"The thirst always wins," Salim Debol said to himself as he slaked his thirst in the Archway Bar, located in the heart of metropolitan Juba City, Capital of South Sudan. On that particular evening, the African metropolis felt hotter than Hell. Salim wandered into the air-conditioned bar, seeking a refuge from the summer heatwave. The tall, dark-skinned young man drowned away his sorrows as he downed one beer after another. Salim's rapid alcohol consumption earned him a strange look from Lamika Garang, the establishment's lead bartender.
"It's been that kind of day, Salim?" asked Lamika Garang, a six-foot-tall, dark-skinned and curvaceous South Sudanese woman of about forty. Salim smiled at Lamika and nodded, then licked his lips. Lamika grinned, and poured Salim another shot. Whoever thinks that African Muslim men don't drink clearly has never met Salim. The South Sudanese brother could drink the sturdiest Irishman under the table. Salim paused his drinking for a bit, and looked at the television set. There was something on the news about Canadian missionaries arriving at the Juba International Airport. Salim scoffed derisively as he watched the news report.
"Lamika, we've been over this, South Sudan doesn't need foreign missionaries, my sister, I've lived among these people, and they hate all things Black," Salim said angrily. He was a regular at the Archway Bar, located close to his new job at the South Sudan Ministry of Infrastructure, and Lamika knew his issues. Lamika shot him a look, sighed and then grabbed the remote. The bartender changed the channel, and an African romantic comedy began to play. Salim sighed in relief. Nice to see that Juba's entertainment sector was doing alright. Lamika looked intently at Salim, and he gulped down his last beer, knowing that the lady was now curious about him.
"Something has happened to you, I can tell," Lamika said, and Salim bit his lip and looked at her. How to answer the lady's question? It has often been said that one can never go home again, and after six years in Canada, Salim viewed his homeland of South Sudan differently. The nation of South Sudan isn't the hopeless, failed state that CNN and CBC claimed it was. Salim saw South Sudan as a place that was full of potential. The issues which the South Sudanese people faced, such as healthcare, food shortages, infrastructure issues and the like, could be solved with time and hard work. For these hardy people, Salim's people, there was nowhere to go but up...
"Canada is not the land of sweetness that many of us Africans think it is," Salim said firmly. Lamika nodded expectantly at him, sensing a story. Salim closed his eyes for a moment, and his thoughts drifted back to his old life in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Salim was officially a dual citizen of both Canada and South Sudan, but he'd vowed never to return to Canada after what he endured there. How much abuse and mistreatment can a man endure until he's had enough? Salim had reached that breaking point a long time ago...
"Tell me all about it, brother," said Lamika, smiling seductively at Salim, who sighed and nodded. The memories tugged at Salim's consciousness, and he surrendered to them. The Archway Bar and its clients, about eight men and five women, vanished utterly, replaced by a vastly different landscape. Salim came to Ottawa full of hope, determined to earn a degree from Carleton University and build a life for himself. The young Afro-Sudanese didn't know about the dangers and hardship which awaited him in the Canadian Capital. Canada isn't the bastion of friendliness and tolerance that a lot of outsiders think it is, that's for damned sure. Of course, this was a lesson that Salim had to learn...
While trying to earn a civil engineering degree from Carleton University, Salim got to know his new campus, and the outlying metropolis which surrounded it. Canada was a complex land, home to a unique people who seemed innocuous and friendly on the surface, but had passive aggression and covert hostility in abundance. In the City of Ottawa, if you're a foreigner and a person of color, the person smiling to your face is often the one stabbing you in the back. Salim befriended a few other international students at Carleton University and focused on his studies.
"Let me tell you about my journey in Ottawa," Salim said to a smiling, eager Lamika. Leaning back on his stool, Salim began to tell his tale. As a six-foot-six, dark-skinned African man, Salim often got stared at wherever he went in Ottawa. Whether he was walking the hallways of Carleton University or striding through the Rideau Shopping Center, Salim was stood out. He was a stranger in a strange land and there was no escaping it. Salim spoke English and French fluently, having learned both languages back at Saint Therese Academy in his hometown of Juba City, South Sudan. The brother knew how to navigate Ottawa, but the place was complex, to say the least.
Salim remembered how one professor, Nicolas Bacic, would ignore him in class when he raised his hand to ask or answer questions. The professor, a middle-aged, dark-haired and bespectacled White man originally from Eastern Europe, was quick to answer whatever question that the White guys and White gals in class asked. The professor even seemed fond of the Chinese students and the Indian students, but the Black male students seemed to attract his scorn. The fact that Salim loved engineering and continuously got good marks did nothing to deter the professor's attitude toward him.
"Salim, my dude, you're a Black Muslim man in Canada and you're smart, the White dudes are going to be intimidated by you everywhere you go," said his good buddy and roommate Raphael Vincent, a tall and skinny young Haitian man. Salim looked at Raphael, and considered the young man's words. Raphael was born in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, to Haitian immigrant parents and seemed to possess profound insight into Canadian society. Salim was smart when it came to academia, but he had a lot to learn about life in Canada...
