Saudi Princess and Jamaican Man

Call me Arnold, mainly because it's my Government name but also because I hate being referred to by my family name, Whyte. As a big and tall Black man, the only thing White about me is my teeth. Anyhow, I got a story to share with you folks. I'm a business administration student at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born and raised in the island of Jamaica but have been living in Canada for the past eight years. I'm twenty two years old, and today I get ready to make some serious changes in this life of mine.

Three days ago, my girlfriend Eva Adewale dumped me out of the blue. I sometimes wonder what I ever saw in her. At first glance, she seemed nice enough. Then again, they always seem nice enough. Eva is of Nigerian descent and a graduate student at the University of Ottawa. I found her quite appealing but little did I know that she had lots of issues. The dictionary definition of Angry Black Woman should carry a picture of Eva Adewale in it. Seriously. This chick is addicted to rage, and she feels enraged at the entire world every moment of every day. I'm glad we're no longer together. Finally, I can breathe again. My parents are kind of disappointed in me over the breakup because they thought of Eva as 'the one' for me. Big fucking deal. Just because she's good-looking and in grad school, that doesn't make her the Queen of Sheba.

A lot of educated Black women seem to look down on us Black men. And yet they get mad when those same Black men ditch them for White women. Me? I'm not really into White chicks. However, after what happened with Eva, I decided not to discriminate. I don't bother with chasing Black women anymore. Not since the ones in the City of Ottawa seem genetically designed to treat good Black men like shit. I'm a decent brother, I swear to God. I work hard, I'm a dedicated student, I'm a law-abiding citizen and I am a staunch Christian. I always pictured myself with a Black woman when I finished school but it looks like that is not going to happen. Black women in colleges and universities across Canada and maybe even the United States just don't believe in Black men anymore. Well, since they don't believe in us, I can honestly tell you that a lot of us no longer believe in them. There, are you happy?

I was still pretty blue over my breakup with Eva that afternoon in late January 2012 but hey, I can't turn my feelings on and off like a faucet. Don't laugh, it's not funny. I know what you're thinking. I needed that skank in my life the way a dead man needs a frigging casket. Anyhow, I sat inside the Carleton University library, near the Data Center, feeling pretty bad. Eva isn't the only romantic disaster I've had this year. Before her, there was Rosie, a chubby White chick of British descent I went out with in the summer of 2011. Rosie had anger issues too. Damn witch actually scratched my arm with her nails during an argument. I am glad I dumped her. Anyhow, I sat at a computer, feeling like a son of a gun. Guess who sat next to me?

A tall, fine-looking young woman with dark bronze skin and sparkly brown eyes. Clad in a bright red dress, she looked magnificent. Oh, and her head was covered by a hijab. I barely noticed her until she cleared her throat because I was staring blankly at my screen, my mind a thousand miles away. The young woman looked at me, and gently touched my shoulder. I stared at her, slowly registering her presence. She smiled at me and asked me if I was okay. I stared at her, almost mesmerized for a moment. Then I nodded, and said okay. The young woman introduced herself as Asalah Sadiq. I nodded and told her my name absentmindedly. Asalah smiled, then opened up her WebCT to tackle some schoolwork. I resumed working on the Sociology project I was working on. I really have got to snap out of it, man. I bet you Eva isn't wasting brain cells thinking about me so why should I think about her dumb ass?

At some point, I must have been typing too fast because Asalah tapped my shoulder again and asked me if everything was alright. I looked at her. Who is this broad? She's kind of touchy and talkative for a hijab-wearing chick. I see a lot of chicks wearing the hijab in Ottawa, both Somali women and Arab women. The one thing they all have in common? They're usually quiet and shy. I guess in the Muslim culture women aren't encouraged to be loud and assertive. And I can't recall the last time I saw a hijabi touch a man in public. So why was Asalah touching my shoulder? She looked at me with concern on her face and told me I was bleeding. I gawked at her. What the fuck? I excused myself and rushed to the men's washroom. I looked in the mirror. Oh, man. She's right! I am bleeding from the nose!

I wiped my nose with paper, and washed my face. Five minutes later I came back to my seat. Man, I am just not having a good day! I found Asalah waiting for me. She offered me a cup of coffee. I took it, and thanked her. Then I asked her why she was so nice to me. Asalah smiled beatifically and told me that Allah encouraged all of His daughters and sons to be kind to strangers in need. I nodded, and told her that the Christian God I prayed to also encouraged the same thing in His followers. Unfortunately, most people didn't practice such principles. Asalah smiled and told me that we did indeed worship the same God. I smiled, and nodded. I looked at her and she looked at me. Once again I thanked her, and then went back to work. When I took a break, I went to the Page Break, a little restaurant located inside the Carleton University library, and grabbed some sandwiches. I offered her one, and she took it. We ate in silence, looking over our shoulders because the library staff don't like people eating at the computer terminals. Asalah and I both got busted by this tall Black dude with dreadlocks but he was chill. He let it slide. I thanked the brother, while Asalah giggled. I noticed that she had a really cute smile. Hmmm.

Over the next hour, I tried talking to her. I wasn't hitting on Asalah, you understand? The last thing I needed was to jump into another relationship. I am attracted to psycho women the same way blonde women in Hollywood movies are attracted to serial killers. Asalah is definitely not the type of woman I normally talk to. I think that's a good thing. I learned quite a bit about her. Asalah was born and raised in the town of Riyadh, deep inside the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Wow. She had been living in Ottawa, Ontario, with her mother Atifah and her brother Ali for the past six years. Her father Nidal died in a boating accident in Niagara. This gal worked as a restaurant manager to support her family and attended Carleton University's Sprott School of Business. Wow.

Here I am complaining about my little problems and this young woman who's my age is already an MBA student and she's also working to support her family. Asalah is truly remarkable. I'm in my fourth year at Carleton University. When I graduate with my bachelor's degree of business administration in the summer of 2012, I'll apply to the Business School. Asalah is so far ahead of me, with so many responsibilities, and she bears it all so well. I looked at this beautiful young Saudi-Canadian woman with newfound respect. I smiled, and asked her how she did it. Asalah smiled at me and told me that with God's help, anything was possible. I nodded at that. That's absolutely true.

I looked at her, then did something I seldom did with chicks. I don't know why but I respect that woman. I asked her to be my friend. Asalah smiled and told me she'd be happy to do that. Then she held out her hand for me to shake. We shook hands. Her hand felt warm, gentle yet firm. I wished her a good night, and then she got up and left. She had to work tonight, you see. Extended hours at her restaurant. I watched her as she went to the library's entrance. What a woman. I'm glad we met. I didn't know it at the time but I hadn't just made a friend. I had met a woman who would change my life forever. As in new romance, and new path to follow. I'll tell you all about it next time. Peace be unto you.