only sitting there because I missed the last train. But he won’t believe me and is convinced that I am a prostitute. Then a friend of his comes to rescue him by explaining that I am going to be far too expensive for him. I am quitely trying to refrain from showing how shocked I am inside. A woman sits there also and asks me if I have to wear the veil. So I tell her about being in veil, and then a man who looks like a criminal tries to takes her away. But she really wanted the information about why another Australia is in veil, so I only told her that I believe many of our Aboriginal ancestors were already Muslim, and she takes my statement in good faith very happily, and departed with the criminal character, who took myself into his belief very suddenly. The two of them had really rescued me from the attentions of the first man, because they were who identified me to his friend as being very expensive company.

Then I went and sat at the cafe and ate garlic bread and half an iced tea drink, (the other half is still in my bag). Then I went back to the foyer and kept stitching my book up. Then the poker machine man approached me again, very drunk now. His name is John Tobin. He wanted me to have a cigarette with him, and another criminal looking character was outside, so I went to talk with that other criminal looking character. It was a sort of sudden fear in which I knew I would be safer with a different stranger. So I introduced myself to him. Because of that he first assumed that I was a prostitute also. So then after the men smoked, (and the criminal looking character had noticed that I was not behaving like a prostitute), all three of us sat down inside on the couches in the hotel foyer. The poker machine man, John Tobin, wanted to know what I wanted, and why I was really there. He started arguing with me against Islam.

So I told him, that all I want is for my children to be safely returned to me, and that I might find myself the correct Husband. He was telling me that he will ensure that those things happen, if only I do not make his casino a place that Muslims frequent.

This idea entertained my mind immensely, but I did not show it. I told him all about the terrible family court case; and how the evidence already is such that I could sue the Commonwealth of Australia if need be, and that the whole Ummah of Islam might find out about the situation if I take that avenue. He validated that he could ensure I get my children back.

I hope you can believe me that this whole situation was extraordinary for all witnesses.

In the first part of the whole interaction with the poker machine man, he was telling me about how much he dislikes Brisbane, (where his wife and teenage sons are), but that Cairns is a really nice place to live – and in that he was making the implication that Muslim tourists might be well off to visit Cairns. He later tried to offer me a bed in his hotel room for the night, and I had repeatedly declined. But then he offered me $50, at which I showed that I was openly insulted by the offer. Then the criminal looking character who had joined us, offered a much higher price for my company. John Tobin went away, and I am left with the criminal character for the rest of the evening, who is making consistent increases in his offer for me, but while being less and less convinced himself all the time, that he had any chance with me as a prostitute. In the end his offer was six hundren dollars, a ride on his Harley Davidson, and a key to his house.

But to comprehend that, I ought to describe a bit about the conversation we had. It became revealled that:
He is of Aboriginal ancestry and a believer;
But that he did not want that known about himself and was not likely to communicate such about me;
He had been put in an adult prison at the age of fifteen;
He read some of my poems about the experience of Aboriginal men in prison and validated that I knew very clearly, but within those patterns it is possible to validate such – of over-zealous denial in certain facts, but without lying, but rather being very clever with a few short statements said over and over again;
He has been in the Army and told me that the SAS at all times have the right to control the police force, and are the actual force backing up any undercover policing in Australia;
What he clarified for me about men’s experience in prison, is that the prisoners have a social structure which is governed by a man’s pysiological/emotional/mental/social responses to be sodomised, in which every man is judged in his social worth, only on those grounds, and in which the only way to be safe is to learn to not be at all sexually stimulated by the rape;
He expressed that Australians in general (and organised crime specifically) are not willing to work with Muslims who want to use the methodology which is labelled as terrorist, and that if any bombs go off in Australia they will actively prevent converstions to Islam here, but that the criminals here in Australia would work with any Muslims able to, in turning over to police those Muslims whom arrive with that intention in mind;
He agreed that the safe way for a Jihad here was through the Unions.

Then he departed explaining to me how long to wait before departing myself so as to avoid him waiting out the front for me. I caught a 6 am bus to Nerang, and then trains back home, and went to sleep. After I woke up later in the morning, I finished hand binding my book, and then went to my post office box. There was a present from my younger sister whom is kuffar in the post office box, of a book of the poems of Rumi, none of which I have read. The card from my sister detailed that she will now be able to always imply that my poems are a rip off of Rumi. So I promptly posted to the National Library in Canberra, my own book of poems, so that I have posted it for copyright before reading any Rumi.

These sort of days happen to me every now and again, but not usually with such signficance for many other Muslims.

Alaykumuassalamu waRamathuallahi wa Rabarakathuaha Rebecca Copas
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Trapped into Freedom True: