"Back in Afghanistan, I was a teacher, here I am stocking shelves at Provigo," Sawsan Ghobar said to herself, and the tall, curvaceous gal shook her head while placing cans of juice on the shelf. Under her Provigo uniform, Sawsan wore a long-sleeved blue sweatshirt and yoga pants. Once upon a time, while adhering to the cultural norms of her native Afghanistan, Sawsan would have considered such an outfit too revealing. Now she didn't care...
Not for the first time Sawsan lamented the circumstances which brought her to the City of Gatineau, Quebec. Damned Americans, they just had to fuck things up everywhere they frigging set foot. Afghanistan had never been a perfect country, but her people were at peace, and led stable lives, until America came to disturb them, and forever altered their world. For the sons and daughters of Afghanistan, Sawsan included, this was the beginning of dark times...
Located in the heart of Gatineau, the Provigo store was the local equivalent of better-known grocery store chains like Loblaw's, Independent, and Walmart. Quebecers always prided themselves on doing their own thing. Things weren't so bad ever since the store hourly wage went up to fourteen dollars an hour, but like a lot of workers, Sawsan Ghobar noticed a subtle reduction in her hours. Shifty management was trying to pull the wool over her eyes...
"Hey, la grosse avec le voile, you missed a spot," said a Quebecer walking by, a portly young white man with reddish hair. Sawsan shot him a wuthering look, and resisted the urge to swat the bozo upside the head, or slap his face outright. Pretending not to hear him, Sawsan continued with her work. One must ignore bigots instead of retaliating sometimes, she quietly reminded herself.
As a Hijab-wearing Muslim woman living in provincial Quebec, Sawsan Ghobar was no stranger to such harassment. With her dark bronze skin, dark brown eyes and black hair, which she always tucked away under her headscarf, Sawsan knew she was different from the established 'pale white' norm of Quebec. The chubby little punk walked away, a big smirk on his ugly, pimple-filled face. The things I endure in this crappy job, Sawsan thought, annoyed.
Closing her eyes, Sawsan thought of her old life in the City of Chaghcharan, central Afghanistan. At the prestigious Ghor University, Sawsan taught Mathematics to young men and women. Under the guise of bringing freedom to the poor people of Afghanistan, who didn't know they were missing out on western democracy, the American soldiers came, and wrecked an entire country.
Sawsan's husband Hamza Ghobar and her daughter Alia Ghobar were among many casualties of the clashes between American soldiers and Afghan rebel forces. Having lost everything, from her family to her career, Sawsan sought to escape the hell that continuous military intervention by the United States of America had turned Afghanistan into. In their quest to democratize Afghanistan, America nearly destroyed it...
Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Freedom's Sentinel resulted in nothing but numerous needless deaths. Scores of Afghans began to emigrate, and the only country that offered Sawsan safe refuge was Canada. America, having launched countless military attacks on Middle Eastern countries, didn't feel safe bringing in immigrants from those same countries. Not that Sawsan really wanted to live in America anyway. She'd heard horror stories about random, xenophobic attacks on Muslim immigrants by racist Americans. Canada provided a much more appealing alternative...at first.
That's how Sawsan found herself living in the City of Gatineau, Quebec, a 39-year-old Afghan widow, still haunted by the horrors of war. It hadn't been easy for her, returning to school and learning to speak French. Yet, nowadays, Sawsan was enrolled at the University of Quebec in Outaouais, relearning mathematics, a subject she once taught, all because Canadian institutions didn't recognize university credentials from outside Europe or North America.
Sawsan lost count of how many fellow immigrants she met in Gatineau, Quebec, and in nearby Ottawa, Ontario, who shared similar stories with her. Her neighbor Adam Diallo, a doctor hailing from Dakar, Senegal, was told by the Canadian accreditation authorities that he would have to do medical school all over again if he wanted to practice in Canada.
Sawsan was chagrined when Adam told her of the difficulties he was having at the prestigious University of Ottawa Medical School. The middle-aged Senegalese immigrant knew more than his professors, and this was causing some friction in the classroom. Damned these racist institutions who try their to keep people like us from advancing, Sawsan thought angrily.
"Sister, are you okay?" came a masculine voice, and Sawsan's eyes snapped open. She turned and found herself looking at a tall, dark-skinned young man with a buzz cut. Sawsan smiled at Souleymane, the burly West African who made up one half of Provigo's in-house security team. For Sawsan, the store's protector was a sight as welcome as the sun clearing through a cloudy sky. At work, he was her only real friend...
Souleymane Youla, originally from the Republic of Guinea, worked closely with a young Quebecer security guard named Josephine Tremblay. Together they kept the store's theft rates at an all time low. Souleymane was currently studying Criminology at the University of Quebec and wanted to work as a provincial police officer someday. Given how great he was at catching thieves, Sawsan felt he might make a good police officer someday...
Sawsan was surprised to see Souleymane on his own, and figured that the gal he typically worked with was absent. As usual, he was walking around the store, clad in a blue silk shirt, dark gray silk pants and black timberland shoes. A strongly built brother the same shade as Hollywood icon Idris Elba, Souleymane looked like a businessman casually strolling about, but he was actually an undercover security guard on patrol...
"Salaam, Souleymane, I'm fine, I just had to deal with an idiot," Sawsan said, and she nodded in the direction of the portly young white dude who was walking away. Souleymane followed Sawsan's gaze, and his dark, handsome face contorted in quiet rage. This brother is definitely not someone anyone wants to get pissed off at them, Sawsan thought with a smile.
"Say no more, Sawsan, I'm on it," Souleymane said, and he nodded respectfully, causing Sawsan to grin broadly. How she wished he would stop being so formal. Souleymane walked away, and she glanced admiringly at his backside. If I were twenty years younger and more attractive, Sawsan thought with a sigh. Only twenty five years old, Souleymane carried himself like a prince. Oh, and the Guinean Muslim brother had the cutest butt Sawsan had seen on a man since her late husband Hamza, heaven rest his soul...
Sawsan finished stocking and replenishing the shelves, and saw a cart halfway full of merchandise which some client had apparently abandoned. After looking around for its potential owner, Sawsan decided to bring the cart back to the customer service desk. Quietly Sawsan grumbled, knowing that Alice, the bitchy redhead working at the customer service office would task her with putting the goods back on the shelf, after inspecting them for damage, of course.
"Bro, I am telling you I didn't steal anything, tabarnack," came an angry voice, and Sawsan, reaching the front of the store, paused. There was quite a scene unfolding in front of her. Several customers were observing the scene as well. Sawsan recognized the portly young white guy who'd insulted her earlier, and he was being confronted by Souleymane and Brian Thompson, a tall gangly white dude with brown hair who happened to be the duty manager.
"Open your backpack please, monsieur," Brian said, and the duty manager fixed his no-nonsense gaze on the pimply-faced chubby guy, who flinched. Souleymane looked at the young guy pitilessly, and they made him empty the contents of his backpack on a nearby counter. When a pair of headphones clattered on the counter, both Brian and Souleymane looked at the young guy, smiling confidently.
"Dude, I didn't steal this from you, I got them from the mall," the young man protested, and Souleymane, smiling, picked up the headphones, which were still in their box, and asked him for a receipt. Brian and Souleymane watched the young man like a hawk as he desperately scrounged through his pockets for a receipt. When he couldn't find one, he looked helpless, like he was about to cry. Briefly Souleymane took his eyes off of the would-be thief, and Sawsan looked at him. She smiled and nodded, and felt a pleasant frisson when Souleymane winked at her.
"I found this cart nearby," Sawsan said to Alice, but the customer service manager wasn't paying attention. Like everyone else, she was busy gawking at the security guy and the duty manager who were confronting the potential thief. Sawsan smiled and decided to go on lunch. She went to the backroom, took her lunch from the fridge, warmed it up, sat down and began to eat. For some reason, Sawsan suddenly felt really, really good, and it had nothing to do with the grub...
For once alone in the lunch room, Sawsan savored her moment of tranquility. Seconds later, the door burst open, and Souleymane walked through. The young black man had a happy, almost serene smile on his handsome face. Sawsan, who couldn't remember the last time that she saw Souleymane so happy, swiftly motioned for him to come sit next to her.
"Hello again, sister, we sent that fool home with his tail tucked between his legs," Souleymane said with a smile as he pulled up the chair next to her. Sawsan looked at him, astonished by what he'd just said. She smiled, slowly absorbing what she just heard, but nevertheless had trouble believing. The portly, bigoted bozo who insulted her actually turned out to be a thief?
