The Goddess Of Dammam

Twenty years ago we met, and although the timing wasn't right, I knew right then and there that someone special had finally come into my life. My name is Afaf Khan-Birrou and I was born in the City of Dammam, Saudi Arabia, to a Saudi Arabian father and a Pakistani immigrant mother. My father Omar Alzahrani never took care of my mother Amina Khan and I, and we left the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia for Canada in May of 1999. It was the tenth summer of my life, and the first time I set foot in the City of Toronto, Ontario, the place simply blew me away.

Canada has been our home ever since. I consider myself as Canadian as anyone, for this is the place where I became educated, found love, got a job with the CRA and, recently, became a wife and mother. This place is central to my existence, although a part of me will always miss the land of my birth. Sometimes at night, I dream of Dammam, crown jewel of the eastern province of Saudi Arabia. I remember our old house in the south end of metropolitan Dammam, and all the Ethiopians, Nigerians and South Asian migrant workers who were our friends and neighbors. Fellow foreigners in the hardened realm that is the heartland of Islam.

One of them stands out in the echoes of my memory. Yousef Birrou, a brown-skinned, raven-haired Ethiopian lad with golden brown eyes. He lived with his parents, Ahmed and Ayaan Birrou, on the house right next to ours. Yousef and I used to play together. Our parents were friends. Like a lot of Ethiopians, the Birrou family came to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia in search of work. Nobody warned them about the way Saudis treat non-Arabs in their homeland, apparently.

As the half-breed daughter of a wealthy Saudi Arabian father who refused to acknowledge me or my Pakistani-born mother because of his conservative family's disapproval, my very existence was scandalous. You see, Saudi Arabia is a very patriarchal society. Over there, the men control pretty much everything. If he wanted to, my biological father could have acknowledged me, and granted me Saudi citizenship but he pretty much ignored my mother and I. Yes, in this land where women cannot even venture outside without a male guardian, or work without male permission, my mother and I were left to fend for ourselves.

That's a huge part of the reason why my mother and I went to the vaulted gates of the old Canadian Embassy in the City of Riyadh, within the Capital region of Saudi Arabia, and pleaded for asylum. Eventually, it was granted to us and we left the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia for the Confederation of Canada, never to return. It was a long time ago and I was quite young in those days but certain events in a woman's life she can never forget. For me, my time in Saudi Arabia, brief though it was, will forever shape the remainder of my days upon this earth.

I enrolled at the University of Toronto in 2006, and studied accounting, eventually graduating with a bachelor's degree in 2010. I thought I had it made, but someone forgot to tell me about how white Canadians feel about highly educated women of color in the workplace. In Canada, if you're smart and talented, and you don't look like them, they won't hire you. Not because you're not qualified but because they're afraid of your potential. Sad but true fact about the mindset of white Canadians, ladies and gentlemen.

Let me make this painfully clear for you, dear readers. I'm a six-foot-tall, plump and hijab-wearing brown woman in a world that worships skinny blonde females. I was not what most businesses and corporations in Toronto were looking to hire, not with so many educated white girls to choose from. After about a thousand job interviews, I felt deflated and got a job working at Loblaw's. I soon rose to the position of manager, but that's not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

I returned to school, and this time, I decided to study business. I felt bored of metropolitan Toronto, and came to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, instead. I'd heard good things about the Sprott School of Business at Carleton University. That's why I enrolled there, and little did I know that this decision would have far-reaching consequences for the remainder of my days. For it's at this school that I would run into the man destined to be my lover, my husband and so much more.

I was new to campus, and as new students are wont to do, I got lost. I was looking for the Loeb building and somehow ended up near the Athletics Center. Frustrated, I walked up to a tall young black man and asked him for directions. The young man looked me up and down, and his eyes went wide. His lips trembled, and a single word came out. Afaf, the stranger whispered.

I stared at this young man, stunned. I asked him how he knew my name. He looked into my eyes and I looked into his. My heart skipped a beat, and when I looked deeper into those unmistakable golden brown eyes, I knew. It was him. Yousef, I whispered, and it came out as a choked little cry. Yousef's handsome face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he smiled.

As Salam Alaikum Afaf, Yousef said, nodding gently. Next thing I know, he pulled me close and hugged me fiercely. And I hugged him back. For this was my long-time friend from the old days. My former play mate. My old neighbor. I looked at Yousef, and a flood of emotions came at me, all at once. I had so many questions. When did he leave Dammam? How long had he been in Canada? How were his parents? What was he studying at Carleton University?

Walk with me sister, Yousef said, and he gently put his arm around me, just like he often did when we were little. I nodded, smiling happily, and then we walked back into the Athletics Center. There's a Tim Horton's inside, and Yousef and I sat down and caught up, over coffee and sandwiches. I sat across from this tall, handsome young black man who was nothing like the nerdy, chubby lad I remembered, except for his soulful golden brown eyes. As Yousef spoke, I looked at him and smiled.

Yousef sat me down and told me....everything. His parents left Saudi Arabia and sought asylum in the United States in 2000. In 2008, after spending eight years in Boston, Massachusetts, Yousef and his family crossed over into Canada, where the Canadian government granted them first refugee status, then permanent residency. We've been in Ottawa ever since, Yousef said, flashing me that million-dollar smile I remembered so well.

What a story, I said, sighing happily. Yousef gently laid his hand on mine, and I gasped in surprise. Even after leaving Saudi Arabia and spending a lifetime in Canada, I still have a Saudi woman's socio-cultural sensibilities. As most Muslim women would tell you, we're not big on touching unrelated members of the opposite sex. I looked at Yousef's hand on mine, and I guess my friend must have taken it the wrong way, for he quickly pulled away.

I'm sorry Afaf, Yousef said, a look of sadness creeping into his handsome face. I looked into his eyes, this beautiful young Ethiopian man whom I've known all my life. From Dammam to Ottawa, it would seem that fate had plans in store for us. I laid my hand on Yousef's, and smiled. Don't be sorry, I told him, as my heart thundered in my chest. Yousef looked at me, and smiled faintly. I smiled too, and then did something completely unexpected and very much uncharacteristically bold of me. I reached across the table, took Yousef's face in my hands, and then I kissed him.

It was a brief kiss, just a three-second peck on the lips, nothing like what you see in the movies nowadays. But it was a kiss nonetheless. The first of many kisses that we would share, Yousef and I. My beautiful Ethiopian stud looked at me, his handsome face filled with surprise. I've missed you Afaf, he said, and then he kissed me. People walking by stared at us. Carleton is a very diverse school but you don't often see Arab girls kissing black guys. Not in public anyways.

Missed you too, I told Yousef, after we came up for air. Yousef looked at me and we both laughed, and then, hand in hand, as if the past twenty years hadn't happened, we walked together. Yousef was running late for his criminology class in Southam Hall and I was definitely late for my business class in Loeb but we didn't care. It had been too long since we'd seen each other, Yousef and I. We held each other tightly, silently vowing never to let go. Fate brought us back together. Who are we to question it?