A lot of people talk bad about the Dirty South, and I can totally understand a lot of their viewpoints. My name is Claire Jane Warren-Sankara, C.J. to my friends, and I was born and raised in the City of Fayetteville, North Carolina. My family, the Warren Clan, is as redneck as they possibly come, and they had a veritable fit when I fell in love with Ibrahim Sankara, a tall, smart and handsome Muslim student from Burkina Faso whom I met at Georgia State University.
My parents, Edward Warren and Elisabeth Jones-Warren of Fayetteville, North Carolina, disowned me the day I told them that I loved Ibrahim Sankara and wanted to marry him. I haven't spoken to them since that fateful day, almost twenty years ago. I don't regret it, folks. My future husband Ibrahim Sankara and I were of decidedly different faiths and races, but that didn't stop us from being crazy about each other. Love is what happens to you when you least expect it, folks.
To this day, when Ibrahim and I are out and about with our sons Adam and Yousef, people tend to stare at us. Even in these supposedly modern times, it's not easy for interracial couples in the Deep South. Time does not heal all wounds, and just because it's the mid-2010s doesn't mean that White folks down South are okay with seeing Black men with White women. My family and I reside in a two-story, four-bedroom house in a middle-class neighborhood, and let's just say that we know where people stand.
In the Deep South, people don't hide what they feel on such controversial topics like interracial marriage, same-sex marriage, religious differences and cultural issues. I am the White wife of a Muslim immigrant from Burkina Faso, a lovely country in West Africa. I know how people look at me. Dale Hardwick, one of the managers at the accounting firm where I work, looked at my family with disgust when he came by my office to beg for a promotion. For this reason, I rejected his demand for a promotion and Dale has hated me ever since.
My husband Ibrahim and I are just a normal couple with our ups and downs. Our eldest son Adam recently left the nest, and attends Morehouse College. Our other son Yousef is a senior at Cadmus Military Academy, a private school located in the City of Huntsville, Alabama. Empty nest syndrome, that's what my husband Ibrahim and I are going through these days. Lots of middle-aged couples whose sons and daughters have moved out have to cope with an empty house. Ibrahim and I are having problems, folks. I just hope we can get through it.
I still love my husband Ibrahim, even though we've been going through some trying times. Tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, with dark brown skin and a smooth shaved head, Ibrahim Sankara is a very handsome man at the age of forty six. I am still crazy about that fit, muscular body of his. That's why I am so mad that Ibrahim has been cheating on me with Rosa Santiago, a plump Hispanic woman who works as a secretary at the law office where he works.
My husband Ibrahim doesn't know that I know about him and Rosa Santiago, that Mexican bitch he is so fond of. Sometimes I wonder why Ibrahim bothers with that tramp, seriously. I've checked Rosa Santiago out and she is not all that. I'm a far better-looking woman than she is. At the age of forty six, I stand five feet eleven inches tall, curvy but fit, with blonde hair and light green eyes. People say that I look like Hollywood starlet Felicity Hoffman, from that old TV series Desperate Housewives. I think I'm far hotter than her, but whatever. Let people think what they will.
As an educated Black man with an established career ( high-powered attorney ), my husband Ibrahim has always had lots of women after him. As the wife of a handsome man who is popular with the opposite sex, I know how to deal with it. Throughout our marriage, Ibrahim has been faithful to me. I supported Ibrahim when he attended Emory University's School of Law. I work as an accountant, so I know the demands of a career. Where I come from, women support their husbands and the husband is the head of the household. That's how it works in the Deep South.
In the house next to us lives a man named Malcolm Yasimoto, a Japanese engineer who is divorced. Mr. Yasimoto studied civil engineering at Oxford University and teaches at Georgia State University, my alma mater. I always found Malcolm Yasimoto kind of nerdy, and I know he has a thing for me but I always ignored his advances because I am in love with my husband. I am a good wife. I reserve myself for my husband Ibrahim Sankara, the man that I love. That's the way it's supposed to be.
Slowly but surely, Malcolm Yasimoto and I became friends. When his Jamaican girlfriend Stacey Wellington left him, ending their eight-month romance abruptly, Malcolm confided in me. In turn, I confided in Malcolm about my marital troubles. One night, while my husband Ibrahim Sankara was at work, I was surprised to find Malcolm Yasimoto at my door. There was something in his hands. I invited Malcolm Yasimoto inside, and he showed me a videotape of my husband Ibrahim Sankara committing adultery with Rosa Santiago, his Mexican tramp.
Malcolm Yasimoto went to the DVR in the living room and played the tape. I braced myself for what was to come, and still I wasn't ready. I watched, amazed, as my husband Ibrahim appeared on screen, in what looked like a motel room. I was stunned when Rosa Santiago joined him on the bed, and they got naked and began having sex. A cold fury coursed through me as I watched Rosa Santiago get on her knees and suck on my husband Ibrahim's long and thick, magnificent West African dick.
