"Hey buddy, don't make assumptions about me just because I'm from Saudi Arabia," Afsane Salman said vehemently, glaring at Aaron Vincent, and the big and tall, burly and dark-skinned young Haitian scholar almost flinched in his seat, a meter or so from hers. Even though Afsane was only five-foot-six, the chubby, bronze-skinned young Saudi Arabian Muslim woman had an intensity that defied explanation. Just what is her damn deal?
"I didn't mean to offend you, Afsane, it's just that we all know ladies from Saudi Arabia aren't allowed to drive or leave the house without a male chaperone," Aaron retorted, and Afsane rolled her eyes and sighed. Not for the first time, she wished she were tall enough to slap the hell out of this fool. The young Haitian's attitude irked her. Afsane was used to dealing with white people who stereotyped Arabs, especially Saudis like herself, but seeing a man of color doing so bothered her even more. Aaron was supposed to know better...
"Aaron, what if I told you that since you're from Haiti, you're supposed to be into voodoo and weird witchcraft stuff, those are the stereotypes about Haiti, aren't they?" Afsane retorted hotly, and Aaron glared at her, seemingly angry. There was an intensity in his brown eyes that hadn't been there before. Looks like I struck a nerve, Afsane thought with a wicked smile.
"Not cool, lady," Aaron said, and Afsane was about to reply to him when Professor Joe Dawson put an end to their little argument. He was surprised to see such heated arguments in the middle of a summer school session. The stocky, middle-aged man scratched his graying beard and looked from Aaron to Afsane, and then carefully stepped between them. For the better part of the half-hour dedicated to in-class group discussions, these two had been arguing endlessly.
"Whoa, Aaron, Afsane, please, I think we'll stop right there," Professor Joe Dawson said, and Aaron sighed while Afsane rolled her eyes. Shaking his head, the professor cleared his throat then looked at the other twenty or so students scattered across the vast lecture hall. Just another day at the University of Ottawa, Professor Joe Dawson thought to himself with a wry grin.
"What a fool," Afsane said to herself, a few minutes later, as she exited the international law class. The young woman left the room in a haste, still fuming after Aaron's annoying statements. Afsane had dealt with a lot of idiots in her lifetime but this one definitely took the cake. How could an otherwise intelligent young black man living in Ottawa be so eager to believe stereotypes about people from the other side of the world?
Born in the City of Dammam, Saudi Arabia, to a Saudi Arabian Muslim father, Yousef Salman, and an Iranian mother, Laila Jahedi, Afsane was the daughter of two very different worlds. Growing up in the City of Dammam, Afsane was used to hearing people say that she wasn't a true Saudi or even a real Sunni Muslim on account of her mother's Iranian heritage and Shiite faith.
To Afsane, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was a place that evoked strong emotion, both positive and negative. The tribal mentality upheld by the ancestors of modern Saudis in past centuries continued to dictate a lot of things in daily life across the Kingdom. In this conservative nation, considered by many to be the Heartland of Islam, Afsane never truly felt like she belonged. Even though her parents were wealthy, Afsane yearned for a different life. One far different than the one she was born into.
That's why Afsane jumped at the chance to study at a Canadian university when the Saudi government began offering scholarships to qualified young women to study abroad. At first, Afsane Salman was amazed by Canada and all of its wonders. Comparing life in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, to life in the City of Dammam, Saudi Arabia, was like comparing night and day. Afsane fell in love with the City of Ottawa, and embraced its vibrant culture, diversity and lively people...until some of them started to piss her off.
"Afsane, please, wait," came a voice, startling Afsane out of her thoughts, just as the young Saudi Arabian woman started making her way to Pasteur Hall. Whirling around, Afsane gasped in shock upon seeing who had called her. Aaron Vincent, the uncouth young Haitian student stood there, stone-faced. Afsane cocked an eyebrow, and her tiny hands curled into tight fists. What on earth did this fool want now?
"What do you want, Aaron? It's not enough that you humiliate me in class and insult my homeland, you got something else to add?" Afsane asked, through gritted teeth. Aaron stood five meters away, and smiled faintly while raising his hands toward the sky. Sighing deeply, he inclined his head gently and pursed his lips, looking quite contrite. Seriously, what did he want with her?
"Afsane, um, I wanted to apologize," Aaron said pleadingly, and nodded respectfully at her. Afsane looked at him, her brow furrowed in consternation. Looking into Aaron's brown eyes, Afsane saw that he appeared to be sincere. Even though his words back in the classroom still burned her, the young woman was willing to let bygones be bygones, as the North Americans say, if Aaron was serious...
"I don't know, Aaron, you really hurt me back there, a lot of white people think that Saudi Arabian society is barbaric and backwards, I dismiss their words because they don't know Jack about anything beyond North America or the Western world, you and I are both from societies which they judge before even getting to know, I thought someone like you could see me as human, instead of a stereotype," Afsane said, her words flowing, unbidden and unrestrained.
"Forgive me, Afsane, you're totally right, a lot of white folks only know that the Republic of Haiti suffered an earthquake a few years back, and they think they know our culture because they've seen a few Sci-Fi and Horror movies," Aaron said, and then he laughed. Afsane smiled a bit, and for reasons she couldn't explain, her heart skipped a beat. The Haitian brother's got a nice smile, Afsane thought. Her own thoughts surprised her...
"I forgive you, Aaron, now, let's try this again, I'm Afsane, pleased to meet you," Afsane said, and then she held out her tiny hand, which Aaron shook, after a brief hesitation. Like a lot of Muslim women, Afsane wasn't big on shaking hands, but this time, she made an exception. Afsane half-expected Aaron to crush her hand with his huge one but he was surprisingly gentle. Smiling at him, Afsane nodded gently and inclined her head, in the manner of her people...
"Pleased to meet you, Afsane, I'm Aaron, from Haiti, and I hope I haven't given you a bad impression of my people," the young Haitian said, smiling faintly, and Afsane smiled and shook her head. Aaron was definitely something else, the young woman thought. They stood there, staring at each other. They were still at it when a hotdog vender wheeled his cart and approached them, a big smile on his face.
