"Manal, seriously, this is what the toilets look like in Islamic countries? Really? No place for you to sit, you just squat down? Hot damn," Justin Melrose said, grinning and shaking his head as he looked at the picture of the tiled floor. Focusing on the image on the computer screen while smirking derisively, Justin failed to see the look of pure fury on the face of his companion, who simmered with anger.
"Justin, don't you dare insult my culture," Manal Assad replied tersely, and she grabbed his arm for effect, causing Justin to wince. He slowly turned to look at her, and paused. For the whole time he'd known Manal Assad, the short, curvy young Moroccan Muslim woman was timid, self-effacing and quiet. He'd certainly never seen her get pissed before, that's for damn sure.
They were in the University of Montreal library, working on a project called Islam & The West: Cultural Relativity for their Sociology IV Class. The day started out nicely enough, Manal and Justin met at school, grabbing coffee at Tim Horton's, and then they went to the campus library to work on the project. It was worth twenty five percent of their grade, and due in two weeks.
"Oh snap, my bad, Manal, I didn't mean to insult your culture or your religion, I honestly thought you were joking when you told me that this is what the restrooms look like in Safi," Justin said, choosing his words carefully. Manal was still glaring at him, but slowly her expression softened, and that timid smile of hers returned...briefly. Holding his hands up in surrender, Justin gently nodded at Manal, hoping she accepted his apology.
"You need to get out more, Justin, there's more to life than Montreal," Manal said, and with that, the young woman grabbed her purse and walked away. Justin watched her go, as did several patrons sitting on the quiet floor of the University of Montreal library. Dammit I done fucked up again, Justin thought to himself as Manal turned a corner and then disappeared from view.
"Foolish westerner, he's no different from the white people who call me names on the bus," Manal said to herself as she hastily exited the campus library. It was Friday, and in half an hour, around noon, Jummah prayers would begin at the prayer space so generously granted to the Muslim Scholars Association by the University of Montreal. Still fuming over Justin's words, Manal headed to there, hoping to beat the cross-campus traffic.
Justin sat at the computer for a long time, staring at the screen and not really seeing it. He kept running the events of the past half hour in his mind. Was Manal that pissed over what amounted only to a bad joke? Justin shook his head. He'd grown up in a rural area outside the town of Jacmel, on the island of Haiti. Justin had to deal with outhouses where he grew up, and even after moving to Canada for school, he still hadn't let go of his unique brand of toilet humor. Today it finally cost him, irking the hell out of his friend and classmate Manal.
"I've got to rectify the situation," Justin thought to himself, and the tall, dark-skinned young man rose from his seat, and made his way off the library floor. Where on earth could he find Manal? Justin called her, and his call went straight to voice mail. When he tried to text Manal, he didn't get an answer. Dammit she's really mad, Justin thought, feeling quite perplexed.
Manal stepped into the ladies washroom, and proceeded to take off her shoes and socks, washing her face, hands and feet while several young women looked at her, seemingly fascinated. Ignoring them, Manal cleansed herself, and then headed for the prayer space. There were six rows of crimson carpeted on the floor, and the brothers were already at prayer. Manal headed to the back, the sisters prayer spot, and knelt down and prayed.
"Jummah Mubarak, brothers and sisters, how are we today?" said the Imam, an older student who appeared to be of Somali descent. Manal sat down and listened to the Imam as he spoke about the importance of a good Muslim's conduct, especially when dealings with the trials and tribulations that plagued adherents of the Islamic faith in the province of Quebec.
"By the Grace of the Most High, we shall persevere," Manal said to herself, nodding in agreement as the Imam cautioned the brothers and sisters in attendance about the hostile climate facing Muslims of all hues in provincial Quebec nowadays. A gun-toting racist white male nutcase had gone into a mosque and killed several people. Mosques across Canada had been vandalized. It was a tough time to be a Muslim in Canada, that's for damn sure...
Manal thought of a recent incident on the bus. She'd been riding the bus from her apartment in Laval to the University of Montreal campus, and on that lengthy bus ride, she ran into a lot of French Canadians who stared at her. As a Hijab-wearing woman of color, Manal was used to being stared at everywhere she went, but that day, the stares were downright hostile.
"Espece de terroriste, retourne dans ton pays," shouted an angry-faced, blonde-haired and blue-eyed white woman in her forties. The blonde woman had gotten on the bus a short time after Manal boarded it, and she was not happy to see her sitting there. Blondie glared at Manal with such hatred that the young woman froze, unsure how to react. I don't even know you, Manal thought, and she got up from her seat and went to the middle of the bus. Amazingly, Blondie got up and followed her.
"Laissez moi tranquille, diablesse blanche, leave me alone, you white she-devil," Manal said angrily, when Blondie came around. This time, Manal rose and confronted the angry white woman, refusing to be bullied. The other woman was bigger than her and had to be close to six feet, a great deal taller than her height of five-foot-five, but Manal refused to let that intimidate her.
