Mohamed Said: SAL DAVIS AND CASSIUS CLAY (MUHAMMAD ALI) LONDON 1963

Introduction

2006...a decade ago...

''One day I was sitting talking with my friends at our baraza and there suddenly standing in front of my table facing me was none other than my childhood idol — Sal Davis. There was no way I could mistake the man. Four decades had passed since I last saw him. My mind raced back. I stopped speaking and stared at him in disbelief.

Standing there was a white haired version of Sal Davis, the man whose songs I had sung as a kid. A flood of memories swept over me. I could remember exactly where I was when I first heard Sal Davis singing Makini over the radio. It was at the house of my uncle, Bwana Humud, on Kipata Street (now Mtaa wa Kleist). This was 1963 and I was 11 years old. The flip side of Makini was the song Ayayaa Uhuru, which Sal Davis composed to honour Kenya and Zanzibar’s independence as both countries, got their independence in 1963. (The government banned Ayayaa Uhuru in 1964 after Zanzibar’s revolution because the lyrics mentioned Mohamed Shamte, the first prime minister and other patriots in the first Zanzibar government before the revolution).

As I sat there gaping at Sal Davis, these thoughts racing through my mind, a friend, Mahmud, broke the spelll, “Mohamed, let Sal Davis be! Let us go on with our story. You were saying?” That brought me back from the early 1960s to the present time. “No, Mahmud, do not talk like that! This is Sal Davis, my childhood hero. I used to sing and dance to his music when I was very little.” Sal Davis, surprised by my outburst and that generous introduction, held out his hand to me.''

FROM THE PAGES OF THE EAST AFRICAN MAGAZINE: SAL DAVIS ...

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My first encounter with Muhammad Ali is worth narrating I first met Muhammad Ali in 1963 in London and later in Frankfurt. I was working with the BBC Swahili Service and I was producing a program called “Sports Wiki Hii” which in means “Sports This Week.” Ali came to fight Henry Cooper in London. At that time he was known as Cassius Clay. I requested permission from the BBC to interview Cassius Clay. BBC made the necessary arrangements and an appointment was secured. Ali was staying in at the Regency Hotel in Piccadilly. I went to see him with my tape recorder and when I knocked the door of his suite Drew Bundini came to open the door. Bundini was a personal aid to Mohamed Ali. There is lot one can talk on Bundini and Ali. Bundini and Ali were inseparable. Bundini was all things to Ali during Ali’s carrier in the ring and was just as famous. Bundini was Ali’s handler, bodyguard, court jester, you name it. He was like a shadow to the champion. Ali brought into boxing things which had never been there before. He revolutionised and made the game to be more interesting and intelligent instead of it being sheer muscle and stamina. That is the reason people came to love Ali and the game during his reign.

I remember Bundini telling me, “Kid who do you want to see” I told him I wanted to see Cassius. Bundini called into the room, “Champ there is a kid here who wants to see you.” At that time Ali was not world heavy weight champion but Bundini used to refer to him as “champion.” I introduced myself as Salim Abdallah. I was not yet Sal Davis at that time. Ali asked me, “are you a Muslim?’ I told him I was a Muslim. Ali asked me to tell him about Islam. “I am interested in this religion,” Ali told me. “Do you know Elijah Muhammad?” He asked me. “I belong to that sect.” At that time Ali had not yet converted to Islam. I interviewed him and he asked me to come back to the hotel in the evening so that we can go out together for dinner.

I went back that evening and I took them to a restaurant at Baker Street called “Diwani I am.” This was an Indian restaurant which was famous for oriental cuisine. We were five of us, Muhammad Ali, Angelo Dundee, Bundini and me. This restaurant was to become a point of attraction in London when Ali became famous because they displayed Muhammad Ali’s photos dining there. I do not know if the restaurant is still there and if it is there if the photos are hanging on its walls. It was in 1964 that Ali announced that he was a Muslim.

When I was in Paris I used to stay late to watch Ali’s fights. He had defeated Sony Liston and Ali was now the world heavy weight champion the greatest of all time as he used to call himself. I met Ali again in 1966 in Frankfurt, Germany. I was going to Kenya but since I heard that Ali was in Frankfurt to fight Germany heavy weight champion Karl Mildenbeger I decided to first fly to Frankfurt before going to Nairobi. Ali had set his training camp in a hotel in the centre of Frankfurt at a place known as Zeil Street. This is the main street in Frankfurt. There was a gym at the top floor of the hotel. If you take lift to the gym the lift door faces direct towards the gym. I took a lift up I was with a friend of mine called Al Jones he like me was in the show business. As the door opened I came face to face with Ali who was in the ring spurring. Ali shouted at me, “Salim I am a Muslim now. Don’t go anywhere I want to talk to you.” There were a lot people watching Ali training and all of them turned and looked at me wondering who I was. “No Champ I am here,” I shouted back.

After finishing sparring he went to take shower and then he sent for me. I went and we sat together on a bench and we talked. “Can you come for breakfast tomorrow early morning, I do my running then I have my rub then I have my breakfast,” Ali told me. He was staying at the Intercontinental. I went to the hotel early morning about 12.30 am. He did his running then came back to the hotel for his rub. We were together as his handlers worked on him. After finishing we went for breakfast. What I remember about that breakfast in Frankfurt is that Ali was eating only meat, big chunks of meat six pieces in all. The meat was imported from America. Ali had a very big built. After that I have never seen Ali again. Whenever I think of Paris I think of Muhammad Ali.

(From: ''The Life of Sal Davis by Sal Davis,'' Sal Davis and Mohamed Said (Unpublished)