Syrian Princess For Somali Man

When couples tell people about how they met, I sincerely think they embellish things a lot. Seriously. Everybody's got a lousy story about meeting at a mall or restaurant, either that or they talk about a romantic setting like a beach or a park. Me? I met my future wife inside a porno store in downtown Ottawa. My name is Khalid Hussein, not to be confused with the dude who wrote that book The Kite Runner. For starters, he's Arab or something and I'm one hundred percent Somali. My friends call me Kal. I'm just an average guy, with an average life. I'm a second-year Nursing student at Carleton University ( yes, there are male students in Nursing and yes, I'm straight ). Oh, and I'm kind of, sort of addicted to porn.

Well, they say the first step is admitting you have a problem, right? Anyhow, I'm doing alright in most aspects of my life. I got promoted to manager of the night crew at the Loblaw's where I work. I volunteer at the animal hospital, and I love dogs. A lot of people find it weird that I'm a Muslim and I love dogs but I don't give a shit. Dogs are man's best friend. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was about to tell you about how I met my future wife, Faheema Abdul-Wahab. Let's just say that I wasn't having the best of days.

I live in the Vanier Parkway area, one of the seediest neighborhoods of Ottawa. My neighbors are Haitians, French Canadians, Hispanics, Lebanese Christians and Asians. Nice enough people for the most part, except that they're loud as fuck. Listen, I fully acknowledge as a Somali that my people are loud so when I tell you a group of people make a lot of noise, that's really saying something. My roommate Delano is a lazy son of a bitch originally from Burundi and he never pays his share of the damn rent. The guy gets on my nerves and he makes a lot of noise, which is a problem since I work part-time as a security guard, usually working overnight shifts, so I need my sleep.

Anyhow, Delano neglected to pay his share of the Hydro and next thing I knew, a truck from Hydro Ottawa pulled up in front of our building and they cut the power. Now, if you've ever experienced a winter in Ottawa, you know it's definitely not the time to lose essential things like electricity and hot water. Well, thanks to Delano, I got to experience both. I confronted him about it and we came to blows, but his girlfriend Jessica jumped in between us, thus ending the fight that morning. Man, when it rains it frigging pours, eh? Delano left to stay at his girlfriend's place, wherever that heifer lives. As for me, I found myself alone in our cold-ass apartment. Isn't life peachy? About the fight, typically I'm a very mild-mannered guy but enough is enough. Imagine coming home after working a twelve-hour shift, and finding out that your apartment is cold, with a raging snow storm outside, because your roommate didn't feel like paying for utilities. Trust me, you would feel like kicking his ass too.

As soon as Delano and Jessica left, I went to my room and got under the covers. I tried to sleep, but to no avail. After about three hours, I got tired of it and just went to the washroom. Showering with cold water in the Canadian winter has got to be considered a form of torture, but I endured it because I'm a clean brother and there's no way in hell I'm leaving the house without taking care of business. I put my clothes on, and went to the bus stop. I caught the number nine heading to Rideau Center and once there, I had myself some delicious Chinese food. Washed it all down with some Pepsi. With my apartment feeling like a pop sickle, I didn't really feel like going home anytime soon. It was one o'clock in the afternoon and I didn't have class till four, so what's a brother to do?

There's a nice little porno shop located just a few blocks from the Rideau Shopping Center. I hadn't been there in a while, so I thought I'd check it out. Maybe they've got some new selections. I don't like to pay for my porn, since there's a lot of stuff you can watch online for free. To get my rocks off, I typically visit sites like Real Black Anal, Horny Black Mothers and Big Butt Black Teachers. What can I say? I love my chocolate porn, though interracial sites like Spring Thomas have their merits. I don't discriminate. I love watching brothers smashing big-booty black chicks and foxy white women. Been into that stuff since the halcyon days of classic porn sites like Bang Bus and Candy Black Ass.

That afternoon I went to the porno store near Rideau just to check things out. I only had about twenty bucks in my pocket so I didn't think I'd purchase anything. I get paid Wednesday at midnight every week, and we were only on Monday so, yeah, I had to save that twenty. Still, I went into the store and nodded at the plump white chick behind the counter. I checked out a few of the usual videos, blonde lesbian strap-on fun, not bad, interracial stuff with black women and white dudes, not bad but not my cup of tea. Interracial mature porn with white women and black dudes, now that's hot. Still, I'd seen all that shit before so I went to look a bit further down. She-male videos featuring big-dick black transsexuals banging black dudes and Hispanic guys. Um, not my thing but I'm not judging. A certain old-school looking porn DVD caught my attention. Strap-on Black Ball Busters. On the video cover a sexy black chick wearing a strap-on dildo sat on a black dude's back. What the fuck? I looked at the video, and shook my head. I was about to put it down when another video caught my attention. The title alone made me almost jump out of my skin. Strap-on Black bitches. On the cover, a black dude stood surrounded by sexy black women with strap-on dildos. Man, if all these females gang-bang the brother with their toys he's one dead negro!

I was holding both of these DVDs in hand when I heard someone call my name. Khalid is that you? came a hesitant female voice. I looked up, and my eyes widened when I saw who it was. Faheema Abdul-Wahab. The daughter of famed Syrian sheikh ( preacher ) Samir Abdul-Wahab. In the world of Canadian Muslim scholars, this guy's a legend. He teaches Islamic studies at a university in the Greater Toronto Area. His daughter Faheema is one fine-looking chick. One of those untouchable hijab-wearing Muslim sisters you see every day walking around with their long skirts, pious expressions and their Koran tucked under their arm. What's a chick like that doing in a porno shop?

As salam alaikum sister, I said hesitantly, looking at Faheema. Yes, it was indeed her. Five-foot-nine, a bit skinny for my taste but curvy where it counts, and quite pretty, with her dark bronze skin, almond-shaped dark brown eyes and a perpetually happy face. Aku salam, Faheema replied, still smiling. Man, at this point I felt like bolting. Understand that Muslim culture is about a thousand years behind the times when it comes to sexuality. We all like to have our fun but can't admit to each other or even to ourselves. Faheema grinned mischievously at me, and I realized that I was clutching the two strap-on DVDs to my chest. Kinky titles, she said, still smiling. My eyes went wide. Um I'm not into that shit, I said defensively. Faheema held her hands in the air. I'm not judging you my brother, she laughed.

I looked at her, and felt cornered. You know what, since she's in here too, she can't tell me shit. What are you doing here? I asked, narrowing my eyes. Faheema smiled at me coyly. I'm here for research for my women's and gender studies class, the young Muslim woman replied, matter-of-factly. I looked into those brown eyes of hers, and amazingly, Faheema maintained her poker face. That's your story and you're sticking to it, I said, nodding. Exactly, Faheema countered, with a slick wink.

With that, she turned and left, heading to another section of the porno shop. The plump white chick working at the counter had observed the exchange between us and was chuckling. I rolled my eyes, then followed Faheema. I found her in the gay/bisexual section. In her hands she held a disturbing DVD. On the cover a black dude was getting fucked in the ass by a light-skinned dude. Yes I like gay porn, Faheema said. To each her own, I gulped. Faheema and I stood there, and talked for a bit. Even though we were acquainted, this was my first time talking to her. Understand that in the Muslim community of Ottawa, Faheema is like a princess. She's a wealthy preacher's daughter and all. Now I was seeing her in a whole new light.

I never would have figured you for a porno fan, I said, smiling. Faheema grinned and gently tapped me on the shoulder. Just because a gal wears hijab and goes to mosque doesn't mean she doesn't have needs like everybody else, she smiled. I looked into those eyes of hers and saw mischief, and a keen intelligence. Clearly there was more to this young woman than meets the eye. I totally agree, I said. I went to the counter and paid for my purchases, and Faheema did the same. Afterwards, I crossed the street and went back to Rideau. Interestingly, she was heading the same way. We ended up sitting together on the bus, and Faheema told me a bit more about herself.

It's so boring and stifling being a preacher's daughter, Faheema lamented. You feel like people watch your every move, I added carefully. Faheema nodded, and smiled sadly. Your secret is safe with me Wallahi, I smiled. Faheema winked, and then told me we should keep in touch. I agreed, and just then, my phone buzzed and I took it out to see who texted me. That's when something amazing happened. I've never been good at talking to girls or getting their phone numbers. That's kind of why I'm so into porn. Got to satisfy my needs in other ways. However, when I took out my phone, Faheema smiled, and told me her number. I was surprised, but played it cool and punched it into my phone. Don't be a stranger, she smiled before gently touching my arm. With that, she wished me a good day and walked away. Got to catch the bus to Barrhaven upstairs, Faheema said, waving me goodbye. I watched her walk away among the throngs of people inside the Rideau Shopping Center. The Syrian broad's got an ass on her!

The next day, I called Faheema, and we ended up going to see a movie together. The Dictator. It was funny as hell. Afterwards, I took her to this nice little restaurant in the east end, Soleil Des Iles. I'm Somali but I love Haitian food. Faheema had never tried it and went with my suggestion when I told her to try the rice and beans with goat meat. Man, I've never seen a woman eat as much as this broad. She ordered two plates of steamy Haitian rice and beans, plus chicken AND beef. Hot damn! Yes I have an appetite, Faheema said, after cleaning out her plate. Not fair you skinny people eat so much, I said, shaking my head. I'm six-foot-one and weigh two hundred and sixty pounds. I've got watch my weight otherwise I might end up with cholesterol and diabetes and shit like that. Faheema on the other hand eats a lot more than I do and she's skinny and healthy. Not fair, man.

Thanks for bringing me to this place, Faheema said, smiling. You're welcome my sister, I said, nodding gracefully. For the better part of two hours we sat together in the back of the restaurant, talking about anything and everything. Faheema couldn't shut up about how relieved she was that her dad took a teaching position in Toronto. Finally I'm free, she laughed. I nodded. What's your dad like? I asked. A dark look came upon Faheema's beautiful face. The good preacher is a tyrant at home, she said wistfully. Faheema looked so sad right then and there that I felt like comforting her. I couldn't help it. A lot of our more conservative Islamic preachers are hell to be around in Masjid, always criticizing people, considering even the most harmless things totally haram. I could only imagine what life was like for a young woman raised by such a man.

Perhaps you and your mother should stand up to him, I offered. Faheema glared at me. My mother's dead, she said evenly. Man, open mouth and insert foot, I thought grimly, chastising myself for overstepping my bounds. I am so sorry, I said, gently touching Faheema's hand. The young woman looked at my hand on hers, and said nothing. Quickly I pulled my hand away. I'm sorry for that, I said. You see, in Islamic culture, touch between unrelated members of opposite sex is forbidden. It's alright, Faheema said. Looking me in the eyes, she laid her hand on mine. I'm a human being and not just a sheikh's daughter, she said, in a voice choked with emotion. You are human to me my dear friend, I said. For a long moment neither of us said anything. We just sat there, inside this Haitian restaurant.

The sadness in Faheema's beautiful face was heartbreaking. You can always be yourself around me my sister, I said solemnly. Faheema looked at me, and before I realized it, before I even thought about it, I took her slender hand and brought it to my lips. Faheema stared at me in stunned surprise. Aren't you sweet? she giggled, apparently pleased. I'm serious, I said, still looking her in the eye. Faheema looked at me and smiled. Gently she touched my face. If all Somali guys are like you I'm moving down there, she grinned. I laughed out loud at that. Good answer Miss Syria, I nodded. Good answer indeed.

And that's how it all began, ladies and gentlemen. Faheema and I began seeing each other, secretly at first, because she still had the image of a prim and proper Muslim sheikh's daughter to uphold and maintain. Still, as time went by and we became more comfortable with each other, we stopped caring. Faheema and I went on holiday in Montreal for three days. She told her father she was going to visit her old friend Amina whom she knew in high school, and the old man fell for it. I don't like all the sneaking around but it's whatever. Ours is a complicated relationship, to say the least. You see, in the Muslim world, it's perfectly okay for Arab guys to be with women of any color or background but it's not okay for Arab women to be with men of other races, especially black men. Even though the prophet Mohammed said no man is above any other based on color, the Arabs are still racist as hell. Most Arab men won't let their daughter marry a black man.

Yeah, the odds were against us, Faheema and I knew that from the get-go. Still, we loved each other so we decided to stick it out. A year passed, then two. Our bond was as strong as ever. I'm happy to say that we've made love, a first time for both of us. It was absolutely one of the most powerful experiences of my existence. Making love to Faheema, feeling her in my arms, touching her naked body, kissing her, sensations and experiences I shall never forget even if I live to be a hundred. Waking up with her, her arms around me, man, I do believe I've found Jannah right here on earth. That unforgettable first night after making love, I told Faheema I loved her and absolutely meant it. I love you too my Somali prince, Faheema replied, before kissing me full and deep.

Lying next to my sweetie, I knew I just wanted to be with her forever. Faheema has met my parents, Ariq and Samira Hussein. They absolutely love her, but cautioned me to be careful since they know how crazy Arab guys can get when they see a woman from their part of the world with a black man. Racism is alive and well in the Arab world. Libyans tortured and killed Afro-Libyan immigrants after the fall of Gadhafi, and right now the Saudis are persecuting the Ethiopian minority living inside the Kingdom. I have no illusions about how Faheema's father would react if he found out about her and me. Faheema knows this better than anyone. Still, we want to be together, you see. There are times when I want this young woman as badly as I want my next breath.

It's often been said that people do crazy things when they're in love. One day, Faheema and I decided we'd had enough of hiding our relationship from her family. We made a video ( no, not that kind ) and sent it to them. A video showing us holding hands and sitting together, telling them how much we love each other. As you can imagine, her father was incensed and swore that he'd kill her, his precious Arab daughter, for loving me, a black man. Well, Faheema and I were ready for the haters. We'd spent ages getting ready, saving our money, preparing to run. Armed with our degrees, me with a Nursing degree from Carleton University and her with a B.A. in business administration from the University of Ottawa, we crossed the border. We settled in New York City. Here we are, in the City that never sleeps. Just a young couple, happily married and deeply in love. Haters be damned. It's been said that if you can make it in NYC, you can make it anywhere. By Allah, we're about to find out.