Qatari Woman For Black Stud

Qataris aren't supposed to be broke, working at Tim Horton's just to keep a roof over their heads. We're supposed to be wealthy and powerful, that's my western friends say when I tell them that I was born and raised in the City of Al Ghanim in Qatar. I try not to roll my eyes as I remind them that not every person in the oil-rich regions of Saudi Arabia, Qatar and the United Arab Emirates is loaded. Just like even though America and Canada are wealthy nations, you'll find both the filthy rich and the heartbreakingly poor among their citizenry. I mean, they ought to know these things, it's common sense, right?

My name is Samirah Nasser-Danlami, and I'm a young Qatari national living in the City of Winnipeg, province of Manitoba. I've been living there since the summer of 2009. A few months ago my husband Adam's request that I be granted permanent resident status was approved by Citizenship and Immigration Canada, which is great because it makes my life a whole lot simpler. I can finally breathe, you know? I no longer have to worry about renewing my work permit and my social insurance card every year. The new health card I went to get at City Hall lasts for five years instead of only one year like the previous one I had back when I was a refugee claimant. I can apply for student aid funds from the government of Manitoba instead of going it alone.

Paying international student fees at the University of Saint Boniface was drilling a hole into my check book. I could only afford two or three classes per semester, given that I only made about seven hundred dollars every couple of weeks working at a Tim Horton's downtown. It's not much but it's enough for me. I like my job, even though it can be so boring and tedious at times. It enables me to pay my bills and I do alright for myself these days. I don't miss the old days when I lived in a big villa in metropolitan Al Ghanim with my family, and had servants to wait on me. Honestly, I felt trapped there. For a golden cage is still a cage. If you're not permitted to leave the place where you happen to me, then my friends I am sorry to say that this place is a prison. When I walked away from my old life, I gained the most precious things any human being may hold. My freedom as a human being, as a woman, and as one of God's flock.

People are often surprised to see me, an Arab woman from Qatar, at a predominantly Christian institution like the University of Saint Boniface. I'm five-foot-eight, somewhat chubby but not fat, with light bronze skin, amber eyes and long curly black hair that I love to tie into a bun since I stopped wearing the hijab. I've traded my loose-fitting shirts and long skirts for colorful T-shirts and jeans. And I've developed a fondness for cowboy boots. I bought my first pair from a saleslady at the airport during a visit to Calgary, Alberta, and I've been hooked ever since. Yeah, I love my new life.

Before I explain things any further, let's get some basic fact out of the way. Not all Arabs are Muslims and not all Muslims are Arabs. I was born into a Muslim family. My parents, Khadija and Qasim Nasser are devout Muslims but I am no longer Muslim, though I still believe in the One True God. I converted to Christianity back in Qatar, and that's part of the reason why I had to leave. My life would have been forfeit otherwise. Everything changed for me after a Nigerian-born Canadian construction worker named Adam Danlami saved me from my abusive husband Hassan, who made it his business to beat me whenever I didn't cook his meals properly, or talked back to him during one of his random rants. I was born into wealth and power, but walked away from it all, for love. I left Islam for the love of two individuals, Adam Danlami my rescuer, and my savior Jesus Christ.

In Qatar, lots of workers from places like continental Africa, the Philippines and southeast Asia routinely come to work in the construction sector. I honestly never paid attention to any of them until I met Adam Danlami, the tall and handsome construction chief. From the way he carried himself I could tell that he was different from the other dark-skinned foreigners, both male and female, who came to Qatar for work. When he spoke to my former husband Hassan, for whom he worked, he always looked him in the eye. Hassan would remark on Adam Danlami's mannerisms and apparent swagger, concluding that being raised and educated in Canada made him a cut above the rest.

Among us Qataris, there's a lot of prejudice based on your skin tone, which branch of Islam you follow, which clan you were born into, and of course how much money you have. There's a lot of money to be made in the sectors of construction, oil and mine work but the same things that lure so many foreigners to Qatar also trap them. You see, in many places in the Arab world, foreign workers need permission from their sponsors to leave the country. That's why so many female foreigners find themselves trapped in places like Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. Your sponsor essentially becomes your master and you become his or her slave. Most people don't know this about the Arab world. You enter at your own risk.

Until I met Adam Danlami, I had a low opinion of pretty much anyone who wasn't Arab, though like most of my people I felt a fascination for white people. White visitors to Qatar are treated with respect because we Arabs still have a healthy fear/awe of all things western. Non-whites in Qatar are treated like crap, that's the norm. Yet the new villa my husband Hassan was building was the brainchild of a civil engineer born in Nigeria and educated in Canada. When my husband invited this man to our house, it made waves in our small town. At the dinner table, Adam Danlami had everyone's undivided attention. My former husband, my brother, my sister and my brother-in-law wanted to see for themselves this man who walked through Qatar seemingly without fear.

Adam Danlami regaled us with tales of his days in Winnipeg, Manitoba, the town his parents moved to shortly after his birth. He studied civil engineering at the University of Winnipeg, and also played ice hockey there. He showed us fascinating pictures, and I think that's where my fascination for Canada...and him....began. During his stay at our house, I got to know Adam a bit. He was a devout Christian who prayed three times a day though Christian items like bibles and crosses are forbidden in Qatar due to Sharia Law.

Adam told me about the central figure of the Christian faith, Jesus Christ the Messiah, known as Isa Al Masih in Islam. To us Muslims, God is one, and the one called Jesus Christ by Christians is but a prophet. To hear Adam talk, the Jesus he spoke of wasn't just God made flesh, he was a personal friend. He spoke of Jesus with love, respect and real fondness. We Muslims speak of the prophet Mohammed with respect and we speak of God ( Allah ) with awe and fear. Muslims fear God. Christians love God. That seemed to be the most profound difference in our faiths, at least to me.

When I told Adam I wanted to hear more, he gave me his bible. A tiny and well-worn booklet that he snuck in with his luggage when he got off the plane at Doha, the Qatari capital. For the next few days, I became engrossed in reading this holy book which was forbidden by the most sacred laws of my people. I could read and write in English thanks to the year and a half I spent at Brunel University in the town of Uxbridge, England. I sped through the Old Testament, most of which was somewhat familiar to me ( due to Abraham being mentioned so prominently in the Quran as the father of Judaism, Christianity and Islam ) and I experienced shock and awe, fascination and revulsion when I got through the New Testament.

I fell in love with the kindness, wisdom and benevolence of Jesus Christ. To me as a Muslim woman, I was dismayed that a prophet of God would risk his life by standing between a crowd of angry men and the sexually amoral woman they came to punish by stoning. When I spoke to Adam about that, he smiled and told me that Jesus Christ respected women most of all. After this revelation, I became even more fascinated by Jesus Christ, the founder of Christianity, and Adam Danlami, the one who introduced me to him. I was really fond of Adam, but ours was a most dangerous friendship. In Qatar, women can be executed merely for speaking to a man outside their immediate family. Those who commit adultery or sexual immorality can and will be publicly beheaded regardless of their station in life, that's Sharia Law for you.

I knew what I was risking by meeting with Adam privately at our villa in Al Ghanim while my husband Hassan went to Doha City for business. I sent our servants home early so Adam and I could have the house to ourselves. We would meet in the library, and talk. I know that this doesn't seem like the kind of wild encounter you might expect of a married woman meeting with a male friend in private but for me, it was magical. How I enjoyed Adam's company. I was in the presence of a very handsome, deeply spiritual man who respected me as a person, and charmed me. He was so intelligent, so respectful and funny, so witty and charming. I told him that where he comes from, women must throw themselves at him all the time. When I said this, Adam grew silent. With his hands clasped before him, he told me that he had yet to meet the woman whom God meant for him to be with. In Christianity each man is allowed only one woman, Adam smiled, one must choose carefully.

Adam departed from the house shortly after that, and there was a sad look on his face as he wished me goodnight and returned to the guest room where he stayed. I sat alone in the library, lost in thought. So much was tugging at my mind and heart these days. My friendship with Adam, my fascination with the bible, and the pain I felt whenever I went more than a couple of days without seeing Adam. I clutched the bible against my chest, and lay on the couch near the book shelf, letting my mind drift into the ether. When I woke up, my irate husband Hassan was standing over me, having snatched the bible from my hand and demanding to know where I found such a profane book. He returned home unexpectedly and since When I refused to answer, for I wouldn't betray Adam, Hassan proceeded to beat me.

Hassan took out his thick black leather belt and proceeded to beat me with me. I screamed in pain as he struck my back, my arms, my legs, and even my face. The belt lashed out, striking the top of my head, and though my hijab provided some padding, my head hurt like hell. I saw stars, and howled in pain. Hassan kicked me, and I lay on the floor in a fetal position, bracing myself for more torment. I flinched from a blow that never came. Instead, I heard my husband Hassan do some screaming of his very own. I looked up, and saw Adam standing there, having caught Hassan in a bear hug. He lifted him off the floor, and smashed him bodily into the wall. Hassan crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

I looked at my fallen husband Hassan, then at my rescuer, Adam. I couldn't let him hurt you, he said in a choking voice. He extended his hand to me and pulled me to my feet. I looked at him, then at Hassan. I noted with relief that Hassan was still breathing. You have to leave, I told Adam. He nodded, and told me he'd get to Doha City and leave for the United Kingdom tonight. I nodded, for leaving was the best option for him. Adam looked at me, and picked up the fallen bible. I am sorry to have caused you pain, he said apologetically. When he said those words, something in me broke.

Never in my life had any man appreciated me for my intellect, or my personality. In Qatar us women are valued for our status as potential wives and mothers, and we belong first to our fathers then to our husbands. Our lives aren't our own. Our fates are decided by our gender and the restrictions placed upon us by our culture from the moment of our birth. I carry no chains but I am a slave, I told Adam. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Gently Adam pulled me to him, and asked me to come with him. When he said that, I stared at him like he had two heads. I can't leave my country, I'm a Qatari woman. I'm a wife. I'm a Muslim woman. I can't just leave my country, my husband and my family. Adam sighed, and reminded me of what awaited me when Hassan eventually woke up. He will kill you for the sake of his honor, Adam said sadly. I nodded, resigned to my fate.

Adam shook his head, and told me that I could come with him to Canada, he had a friend at the Canadian Embassy who could arrange it. I looked at him, feeling hope for the first time in ages. Together, under cover of darkness, we left the villa where I lived ever since I got married. We made our way to Doha City, staying away from the authorities. Together we left Qatar for Europe, and a few days later we arrived in Winnipeg, Manitoba. It's been four largely wonderful years, and Manitoba now feels like home to me. Things weren't always this easy.

The Canadian Embassy was literally besieged by my former husband Hassan, his family and their allies in Qatar once they found out where I went. Citizenship and Immigration Canada threatened to deport me to Qatar several times and it's only by a miracle intervention from the Immigration Refugee Board's humanitarian review that I was granted the right to stay in Canada. Adam spent a small fortune in lawyer fees, but in the end, our love and determination prevailed in the face of prejudice and discrimination. We got married, and have a son, little Elijah. I'm driving to the daycare center to pick him up right now. Adam warned me that he's coming home late tonight because he's got a lot to do. When my hubby comes home, he'll find a home-cooked meal, a son fast asleep, and a happy wife eager for his embrace. All is as it should be, thank you Jesus.