"Yes, but they're making it a lot harder for the drug dealers. The police have a new method. I don't know exactly what it is, but they're there. Their presence makes a difference."
Hanging on the wall is a large dinner table-sized rug showing a young man with long, thin dread locks framing his mild face. It's Champ's only son, Jamaal "Scoot" Barker. His size 12 black sneakers rest on the windowsill. Champ also wears dread locks. Though bear-thick, imposing and with huge hands, Champ exudes gentleness.
"Champ, I want to ask about your son's name. Your last name is Behnett Ali, but his is Barker""
"In some circumstances, the children take their mother's name, and not the father's name because, uh, it might not be the father. I'm not saying that's the case with him." Champ looks over his shoulder towards the rug. "That's how you keep your lineage."
"OK."
"Because you know for sure that's your mother, you know what I'm saying?"
"But you know that's your son, though."
"I know that's my son, yeah, and he was in the process of correcting his name also."
"The first time I met you, you said you wanted to open a halal store, so I thought you were Muslim."
"I am."
"So you've changed your name?"
"No, I didn't, I corrected it. All I did was add a title to the end of my last name."
Ali means "elevated." Plenty of folks in Camden are elevated, of course, night and day. To get elevated, Amanda has become a borderless body. Hundreds pass right through her. Raised as a Jehovah Witness, Champ first became aware of Islam at age 15, but his conversion was gradual and he only fixed his name at age 47.
"My mother died when I was twelve, and I got sidetracked for a while, for maybe ten years. After that, I started to get conscious again. I was confused. My mother was a good person, and I blamed God for her passing. It's because of my lack of knowledge."
"Did she get sick?"
"She had cancer."
Hanging on the wall is a large dinner table-sized rug showing a young man with long, thin dread locks framing his mild face. It's Champ's only son, Jamaal "Scoot" Barker. His size 12 black sneakers rest on the windowsill. Champ also wears dread locks. Though bear-thick, imposing and with huge hands, Champ exudes gentleness.
"Champ, I want to ask about your son's name. Your last name is Behnett Ali, but his is Barker""
"In some circumstances, the children take their mother's name, and not the father's name because, uh, it might not be the father. I'm not saying that's the case with him." Champ looks over his shoulder towards the rug. "That's how you keep your lineage."
"Because you know for sure that's your mother, you know what I'm saying?"
"But you know that's your son, though."
"I know that's my son, yeah, and he was in the process of correcting his name also."
"The first time I met you, you said you wanted to open a halal store, so I thought you were Muslim."
"I am."
"So you've changed your name?"
"No, I didn't, I corrected it. All I did was add a title to the end of my last name."
Ali means "elevated." Plenty of folks in Camden are elevated, of course, night and day. To get elevated, Amanda has become a borderless body. Hundreds pass right through her. Raised as a Jehovah Witness, Champ first became aware of Islam at age 15, but his conversion was gradual and he only fixed his name at age 47.
"My mother died when I was twelve, and I got sidetracked for a while, for maybe ten years. After that, I started to get conscious again. I was confused. My mother was a good person, and I blamed God for her passing. It's because of my lack of knowledge."
"Did she get sick?"
"She had cancer."
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