Paistani Wife for Haitian Man

"I can heartily and sincerely say that I truly love Islam, the beautiful faith that I was born into, but the behavior of my fellow Muslims completely disgusts me sometimes," I said to my reflection as I got ready for my midweek date with my fiancé Bruno "Ismail" Ishmael Dorvil, the young Haitian Muslim gentleman I consider to be the love of my life. I looked at myself in the mirror, and a five-foot-seven, curvaceous young woman with long black hair and dark bronze skin looked back at me with misty brown eyes.

So much has happened to me in recent times. I graduated from the University of Ottawa with a bachelor's degree in Journalism. I began a job with the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce as a call center operator. Oh, and I fell in love with the most wonderful man, and my family cast me out, purely out of spite over my romantic choices. As if you can help who you fall in love with...

"Hey babe, hope you're ready, I'm downstairs," read the text on my cellphone, and I smiled as my 'boo' Bruno sent me a smiley face. I replied, and then finished putting on my makeup, took a last look in the mirror, and then promptly exited our apartment. I found Bruno outside, checking his watch. That's the thing with my favorite Caribbean stud, he's got many fine qualities but patience definitely isn't one of them.

"Well, would you look at our leading lady," Bruno said by way of greeting as he gave me a quick peck on the lips, then took a step back and looked me up and down. A wicked smile spread across Bruno's handsome face, and he licked his lips appreciatively. That's the Bruno I know and love, ladies and gentlemen. Always checking me out, even though we've been together for a while...

"That's right, I'm fine, and don't you dare forget it," I said, and Bruno pulled me close, and embraced me passionately. It felt nice, to stand there in my building parking lot, hugging my man. Six feet two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of Caribbean masculinity hugged me tight. After all that we've been through, it's almost a miracle that we're still together. Lesser people would have been broken by the hell we were forced to endure.

"Aneesa, let's go," Bruno said, and I nodded, and then got in the car. We drove away from our apartment in the neighborhood of Gloucester, and headed to the Silver City movie theater. They're showing the epic movie Batman V. Superman on just about every screen, but I've seen it twice, once by myself and the other time with Bruno. The movie was alright, though I found Ben Affleck's interpretation of the vigilante Batman a bit too scary. Bruno is super nerdy and drags me to all of the superhero flicks. The only one I liked was Deadpool. Tonight, I was in the mood for something lighter.

"Let's check out My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2," I said, and made a pouty face when Bruno hesitated and stroked his bearded chin. Bruno sighed, and then nodded, and I smiled victoriously. With this dude I always get my way, I swear. Hand in hand, Bruno and I lined up at the box office, and as we made our way there, quite a few people stared at us.

Once, those stares would have bothered me. Not anymore. In the eyes of the mundane world, I, Aneesa Basharat, am just another pretty young Pakistani woman living in the Capital of Canada. I'm proud of the Pakistani-Canadian community in which I was born, but I refuse to let the boundaries of culture and tradition stop me from living my life my way.

I was born in the City of Sargodha, Pakistan, on October 30, 1992. My parents, Bashir and Naima Basharat moved from Pakistan to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, in 1996. I honestly haven't left Canada since. I've been here practically my whole life and speak English and French fluently, with no discernible accents. I am proudly Canadian, which doesn't mean that I've overlooked my Islamic faith or Pakistani heritage. Far from it. Indeed, I walk a fine line, ladies and gentlemen.

I led a fairly sheltered life, thanks to my overprotective parents. My Baba ( father ) is an engineer who works for Hydro Ottawa, and my mother is a computer systems engineer working for the Avaya Corporation. My older brother Faisal is studying law at the University of Toronto. We led comfortable lives in the Ottawa suburb of Barrhaven, my family and I, until I fell in love with someone from a very different background, and got one hell of a reality check.

"You get the tickets, babe, I got the grub," I said to Bruno, who smiled and nodded. A little over a year ago, Bruno and I met at an Islamic Society of South Ottawa meeting. Bruno was a recent graduate of the civil engineering programme at Carleton University and a newcomer to Islam. This brave young man took the podium and shared the tale of how his Haitian immigrant family, proud Catholics one and all, rejected him after he embraced Islam.

I wasn't the only one in the audience, made up of reverts as well as born Muslims, who felt moved by the tall, handsome and well-dressed young Haitian's powerful testimony. I didn't even know Bruno yet, but I felt that he was an exceptional young man. How many people would have the courage to stick with their faith if their mother, father and sister basically disowned them for it? Not many, that's for damn sure.

"You got this," Bruno said, and I flashed him my naughtiest grin, and then playfully slapped him on the ass. A few seconds later, I ducked away under the cord barring the box office lineup from the movie theater's busy main hall. I went over to the food counter and got two slices of pizza and bottled juices, and frowned as the cashier, a pimply and chubby white chick, rang the order.

"I'll pay with my MBNA Mastercard," I said with a bit of a grimace, and Pimple Gal looked me up and down, and placed the pizzas and drinks on the counter in front of me. The total came out to twelve dollars. Sheesh. I frigging hate movie theaters and how they overcharge for food and drinks. I live within walking distance of a restaurant called One for One Pizza, and let me tell you, at that place you can get a full meal for what these movie theater bozos charge for a couple of slices.

"Got the tickets, babe, here's yours," Bruno said to me, and he handed me my ticket. We walked down a long and rather poorly lit hallway, and gave the tickets to the tall, bored-looking young black dude standing at the podium. Dude sliced our tickets in half and gave us the stubs, then gestured to theater room number seven. Bruno and I went in, and lucky for us, they were still showing the previews.

"Let's go sit upfront," I said, gesturing toward the four sets of seats closest to the theater screen. People, I wear contacts for a reason and without them, I can't see shit, excuse my Pakistani. Bruno grumbled something and I smiled and linked my free arm with his. We sat on the very last row, straight in the middle, and at last, I allowed myself to relax. Alright, so I'm a bit of a control freak and like to fuss over the details. Don't like it? Sue me.

As the previews ended and some annoying voice reminded us to turn off our cell phones, I leaned my head against Bruno's shoulder. My man put his arm around me and I sighed happily, inhaling the sharp scent of his too-strong cologne, which I bought him. I closed my eyes for a moment, and willed myself not to think about recent events which pain me, such as my disowning by my parents.

"You're no daughter of mine, if you would choose to share your life with one of these damn African buffoons," those words came from my mother, Naima Basharat, the woman who bore me. Those were the last words that we exchanged, Mother and I. You see, in Muslim communities, there is a strong prejudice against people of African descent. That's just the way it is. By defying my parents, I was breaking a great social taboo, and marking myself as an outcast.

Peoples from the South Asian communities will call me a liar, but one of the reasons why the British were able to conquer us is because of our self-hatred and our fondness for division rather than unity. The darker-skinned peoples of South Asia are hated and seen as low-class by various others, and even though the days of colonialism are over and the vast South Asian nations of India, Pakistan and Bangladesh are independent, hatred based on skin color, religion and sectarianism are all too evident in our societies.

"Mother, I am your daughter and I will always love you but my life is my own," I retorted, and then exited the house in which I was raised, presumably never to return. I knew exactly what I was doing, and the hell that I was in for. For a South Asian woman to defy her family and cast her lot with a man of African descent is unheard of.

The hatred for people with darker skin tones is ever-present around the world, but it has unique nuances in South Asian societies. For example, in India, the darker-skinned peoples were once collectively known as the Untouchables. An entire strata of society considered to be inferior for purely superficial reasons. When people think of racism, they think of the treatment of Blacks by whites in place like America and South Africa. As if us Asians are somehow immune to it. Ha!

Seriously, if you think the rednecks from the sticks and the covertly racist yet outwardly friendly liberals have something against interracial marriage, they're nothing compared to the prejudice such couples face in South Asian communities. I once read about a black American woman who was killed by her Indian boyfriend's father because he disapproved of their union. Yeah, the racism in South Asian communities is that deep. Could such a fate befall me? Yes, that's why I've taken steps to protect myself. I have my job, my own place, and last but definitely not least, my man. That's all I need.

"Something on your mind, babe?" Bruno whispers, and I shook my head, just as the movie began. I saw the first My Big Fat Greek Wedding a very long time ago. Seeing the sequel over a decade later on the big screen thrilled me, since I love romantic comedies, especially the ones with weddings in them. Tonight, though, the comedy I was watching did nothing to cheer me up, especially since it dawned on me that the day I got married, my family wouldn't be there.

"It's been a long week at the call center," I replied, and Bruno looked at me, his eyes boring into mine, and I smiled bravely, then fixed my eyes on the screen. I wasn't sure that Bruno believed me, and to be honest, I didn't want to get into a conversation about what I was feeling. I made my choices, and I've got to live with them, end of story. The movie was a blur, folks. I honestly don't remember much about it. At the end of it, I guess my inner turmoil was reflected on my face, and I could no longer hide it from Bruno...

"Aneesa, I know something is up, come on, you can tell me," Bruno whispered into my ear as we walked about Gloucester Mall, hand in hand. I looked at Bruno, and sighed deeply. How could I break this to my dear Bruno without hurting him? We've both been through so damn much lately. We're both rejects. His family disowned him for leaving Haitian-flavored Catholicism and mine disowned me for loving him, even though nothing in the rules of Islam prevents Muslims of different colors from marrying each other.

"Alright, Bruno, well, you see, all this wedding business, it's made me pensive, you know, the day we finally get hitched, neither of our families will be there," I said rather quickly, and I bit my lip as I waited for Bruno's answer. Bruno stroked his bearded chin, cocked an eyebrow and sighed, then put his arm on my waist. I looked at him, wondering what thoughts ran through his mind.

"Is that truly what plagues your mind, my love? I've got you and you've got me, until the end," Bruno said, and then he cupped my chin in his hand, and smiled. Looking up at him, I saw confidence and grim determination on that handsome face of his. That's my Bruno, the defiant one, the man who fears no one. All the love I felt for this tall, brilliant yet taciturn young man welled up in my chest, and I smiled up at him.

"I know, my dearest Bruno, sorry for ever doubting," I managed to get out, before Bruno smiled and kissed me. I kissed Bruno back with all of the passion I could muster, and then just like that, all of my doubts vanished like ice in the sun. Hand in hand, Bruno and I walked back to the car, and then drove back to our place. I felt giddy, like a weight has been lifted. And I knew the perfect way to unwind...

"Dammit, woman, you're killing me," Bruno whispered, a few hours later, as he lay in my arms, his body glistening with sweat. I smiled and kissed Bruno on the lips, then playfully tugged on his chest hairs. As Bruno winced, I placated him by planting a kiss on his crotch, and then I stroked his manhood, which was both long and thick. Bruno stopped his protests as I took him into my mouth.

After making love to this man countless times, I know his body as well as I know my own. Almost. As I sucked Bruno's dick, I slid a finger up his ass. Bruno loves having his ass played with but can't admit it. I've fucked him with my dildo a few times. Real talk. Bruno groaned but said nothing as I fingered his butt while going down on him. In no time I had Bruno harder than a rock, and when he shouted a warning that he was about to cum, I welcomed the torrent of liquid masculinity which shot out of Bruno's dick.

"Best way to go," I said, smiling at a stunned-looking Bruno as I licked my lips, tasting him. Bruno sighed and nodded. I straddled him, as if I wanted to ride his dick, and instead I sat on Bruno's rather surprised-looking face. Seriously, what is it with some men? In this life, it's all about give and take. No one gets anywhere on their own, you know.

"Eat this ass," I said sharply, and Bruno did as he was told, and I began riding his face. How I love the feel of his tongue and fingers in my pussy and asshole. While women from the vast realms of Southern Asia are thought to be a prudish lot, I am quite the sensualist and don't bother to hide it. I like to be pleasured, and feel no shame about it.

A few minutes later, Bruno put me on all fours, face down and ass up, as he ate my ass and fingered my pussy. I rocked back against him, grinding my rather large derriere against his face. Bruno is definitely an ass man and you know what? That's right up my alley. I've got one hell of a booty and men of all shades have lusted after it, but I give it only to Bruno, the man I call my chocolate prince...

"Damn I want your ass," Bruno said, looking at my ass as I shook it from side to side after he finished eating it. I didn't reply and instead winked at Bruno and pressed my ass against his groin. Bruno got the hint, and rubbed his hard dick against my pussy lips. With a swift thrust, he entered me. At last, my chocolate prince and I are finally one.

"Smash it well my dude," I cried out, even as Bruno gripped my hips and slammed his dick into my cunt. I live for the rough stuff, and Bruno is definitely the man to give it to me. The brother smacked my ass and pressed my face against the pillows as he gave me the wildest fuck I've had in a while. The brother pulled my hair and fucked my ass so hard, I knew I would find bruises on it come morning. Much later, Bruno and I lay in bed, feeling quite happy, as you can imagine.

"Got something else on your mind?" Bruno asked me as he playfully licked the areola of my left breast. I looked at Bruno, and bit my lip. Seriously, sometimes this brother's ability to read me borders on the uncanny. You see, I hadn't been totally honest with Bruno earlier when he asked me if everything was copacetic, and now, I realized it was time to fess up.

"Well, yeah, our fun and games have consequences, Bruno, I went to the doctor and, um, I've got big news for you," I said as I took his big, strong hands and placed them on my belly. Bruno looked at me, and gasped. I looked into his eyes and nodded, and then waited for his reaction. A lot of men tend to react weirdly when their lady announces her pregnancy, and I briefly wondered if my Bruno would be one of those.

"That's wonderful news, Aneesa," Bruno said, and then he gently rested his head against my belly. I happily let out the breath I hadn't even realized I'd actually been holding. My Bruno is simply amazing, I thought happily, and I thanked God for placing such a wonderful man on my path. Looks like we are going to be a family, Bruno and I and our unborn lad or daughter. Tears of joy streamed down my face, and when Bruno looked up, he smiled at me.

"Aneesa, I love you and I promise to be there for you and our future offspring, now get ready for round two," Bruno said, laughing as he pulled me close, and I happily got on top of him. A few pleasurable hours later, a finally exhausted Bruno lay next to me, snoring louder than the sacred cows of my countrymen's Hindu neighbors. In the darkness, I smiled. What a family we're going to make, seriously. My Bruno and I are both outcasts from our respective clans, forging a family of our own. Will wonders never cease?