Brother Naba’a Muhammad will be known by many titles: editor-in-chief, managing editor, journalist, radio host and media professional. But one of his most important titles was “daddy.” He will be remembered by many who knew him as a good father.
Brother Ibrahim Muhammad remembers a young Brother Naba’a, who was known as Richard at the time, living in Washington, D.C., when he was interested in marriage and asked for Bro. Ibrahim’s daughter’s hand in marriage.
“He was a young brother in the Nation at the time; he was very active,” Bro. Ibrahim told The Final Call. “He was working with N.O.I. (Nation of Islam) Security, in journalism school and seemed very impressive. He was a blessing from the beginning. Naba’a was a hard worker.
I remember him making sure that my daughter was always taken care of, and he loved his boys. He loved his sons. He made sure that they, to the best of his ability, had whatever they needed, in order to progress and become strong young men.
“He was a good family man who later moved to Chicago to write for The Final Call. His family moved with him. The next thing I knew, he’s moving up the ladder to become the editor-in-chief of The Final Call. He was a very good father to his sons, to my grandsons.” Bro. Naba’a’s oldest son Richard’s first child, a boy, was born June 5, the day before his grandfather passed.
Bro. Naba’a was the father of six children, four boys and two girls, from two marriages: Bro. Richard 36, Bro. Emmanuel 35, Sis. Kopano 26, Bro. Kabelo 24, Bro. Karabo 22, and Sis. Kamohelo 19, are his children who fondly remember their dad.
“My father, Richard B. Muhammad, was more than just a parent to me and my siblings—he was our hero, our compass, and the clearest example of how to move through this world with honor, compassion, and love,” Bro. Richard Jr. told The Final Call.
“He didn’t just talk about values—he lived them. Every day, he showed us how to treat people with dignity, how to walk with integrity, and how to pour love into our family and community,” he said.
“He was a man deeply committed to his family—always present, always guiding, always giving more of himself than he took. But his care didn’t stop at our front door.
He carried a profound love for his people and a steadfast dedication to the principles of the Nation of Islam. His faith wasn’t just something he believed; it was something he embodied with grace and humility,” Bro. Richard continued.
“Through his actions, he taught us how to face life’s challenges with resilience, to greet others with kindness, and to lead not by dominance, but by example. His legacy lives on in the way we love, the way we treat others, and the way we continue to honor his name.”
In 2024, Bro. Naba’a wrote an article on Black fatherhood for his column Straight Words that was published in The Final Call. “Black fatherhood is one of the joys of my life. I didn’t have a relationship with my father and for many years growing up, I declared I didn’t need a father.
Indeed, when I looked at many of my friends and peers, it seemed like perhaps I was better off without a father. There always seemed to be conflict between fathers and sons.
“I vowed to be a better father and a real father, like the one I never had. But not having a daddy did impact me greatly. I think it contributed to feelings of insecurity and it brought up a deep question I later realized had lingered in my subconscious mind: ‘If my father didn’t love me, could anyone, could any man be trusted to love me?’”
The answer to that question was found in Bro. Naba’a’s work with the Nation of Islam. He found purpose and meaning in his life, especially in his life as a dad.
“For all my years of believing and declaring that I didn’t need a father, I did need a dad. And it was through divine providence and Allah’s (God’s) Power, the Supreme Wisdom of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, leader of the Nation of Islam.
And love contained in the words of Minister Louis Farrakhan that I embarked on a healing journey and one that allowed me to reconcile with my own father,” Bro. Naba’a wrote.
“Through the magic of audiotape cassettes and video cassettes (so you know how long ago that was), this man in Chicago touched my heart, soul and mind in Washington, D.C. He gave me a mission:
The spiritual, moral, mental and economic resurrection of Black people in the service of nation-building and as a soldier in the Nation of Islam. I wanted to be a helper to my spiritual father.
I dove right in though I was on a path to ‘success’ in the world of those who destroyed us. But I didn’t want their world with its lies, hatred, humiliation and degradation of Black people.”
He added, “I wanted to build a world of my own and a world for children I had not yet fathered. I also wanted to be a ‘father’ to those like me who never had one and my mission allowed me to do that. I joined other Black men with that same commitment to fatherhood in the home and surrogate fatherhood to our suffering people in the wilderness of North America.”
That’s the world his son Kabelo was born into. “My dad used to do this thing called Salaam Saturdays in our neighborhood. There’s a school right behind our house. He would set up like a party. He would bring boxes of chips, cotton candy, and other snacks.
We had music playing, and everybody’s having a good time at this festival. There was all this good stuff, just spreading the joy and the love of community for our people,” he told The Final Call.
“My dad was strict, but of course, he was still loving. Dad didn’t play no games, and my mom didn’t play any games either. Everything was say, ‘please and thank you.’ ‘Make sure you get your chores done, do your homework.’
Their working together helped us be the best human beings that we could possibly be. My dad was funny, too. We were always cracking jokes, laughing and having a good time whenever we were all together.”
Bro. Kabelo wants people to know that his dad was incredibly supportive, loving and caring.
“Whenever I needed to talk to somebody, especially somebody that wasn’t going to be judgmental, it was very easy to talk to my dad. My dad would come at us from a different perspective. It was easy to talk to my dad about anything, to be completely honest.”
Bro. Kabelo will remember the many songs from the 1980s and ’90s, old-school hip-hop that his father loved to hear and play for his children. “One of his favorites songs was the Sugar Hill Gang’s ‘Rapper’s Delight.’
I remember the A Tribe Called Quest album ‘Beats, Rhymes and Life’ he bought me for my birthday. My favorite song was ‘1nce Again.’ I was listening to it today and it reminded me of my dad.”
Bro. Naba’a’s daughters, “his girls,” were also the apple of their father’s eyes. He often spoke on the accomplishments of his children and his admiration for seeing them grow and develop into young adults.
Bro. Naba’a concluded his column on Black fatherhood with the following: “So as a proud papa of six, I embrace and promote the majesty of Black fatherhood. I salute my fellow fathers and surrogate fathers in our families, our neighborhoods, and those keeping our youngsters from running these deadly streets.
I love each one of my children and I believe every Black child should have the love, safety, opportunity, knowledge of self and self-development my offspring have had. Why? Because I am a Black father. Period.”
His second son, Bro. Emmanuel sums up his dad, “My father was a community leader who fostered brotherhood and unity wherever he went. His mentorship was unparalleled, both within our family and beyond.”