"As Salam Alaikum, Miss Al-Sabhan, is Ahmed home?" Mohamed Hersi asked, as he stood at the door of the Al-Sabhan household. Fahima Al-Sabhan, the Riyadh-born, recently widowed lady of the house shook her head as she looked at the six-foot-tall, dark-skinned young East African Muslim man who stood before her. There was a hopeful look on the brother's handsome chocolate face, and Fahima bit her lip, considering her words wisely.
Standing before Fahima, looking tall and handsome, Mohamed Hersi looked like one of the African princes of old brought back to life. The young Somali who lived six blocks away had been good friends with her son Ahmed Al-Sabhan for ages, looked strong and confident. Oh my, while I stopped looking, Mohamed Hersi has become quite a man, Fahima thought admiringly.
Fahima smiled at Mohamed Hersi, who blinked nervously. She'd known him for ages. Yet the Somali brother always greeted Fahima Al-Sabhan the same way. Super formal, like a proper Muslim brother. If only my son Ahmed were more like you, Fahima Al-Sabhan silently lamented. She'd grown so damn tired of bailing her son Ahmed out of trouble it wasn't even funny...
"Walaikum Salaam, Brother Mohamed, Ahmed has gone to Alberta to spend a few days with his cousin Ali," Fahima Al-Sabhan replied, and Mohamed Hersi looked crestfallen. At the age of nineteen, Mohamed Hersi still didn't have a cell phone. He studied at the University of Ottawa and worked hard at the local Loblaw's. Mohamed was studious and hard-working, so unlike her son Ahmed, who smoked, drank, and liked to party with western girls. Moved by Mohamed's disappointment, Fahima Al-Sabhan invited him inside.
"No, you won't impose, Mohamed, please, come inside and drink some tea with me, keep an old woman company," Fahima Al-Sabhan said, and Mohamed Hersi, like the prim and proper Muslim brother that he was raised to be, dared not refuse. Fahima Al-Sabhan sat Mohamed Hersi down in her family living room, and the young man waited while she went to get some tea.
"Thank you ma'am," Mohamed Hersi said, and Fahima Al-Sabhan turned and smiled at him, and then busied herself getting the tea ready. Fahima hummed to herself as she made tea, and briefly turned around, and caught Mohamed Hersi glancing at her. Fahima smiled to herself, completely unsurprised by Mohamed's behavior. Truth be told, the brother had been stealing surreptitious glances her way for quite some time, every time he visited Ahmed, in fact, and Fahima Al-Sabhan found it flattering.
At the age of fifty two, Fahima Al-Sabhan was widowed, and her life had become boring and monotonous. Ever since her husband Fahd Al-Sabhan died of a heart attack while working construction at the Shaw Center in downtown Ottawa, life hadn't been the same for Fahima. She was lonely, and filled with grief, and found herself smothered by the sympathy and pity that she received from family and friends.
To make things worse for Fahima, the men in the Arab Muslim community of Ottawa now behaved as though she were a leper. In the Arab world, widows are objects of pity. It didn't matter to those Arab Canadian Muslim men that Fahima Al-Sabhan had an Accounting Degree from Carleton University and worked for the Canada Revenue Agency as an auditor, and that she owned her own home. Nope, to them, she had suddenly become less than they because her husband was dead. Yes I am sexless and lonely but not dead yet, Fahima Al-Sabhan thought bitterly.
On top of everything else, Fahima Al-Sabhan had her hands full with her twenty-year-old son Ahmed. At first, he was going to Algonquin College, and planned on working in the construction field just like his late father. And then Ahmed changed his mind, dropped out of school, and spent his days drinking, fighting and sleeping around. The young Saudi-Canadian drunkard had gotten arrested time and again, and Fahima Al-Sabhan got absolutely sick of Ahmed's antics.
When Ahmed Al-Sabhan decided to move to the City of Edmonton, Alberta, to work in the oil sands and be free of his nagging mother, Fahima Al-Sabhan was secretly relieved. More than once Fahima thought of Ahmed's best friend Mohamed Hersi. Back in the day, Fahima was close friends with Amal and Yusuf Hersi, Mohamed's parents. When Fahima and Fahd Al-Sabhan moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, from their hometown of Beirut, Lebanon, they were one of a few Muslim families in the east end and the Hersi clan were among their first friends.
The hard-working Somali Canadian Muslim couple lived on Donald Street, one of the most storied areas in the east end of Ottawa. Indeed, they were just a ten-minute walk from Fahima Al-Sabhan's house on Coventry Street. Fahima Al-Sabhan envied the Hersi family, whose sons Mohamed and Idris were at the University of Ottawa, working hard and leading productive lives. Mohamed has certainly grown into a handsome and fine young man, Fahima Al-Sabhan thought to herself as she glanced at him while putting the tea on a nice tray.
"Here you go, Mohamed, Somali-style tea," Fahima Al-Sabhan said with a smile as she set the tray on the table, and Mohamed smiled and thanked her profusely. Fahima hadn't been prepared to receive visitors and wore gray sweatpants and an old blue sweatshirt, her long black hair flowing freely on her shoulders. Once upon a time, Fahima never went anywhere without her Hijab on, but those days were over. Canada had indeed changed Fahima, and she was okay with that.
"Thank you for the tea and the reception, ma'am," Mohamed Hersi said nervously, and Fahima Al-Sabhan nodded, aware of how nervous she made him. When the timer on the stove rang, Fahima excused herself and went to check on the turkey she'd been cooking. Dropping a spoon on the floor, Fahima bent to pick it up, and while turning around, she saw Mohamed looking at her with a very intense look on his handsome face. The brother likes my big ass, Fahima thought with a sly smile.
"Mohamed, so, tell me, how is university treating you? Do you have a girlfriend yet?" Fahima asked, and Mohamed Hersi shifted in his seat, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. Fahima leaned forward, sensing the young Somali man's distress. Sighing deeply, she gently laid her hand on his lap, and Mohamed's eyes followed her every move. Mohamed licked his lips, and then forced himself to speak his mind...
"Ma'am, I don't quite know how to say this, but the girls at my school don't do it for me, sometimes I wonder if I might be queer or something, the one female I liked will forever be out of my reach, so maybe the universe is telling me something," Mohamed Hersi said, and he looked at Fahima Al-Sabhan, and shrugged. There was a look of absolute sadness on his handsome face. Fahima's heart skipped a beat, and she fixed her gaze on Mohamed, considering his words.
"Mohamed, do not despair, you are a very handsome young man, just because a lot of girls don't do it for you doesn't mean you are gay, instead of doing this haram thing, and having sex with other men, focus on the female you mention," Fahima Al-Sabhan said hopefully. After living in the City of Ottawa for almost two decades, Fahima had grown used to seeing men kissing men and women kissing women. Still, the thought of a handsome Muslim brother like Mohamed Hersi going that way filled her with anger...
