Once upon a time in the City of Khobar, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, there was a young woman named Afaf Ibrahim. Six feet tall and quite curvy, with almond-shaped golden brown eyes, dark bronze skin and long black hair ( which she always tucked away under her Hijab out of modesty ), Afaf was the apple of her elderly father Mahmoud Ibrahim's eye. Still, when time came for her to marry, the old Saudi Arabian man found himself perplexed.
"It's my flatulence problem, Baba, let's be honest, we both know that's why no one wants to marry me," Afaf said to her father after Ali, the latest suitor-come-lately, abruptly withdrew. The young woman sat on a couch in the family living room, crestfallen. Sighing deeply, Baba Mahmoud looked at his daughter and gently stroked her hair. For once, the man who once presided over the Council of Clerics for the King of Saudi Arabia found himself at a loss for words.
"Go study in North America, my daughter, live life a little before you marry," Baba Mahmoud said, and he smiled as Afaf looked at him with utter surprise on her lovely face. Smiling at her father, Afaf could not believe her ears. For the longest time she'd been begging her father to let her study abroad. A lot of young Saudis from good families go study at colleges and universities in England, France, America, Australia and Canada, but Afaf never thought she'd get the chance.
"Baba, thank you, I'm so happy," Afaf said, and then the excitable young woman impulsively gave her father a hug. Baba Mahmoud hugged his daughter, and then felt tears stream down his face. Those definitely weren't tears of joy. Afaf subtly farted again, silent but deadly. Smiling apologetically, Afaf squealed and then ran to her room while her father shook his head.
"O Maker of All Things, please help my flatulent daughter succeed in life and find a good man," Baba Mahmoud said during his evening prayers, and then the tired old man went to bed. Ever since Afaf's late mother Mariam died giving birth to her almost twenty years ago, Baba Mahmoud had cared for his daughter. Now it was time for her to make her own way into the world. Something the old man knew, but feared. For like all fathers, Baba Mahmoud cared desperately for his daughter and wanted to protect her from the world.
The next day, Baba Mahmoud left Khobar for Riyadh, where he'd been summoned by the new King of Saudi Arabia for a certain government matter. The old man loathed to leave his daughter alone, especially since she'd be leaving the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to study abroad in a few months but he knew she could handle herself. Besides, Baba trusted his long-time majordomo and friend Omar Adewale ( former of Nigeria ) to look after the vast Ibrahim Estates in his absence.
"I'll be back within a few days, be safe, my daughter," Baba Mahmoud said, and he gently kissed his daughter Afaf's forehead before driving to the airport in Khobar's eastern district. Once there, he boarded a plane which took him to Riyadh, satisfied that everything at his home would be fine in his absence. Baba Mahmoud raised his daughter Afaf to be responsible, after all. The old man had the utmost confidence in her.
"Oh Omar, miss me?" Afaf said coyly as she walked into the rec room where the gentleman in question liked to get some reading done. The tall, handsome, forty-something Nigerian man sat in a chair, a copy of U.S. President Barack Obama's book Dreams From My Father in his right hand. In his left hand, he held a glass of red wine, something which was utterly illegal in Saudi Arabia.
Born in Kano City, northern Nigeria, and educated at King Saud University, Omar Adewale had been living in Saudi Arabia for over a decade. He lived in a villa within walking distance of the Ibrahim household, and looked after most of Baba Mahmoud's affairs. Omar was fond of three things, ladies, money and wine. His good friend Mahmoud kept him well supplied in all three, and in exchange, Omar did certain favors for him.
