Confession time, people. Like a lot of brothers out there, I simply love big girls. Every time I see a chubby with a big booty woman wearing the Hijab, I get turned on. I especially like the Arab broads and South Asian chicks I see all day in the streets of Ottawa, looking rather sexy ( to me ) in their long Islamic robes, supposedly conservative in style, and their hijabs. Where I come from, people are either Christianity, Voodoo or the follow the Rastafarianism religion. That's us Caribbean folks for you, we keep it simple as far as religion and culture.
We don't have a lot of Muslims on my native island of Haiti, that's for damn sure. I certainly can't remember seeing any growing up in Jacmel. I've been living in Ontario, Canada, for three years now and my fascination with these unique ladies is only growing. What's a brother to do when he feels the thirst? Why, slake it, of course. The name is Devon Guillot, D.G. to my friends, and I approve this message. This is the true tale of one brother's quest to hook up with a fine, conservative Muslim chick with a big derriere. We all have our pleasures, I guess, and chasing the forbidden fruit is one of mine.
A lot of guys I meet in Ottawa tell me that I like playing with fire as far as the opposite sex is concerned. I'm twenty two years old, what else am I supposed to be doing? I'm in my second year in the mechanical engineering program at Carleton University, having transferred there from the University of the West Indies. A six-foot-two, lean and athletic, dark-skinned brother like myself stands out in Ottawa. The Capital of Canada is slowly changing due to an influx of Somali, Pakistani, Arab and Chinese immigrants, but it's going to take a long time for the town to get diverse enough for my liking.
Seriously, man, I've been to places like Toronto, Ontario, and Calgary, Alberta. Wherever I go, fools stare at a brother. And sometimes they ask impertinent and downright racist questions. And yet Canadians would like to believe theirs is a tolerant and progressive nation. Ha! Anyhow, where was I? Oh yeah, I was telling you about my hunt for them sexy hijab girls I be seeing all over Ottawa. I started reading up on Islam, not because I have any interest in that religion but because a good hunter knows the needs and wants of his prey. Muslim chicks are sexy, at least to me, and I have a thing for the conservatively dressed ones. I don't go for the westernized Muslim chick with the short hair and even shorter skirt walking into the club. That's not who I want to fuck. Who I want is the pious-looking yet unbelievably sexy Muslim mama in the hijab and long skirt, on her way to Masjid every Friday night. I see that and I get an instant boner. Don't judge me. I'm just acting the way I feel.
The solution to my issue practically walked into my arms one night. I live in the east end of Ottawa, a spot called Vanier. Rent is ( usually ) low in the area, partly because there's a ton of gangsters, prostitutes and wannabe thugs in the area. Lots of Arabs, Somalis, Pakistanis, Haitians, Chinese and Aboriginals make their home in Vanier, and it's probably one of the most ethnically diverse parts of Ottawa. Sadly, it's also among the most dangerous. I don't give a fuck because it's the place I call home. The one place in Ottawa where lots of people of color can walk comfortably because for once, we're NOT outnumbered. Needless to say, I love it!
Anyhow, I was walking out of the all-night grocery store one night when I heard a woman screaming. In this part of town, where there's sexual assaults, muggings and random beatings every other week, a woman screaming isn't an unusual occurrence. I walked into the store parking lot, and took a look around. That's when I saw a woman struggling against a couple of guys. They were pulling at her jacket and headscarf, and she was screaming her brains out. Personally, the only time I think it's okay for a man to put his hands on a woman is in the bedroom. What? Some chicks like to get spanked. I've dated a few!
Exploding into action, I hollered at the goons to take their filthy paws off the lady. Hands off her fellas, I shouted, and they stared at me, apparently surprised. A couple of skinny white guys, none over twenty, gawked at me as I rushed toward them. I tackled the one nearest me. We fell on the pavement, and struggled against one another. The dude was spry but tougher than he looked. His buddy came at me. Oh crap, I thought. Just then, the woman swung her bag of groceries, and struck him in the head. The dude fell like a sack of potatoes. I knocked out the bozo underneath me, then rose to my feet.
Nicely done, I said, dusting myself off. Finally I took a real good look at the woman I'd just rescued. The woman was tall, easily five-foot-ten or more, with light bronze skin, and wavy dark hair which she pulled into a bun before readjusting her hijab. Thank you brother, the woman said, looking at me with a strange look in her brown eyes. I smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. You're welcome lady, I said, and bent down to pick up her fallen bag. Just then, a dark-haired, turban-wearing clerk walked out of the grocery store. Dude eyed me suspiciously, but the lady waved him off. I am fine Kader, she said, then turned to me.
