Djibouti Christian Woman

We all lead different lives. And none of us is exactly what he or she appears to be. The same holds true for me, I guess. My name is Farah Al-Mokhtar, and I was born in the City of Khor Angar in the Republic of Djibouti. I've been living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario, for the past fifteen years. I'm twenty years old. A lot of people are surprised when I tell them that I am a Christian. While it's true that the Republic of Djibouti is ninety four percent Muslim, six percent of the total population of my native land is Christian...and growing. Religious freedom is a cornerstone of Djibouti society, even though it's a country heavily influenced by Arab and Somali politics and culture.

These days, I study Criminology at Carleton University. I used to study Police Foundations at Algonquin College, from which I graduated two years ago. Next year I will graduate from Carleton University with my bachelor's degree in Criminology. I want to attend Law School either at the University of Toronto ( if I actually decide to stay in Ontario) or McGill University in the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec. I've always been a smart, academically driven kind of gal. A lot of people in Canadian society think that Somalis and Djibouti people are a bunch of lazy, criminally inclined losers who suck the life out of the generous welfare programs of Canada. That is such a fucking stereotype! Um, pardon my French, ladies and gentlemen.

While a lot of Djibouti people and Somalians are like that, I'm not one of them. And I know plenty of Somalis and Djibouti folk who are hard-working and self-sustaining. They're the ones you never hear about because the biased Canadian media doesn't think it would make a good story. So they focus on the negative stuff. Save a life and nobody notices. Kill someone and you're front page news. That sort of thing. If you ask me, what the media and the world at large need are more positive stories. Maybe then the world wouldn't be the depressed, angry place that it is today. Anyhow, enough about my rants. I've got a story to share with you. Most people haven't heard of Djibouti Christians any more than they've heard of Arab Christians. The fact is that both exist. Last year I dated this handsome young man named Joseph Farouk, a Lebanese Christian. I really liked him and we had a passionate relationship. Unfortunately he was an international student at Carleton University and he returned to his hometown of Baalbek, Republic of Lebanon, last summer. I still miss him sometimes but I've got to move on.

There are about a hundred and fifty Djibouti Christians in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, spread out among the scores of Djibouti Muslims and Somalian Muslims living in Canada's capital region. We recently formed our own church. The Holy Tabernacle of Djibouti. While most of the church goers are from Djibouti, as is to be expected, we also have some Somali Christians ( they do exist) and Arab Christians among us. We have a handful of Ethiopian Christians at our church. Even though we're a Christian establishment, some of my fellow Djibouti have issues with the Ethiopians. Why? Let's just say that there is a long story of conflict between the Ethiopians and those of us who live in places like the Republic of Djibouti and Somalia. Ethiopians don't like us one bit. And honestly, we don't much care for them. The frightening thing about it is that a lot of Djibouti folk and Somalians maintain their antagonistic stance toward Ethiopians even though we live in Canada, a land where we're all outsiders. That's a crying shame because we're geopolitical neighbors and if we got along better, life might be easier for us, both in Canada and back home.

Anyhow, one Sunday morning, I went to church and Pastor Ben-Hassan was preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ to our predominantly Djibouti congregation. The Pastor is a short, round little man with light brown skin, curly Black hair and light brown eyes. Born in the City of Baki in Somalia, he moved to the City of Boston, Massachusetts, with his parents when he was much younger. Although born into a Muslim family, he converted to Christianity while attending Northeastern University. As can be expected, his Somali-American family disowned him. He didn't let that stop him, though. He went on to obtain dual degrees in Law and Theology before moving to Canada at the age of twenty eight. Now, more than twenty years later, he's the leader of all Djibouti Christians and Somali Christians in Canada. If we Somali Christians and Djibouti Christians had our very own pope like the Coptic Christians of Egypt have theirs, Pastor Ibrahim Ben-Hassan would be the one. He's done a lot for the community and has authored seven non-fiction books about the rise of Christianity in predominantly Muslim nations in Africa and the Arab world. He's been on CNN, Black Entertainment Television as well as Radio Canada and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. He's a brave man. The only thing I don't like about him is that he married this blonde-haired and green-eyed plump white chick named Mildred O'Connor, who's originally from the City of Halifax, Province of Nova Scotia. Why do all of our finest brothers got to marry white women? Sheesh.

Anyway, that Sunday morning while Pastor Ben-Hassan was preaching, he introduced us to his guest. A tall, fine-looking brother who definitely didn't look Djibouti, Somali or Ethiopian. We have a certain look, people from the Horn of Africa. The populations of Eritrea, Somaliland, Djibouti and Ethiopia resemble each other because we're closely related. We have a unique look that others from sub-Saharan Africa just don't have. I knew this fine brother in the suit wasn't one of us, but I didn't know what he was. Pastor Ben-Hassan finally killed the suspense. He introduced our two-hundred-plus congregation to Mitchell Albertson Etienne, formerly of the City of Hartford, Connecticut. Mitchell was apparently the son of Hartford's famous Haitian-born pastor James Etienne, a long-time colleague of pastor Ben-Hassan and his former roommate at Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts. Mitchell was an international student at Carleton University. He was spending a year in Canada.

The tall, fine-looking young Haitian-American took the podium, thanked the pastor for the introduction, and praised God for allowing him to safely travel from New England to Ontario. He looked at us and smiled, and said that all Christians everywhere should stick together, especially since we were being persecuted in the Middle East and certain parts of Asia where Islam was the state religion. Those words deeply resonated with our congregation. We're Lebanese, Djibouti and Somali Christians for the most part, with some Ethiopian Christians among us. Most of us came from predominantly Muslim nations where Christianity was reviled. Most Christians living in places like America, Canada, Latin America, the Caribbean, Australia, Europe and New Zealand didn't know how Muslim majorities treated Christian minorities around the world. They amazed me with their naïve mindset toward Islam. In my homeland of Djibouti, even though we're more religiously tolerant than most predominantly Muslim African nations, I'd be ostracized for being a Christian. And Somali men and Somali women who became Christians face the death penalty for apostasy in their homelands. Islam is an easy religion to join but leaving it can often mean your life. Death is the punishment for apostasy, which is the act of leaving Islam.

Looking at Mitchell Albertson Etienne, I wondered if an American like him knew the trials and tribulations someone like me endures for her faith. I had him dismissed as yet another American know-it-all, albeit a pretty one, until he spoke to me after church. As everybody got ready to leave, he bumped into me and apologized. I looked into the brother's handsome face...and froze. Hot damn. He was much better-looking up close, actually. He kind of looked like that sexy Black actor from the old television series The Famous Jett Jackson. His brown eyes and chocolate skin were...mesmerizing. I excused myself for staring, and he smiled, introducing himself. Again. I shook his hand, and introduced myself as well. His handshake was warm and friendly. He wished me a good day, praised the Lord, then excused himself. I watched him go. Hmmm. Brother had a really cute ass. Hot damn. They sure make Black guys pretty in America. What we got up here in Canada is....subpar. Not always but far too often for comfort.

I went home that Sunday morning with a smile on my face. Monday morning outside the Carleton University library, guess who I ran into? Mitchell Albertson Etienne. The sexy Haitian-American stud from Hartford, Connecticut. It was a cold morning in early September, and in typical new-guy fashion, he was asking directions to the Loeb Building. I tapped him on the shoulder, and his eyes widened with surprise ( and recognition) when he realized who it was. Thankfully he remembered my name. I smiled at him, welcomed him to Carleton University and told him I was going to Loeb ( I really wasn't) so I offered to show him the way. And since I felt oh so friendly that morning, I linked my arm with his. A lot of chicks walking by checked us out. I smiled at them. Just marking my territory and staking my claim to a fine piece of man meat, bitches. Keep walking. Mitchell was a bit surprised that I was so forward, but I smiled and told him that it was a "Djibouti custom". He nodded at that, and we made our way toward Loeb. Hmmm. I've got a good feeling about this one, ladies and gentlemen. His ass is mine. And that's that.