Algerian Hijabi Bbw at Wal-Mart

A few months ago, I met this cute gal at Wal-Mart, and I decided to make her mine. Samira was her name, and this tall, curvaceous and deliciously big-bottomed Arab cutie looked simply gorgeous in a modest Hijab coupled with dark pants, and the drab blue uniform that all Wal-Mart workers are required to wear. I see pretty girls of all hues and faiths in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, but this one, well, there was something different about her.

The name is Salomon Duchene, though I go by Suleiman, since I converted to Islam. I was born on the island of Haiti and raised in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. I moved to the City of Ottawa a few years ago, after winning a coveted international scholarship at Carleton University. I hate this boring little town with a passion, but until I complete my MBA, I'm stuck here. I can't go back to Boston empty-handed. My uptight Haitian parents would have a field day with me. Thanks but no thanks.

You see, my parents, Paul Duchene and Marianne Jean-Duchene moved to Boston from the island of Haiti in the mid-1990s. I was only a few months old at the time, and have basically lived my entire life in Massachusetts. I went to Emerson College, where I got my bachelor's degree in business. I tried to get into Suffolk University, my parents alma mater, but apparently my grades weren't good enough for their MBA program.

The thing about Boston is that it's an uppity town, no matter how racially diverse and friendly they came to me. Sure, Boston is the town where Deval Patrick, our first State's African-American Governor, got elected, but there is a pecking order in this vast metropolis. I graduated from Emerson College with honors. Small school, to be sure, but I had a great time there.

Now, I definitely should have been able to get into Suffolk University. These fools rejected me. I felt disgusted with myself, and my parents disappointment only made things worse. I just wanted out of Boston, after a while. Boston is the home of America's intellectual elite, but I felt trapped there. So I left, and moved far away. That's how I ended up in Ottawa.

So, I went to Wal-Mart to buy a few things after a long day at the call center where I work. Answering people's dim-witted questions about credit cards all day for sixteen bucks per hour isn't easy, but someone has to do it. I walked into the store, and went straight to the grocery aisle, and bought a few TV dinners, a couple of gallons of orange juice, and then got ready to skip out of there.

As I reached the checkout counter, I noticed one of the cashiers, a plump middle-aged Black lady, in idle conversation with a skinny older White guy. Never one to interrupt folks for no reason, I went to the next cashier. It's the polite Haitian in me, I guess. I looked at the tall, curvy Arab beauty behind the counter and smiled. For some reason, my heart skipped a beat. I looked at the gal and she looked at me, and I smiled.

I looked at the pretty Arab gal's nametag and read the name "Samira" out loud, and she smiled at me. I don't usually flirt with random ladies, but I smiled at Samira and told her my name. Ahem, my Muslim name, that is. Suleiman is a good, strong name. I chose it partly because it's the Arabic form of my francophone name Salomon, and also because I had a good friend named Suleiman, whom I worked with as a contractor at the National Gallery of Canada a few years ago.

As Samira rang my purchases, I took a good look at her. The pretty Arab gal chatted incessantly, and in between bits and pieces, I learned a bit about her. Samira speaks slightly accented English and flawless French, and I'm guessing that she's either Algerian or Moroccan. After living in the City of Ottawa for a few years, I've learned a thing or two about local Muslim culture, and I can now tell the difference between the Arabs and the North Africans. They look significantly different from each other, the Lebanese, the Saudis, the Moroccans and the Algerians.

After completing my purchases, I looked at Samira, and wished her good day, then I walked out of Wal-Mart with a smile on my face. I spent all day on the phone, talking to annoying housewives, bored shoppers, and obsessive-compulsive buyers, and I honestly hate my job at times. Since I came to Ottawa, I've held every type of job, from shelf stocker at Loblaw's to Tim Horton's cashier, and to me, working at the call center was a step up.

I swear, people treat you like shit when you wear a uniform, do menial labor and make minimum wage. In the City of Ottawa, people are so stuck up it's not even funny. I got treated like shit at Tim Horton's and Loblaw's. The call center only pays slightly better but the job has some definite perks. Now I get to wear a silk shirt, silk pants, dress shoes and a silk tie instead of a drab uniform, and I proudly hang my work ID with my picture on it at the center. Like all the pontificating, smug government workers you see walking around downtown Ottawa during the weekday.

Anyhow, I headed home with thoughts of Samira swirling about my head. Now, let's see. The pretty Arab gal did tell me that she studies mathematics at the University of Ottawa, and I already know that she works at Wal-Mart. Let's see what I can do with that. Thanks to Google, you can find out pretty much anything about anyone. Granted, I didn't have a last name for the Arab cutie, but I am not about to let that stop me. Time to do a little cyberstalking, oops, I meant a little investigating.

I crept the lovely Samira on Facebook, and found her profile. I saw a picture of Samira, whose last name is apparently Belkacem, wearing a beige Hijab, and smiling that fearless smile of hers. The lady's profile was kind of bare, just a few images of Arab life, or North African life, I guess, since Samira's Facebook profile says she's from Algeria. Very interesting, I thought.

The bareness of Samira's Facebook profile didn't surprise me. Most pious Muslim women don't show a lot of pictures of themselves online. Call it a cultural more, or personal preference. I am Muslim but I am not like the Arabs, the North Africans and other people born and raised in Islamic countries. I am a Haitian-American guy, newly Muslim, living in the Capital of Canada.

Yes, I am a Muslim but don't ask me what I think of Islamic female circumcision, Terrorism in the Middle East and West Africa, and all that bullshit. I believe in the abiding principles of true democracy, I respect women's rights and religious freedom should be the foundation of every society in my book. That's how I truly feel. I swear, tell people that you're Muslim and they've got a list of annoying questions to pester at you. Just thought I'd get ahead of the game.

Anyhow, back on topic. I sent Samira a message via Facebook, just a friendly greeting, introducing myself and reminding her where we met. Feeling quite satisfied with myself, I logged off Facebook, took a shower and went to bed. Seriously, I was dog tired and had a busy day at work the next day. Sitting at the phone for nine solid hours, cramped down in your cubicle, and hoping the plump, jolly and middle-aged White woman in the next cubicle would stop farting...it's definitely not easy to be me.

The next day, I woke up, showered, ate breakfast and then headed to work. I work in the east end of Ottawa. The call center where I spend most of my days overlooks a vast shopping center, a bank, a few stores including a Wal-Mart, and a nearby movie theater. I live a few blocks from the Saint Laurent Mall, in a nice little area called Vanier. It's, ahem, an eventful area of Ottawa, to put it politely.

In the City of Ottawa, Vanier has become synonymous with bad, and that's just fine by me. A lot of people think it's a seedy part of town because it's poor, and lots of Arabs, Africans and Asians live there. Me? I love the area for its diversity and culture, and although I make seventeen hundred dollars ( after taxes ) every two weeks, I like to live simply.

Why do I do that? Oh, the reason is both simple and personal. I remember the days when I made ten bucks per hour at Loblaw's, breaking my damn back. I don't believe in splurging. I have twin accounts with CIBC and TD, and I save every penny that doesn't go toward rent, groceries or personal maintenance. A penny saved is a penny earned, even if the Canadian government did away with the penny some time ago.

In Vanier, I can rent a two-bedroom spot with a private washroom, a kitchenette and a living room, all for eight hundred a month. That's including utilities, by the way. I pity the fools from work who choose to live in pricy areas of Ottawa like Barrhaven and Orleans. I give financial advice to people on the phone all day concerning credit cards, personal savings, and long-term and short-term loans. Might as well take my own advice.

I was sitting at my desk when, out of boredom, I decided to listen to some music on YouTube. There's an epic video I really like. It features that ultra cool African-American superhero, the Smallville version of The Martian Manhunter, with Green Day's song Boulevard of Broken Dreams playing in the background. Black superheroes are kind of rare on television, and I really loved that Smallville featured two of them, the Martian Manhunter and Cyborg.

When it comes to television, a lot of people have accused me of being stuck on the past. I really don't care. I like what I like and I don't apologize for it. Any of it. I really don't much care for today's shows, so I watch reruns of the stuff I grew up with like Smallville, Angel, Buffy, Profit, Roswell, Highlander, Seinfeld and the like. The cool stuff from the 1990s and early 2000s, not today's ridiculous, pathetic excuse for cutting edge television. Creativity has gone downhill in Hollywood. That's my story and I am sticking to it.

At some point, I got bored and went to Facebook, to see what my friends were up to. One of the things one must do as a working professional in Ottawa is be careful while online. There's a local politician who got removed from office following controversy over remarks he made about minorities. Word to the wise, don't post stupid and controversial shit online. I saw something in my inbox, and opened it up. Lo and behold, it was a message from Samira Belkacem, the Hijab-wearing north African cutie from Wal-Mart.

I smiled to myself as I read Samira's reply. The cutie from Algeria definitely remembered me, and even sent me a friend request. I eagerly accepted it, of course, and then I had to restrain myself from doing the victory dance. Seriously, I don't normally meet hot chicks from other cultures, and when I do, it seldom goes over smoothly. I chatted with Samira for a few minutes, and then she invited me to some event that she was hosting. A meeting of business-minded Muslim students in the Ottawa area. Sounds good to me, that was my reply to Samira.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, looks like I've got myself a date. Alright, I am getting way ahead of myself. Still, Samira Belkacem of Algeria is a cutie, and the gal is definitely ambitious if she's organizing business meetings and organizing people of different backgrounds together. I definitely like smarts in a woman. Alright, so I don't have Samira's number yet, but I plan on asking her at that meeting, for, ahem, business purposes. Hey, I'm always looking for new opportunities, everywhere I go. Wish me luck, folks.