You Are Not Alone_Michael, Through a Brother’s Eyes (50 page)

‘He’s blessing you, and wishing you a good and safe onward journey,’ I was told.

Halima, out of random curiosity, then said, ‘Ask Waleef if he’s ever heard of Barack Obama.’

It drew a blank expression and our host was unmoved.

‘Ask him if he’s ever heard of Michael Jackson,’ she said.

Kareem relayed the question in their native tongue and the man started nodding and talking. ‘Yes! He knows Michael Jackson.’

‘Wait,’ I said. ‘He’s heard of my brother? Out here?’

The sage took his hands off my head, placed them together as in prayer and said two words of English: ‘Michael … Jackson.’

The two men either side of him were nodding, and one asked Kareem a question.

‘Yes!’ he replied. ‘This is Michael Jackson’s brother.’

At that, a teenage boy who had been standing in the doorway rushed off. A few minutes later, I heard a gaggle of children getting
giddy, jumping up and down. When I walked outside, there must have been 50 of them and more were coming out from behind the huts to swarm around me. They started to shout my brother’s name: ‘MICHAEL JACKSON! MICHAEL JACKSON! MICHAEL JACKSON!’ How was it possible that they knew of him in a place so detached from the modern world, without television? Kareem explained they sat around the odd crackling radio.

My eyes filled with tears: this was innocence, purity – this was what Michael was all about, and he had penetrated the most primitive, most remote of places. It blew me away, because those people had no preconceived ideas that would have tainted him for them. They knew Michael only as an incredible human being, an entertainer – and that is how the world should remember him; that is what he deserves.

I sat down to write this book two weeks after that visit, because it is important to me that people the world over understand who Michael was, what his legacy is, and how his time on earth was spent. I couldn’t have been more motivated to write after walking into that village, where I didn’t need to explain who he was or defend him. Those African children already knew his name, and the sound of it lit up their faces.

Halima threw me a bag of candy and I stood in the middle of the mêlée to hand it out. It was amazing to see the excitement that a piece of candy could bring. I remembered Michael standing at our back fence in Gary giving candy to the kids in the neighbourhood who were less fortunate. And now here I was in an African community that perfectly illustrated what he had been about all his life, surrounded by his ‘We Are The World’ children, who had nothing but love to give and joy on their faces as they shouted, ‘MICHAEL JACKSON! MICHAEL JACKSON!’

That is the power of what he achieved.

That is his legacy.

That’s my brother.

THE EARLY YEARS: Me as a boy.
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Bathtime for Michael and Marlon.
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Joseph’s pride and joy – his guitar, before Tito broke it.
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2300 Jackson Street.
UK Press/Press Association Images

Mother as the young woman who caught our father’s eye.
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HOPEFUL BEGINNINGS: Our first performance as the Jackson 5 was hyped as part of the ‘Tiny Tots’ “Jamboree”’. Notice the bandage over my eye in this publicity photo – I was still nursing my Katz Kittens collision wound!
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Our ‘discovery by Diana Ross’ was also big news.
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As this family photo shows, it was all about smiling for the cameras from an early age.
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LEARNING CURVES: A weathered photo of Michael, Marlon, Randy and Janet standing outside our Queens Road home in Hollywood.
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Michael went on to score good grades at Montclair School.
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He made our tutor, Rose Fine, proud.
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