The Hijab Hunter Ch 03

By now, I trust that I require no introduction. Just in case you're new to reading about my exploits, I shall give you the rundown. The name is Stephen. Big and tall young Black man living in the Province of Ontario, Canada. My fans know me as The Hijab Hunter. Let me tell you about my latest victim, uh, encounter, I mean. I've had the pleasure of hooking up with a lovely curvaceous Somali sister and a Lebanese Muslim beauty recently. My latest conquest is this fine-looking if somewhat meek Saudi gal that I encountered at the bus stop a week ago. The prospect of seducing a Saudi woman appealed to me immensely, especially given what I knew of Saudi culture.

For those of you who don't know, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is the heartland of Islam. A place where women have zero rights. Even in the deeply conservative Islamic Republic of Iran, women can drive and even work as prison guards, albeit only in female prisons. In the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, women cannot drive, and they can be jailed for even attempting it. Also, Saudi women cannot leave the house without a male chaperone, and they require the permission of their husband, father or brother to move about. Oh, and they have to wear a full-body cloak known as the Burka by law. It's not a tradition down there, it's a requirement. That's just how things work down there. Wow. It's the most conservative nation on God's green Earth. To say that women are oppressed down there is the understatement of the century. Saudi males are the most sexist and oppressive jerks in human history. They hate freedom and they hate womankind. Yet amazingly, western powers don't realize this about them. Why? Simply because Saudi men are slick. They act all friendly while stabbing you in the back. Iranians, Syrians and Egyptians are hot-headed loudmouths whom you can see coming a mile away. Saudis are smarter than that.

Anyhow, we were in late June 2012 and the weather in the Capital region of Canada was extremely hot and wet. Ha, hot and wet. That's a good one. Anyhow, I was walking around the Vanier area of Ottawa when all of a sudden, it started to rain. Shit. Just what I needed. I was walking around looking all cool with my red silk shirt and Black silk pants. I wanted to go see the movie Prometheus with my buddies David and Armand, a couple of Haitian guys from Montreal, Quebec, who recently moved to Ottawa, Ontario. Knowing how boring Ottawa was, I wanted to show my buddies a good time. I spend most of my free time in Toronto because at least over there, well, you can find stuff to do. Ottawa is a supremely boring town and damn proud of it. Don't know what possessed these bozos to leave lively Montreal for dull little Ottawa. Oh, well. Not my problem. So, um, it started raining and that got annoying real quick. I went to the nearest bus shelter, and I wasn't alone. There was someone else there. A round Arab lady of average height with a meek expression on her face. I quickly looked her up and down. Curvy body, nice ass, big tits. All carefully hidden under an overflowing summer dress and hijab. Okay, I'm interested.

I smiled at the Arab lady, and asked her when the next bus was coming by. She looked at me meekly, then checked the time on her watch. I am almost always surprised to see people wearing watches these days. Seriously. Doesn't everybody and their grandma have a cellphone these days? I'm just saying. The Arab lady told me it was 1 : 17 P.M. Cool. That's my favorite time of day, actually. On November 17, 2009, I won two thousand dollars playing the lottery in Buffalo, New York. On December 17, 2011, my ex-girlfriend Lashondra Jones, a big-booty slut from the island of Jamaica, let me nut in her face for old time's sake. How about that? 117 has got to be my lucky number. I looked at the Arab lady, looked at the rain outside and told her that I wished I had headgear like her. Kind of weak, I know, referring to her hijab as protection for the head against the rain. What surprised me was that she fell for it. The Arab lady smiled, and told me that hijabs had practical applications. Hmmm. I always thought they were imposed on women by insecure Muslim guys who feel the need to control women's bodies and minds out of gynophobia. I didn't tell her that, of course.

I looked at the Arab lady and asked her if she was Lebanese. There are lot of Lebanese people in the Vanier sector of Ottawa. There is a Lebanese Christian church and a mosque in the area. I have a thing for Lebanese women. They're very beautiful. The Arab lady snorted, and told me that she was Saudi, not Lebanese. I nodded at that. Smiling coyly, she asked me if I knew where her country was located. I grinned and said middle east. Either that or north Africa. The lady smiled, and told me she missed home. She smiled wistfully when she said that. I sensed a story there and pressed her. I told her that I missed my homeland too. I told her I came from the island of Haiti. Upon hearing the word Haiti, the Saudi woman told me how sorry she was about the Haiti earthquake.

A lot of people in Canada and elsewhere only became aware of the Haitian nation because of the greatest disaster in human history. Before that, we didn't exist in their minds. They have this fake, almost knee-jerk sympathy when Haiti is mentioned. The Arab lady didn't seem to fall into that category of fakers, though. Honestly, she seemed sincere. I thanked her, and told her that by the Grace of God, Haiti was doing alright. Oil was recently found in Haiti, if you can believe that. The Arab lady smiled at that. She told me that oil could be both a blessing and a curse for a nation. With wealth came political turmoil and unrest. She cited the middle east and northern Africa as examples, and I couldn't disagree. The Arabs were rich thanks to the oil but they led crappy, violent and largely miserable lives due to their political and social troubles.

I didn't know much about Arab politics other than the fact that the Arabs hated the Jews of Israel and many of these supposedly conservative Arabs in Muslim countries despised western society while enjoying our television shows, our technology, our beer and our porn. I did know that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was one nation I did not hear mentioned during the Arab Spring mess. I mentioned that to the Arab lady. When I said that, her pretty face contorted. Her eyes darkened. She spat on the floor, and cursed the name of King Abdullah, leader of Saudi Arabia. I flinched at that. Dude, why she got to spit for? It's so, um, yuck! The little around Arab lady's whole body trembled, and she began sobbing. Honestly, I worried that she might pass out. I froze, wondering what to do. Muslim women, especially those who wear the hijab and dress conservatively, shun male contact. However, my sense of chivalry told me to help any woman in need. Doesn't matter her race, her religion or whatever.

I took a deep breath, and gently laid my hand on her arm. I told her that I was sorry for causing her pain. The Arab lady looked into my eyes. Yeah, I touched her. Sorry, but chivalry always trumps political correctness. I stood there, waiting for her to start shrinking from me or cursing me for breaking the gender-biased taboos of Islam. I'm the atheist son of a Christian family from the island of Haiti. Sue me. Instead of lashing out, the Arab lady smiled. Gently she touched my hand, and thanked me. I nodded, and slowly let out my breath. That's when the bus came. The door opened, and the driver, an Arab-looking dude with a beard, shot us a look. Oh, shit. Just what I needed. Bad enough that Ottawa police rough up women and minorities left and right and have gotten sued for it. I don't feel safe walking around the Canadian capital as a Black male. Now I might have to worry about the crazy, wicked Arab guys because one of them spotted me getting friendly with one of their women. I looked at the bearded Arab dude. What the fuck was he looking at?

I was all set for telling the bus driver to quit staring at my Black ass but the Arab lady shot him a wuthering look. He sighed, and shook his head as we came in. once inside, I headed to the middle of the bus like I always did but something stopped me. The still-unnamed Arab lady asked me to sit with her. I hesitated. Me? Sitting down on the crowded number eighteen bus heading to downtown Ottawa by the Rideau Center with a hijab-wearing Arab lady from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia of all places? Sure, sounds like fun! I sat next to her. She introduced herself as Shada Salman. Cool. I introduced myself as Stephen, and automatically offered my hand for her to shake. Immediately I regretted it because I just remembered. Muslim women and their social and cultural shenanigans. Massive sigh. Shada Salman hesitated, then smiled and shook my hand. I smiled and nodded. Okay, that was awkward but could have been worse.

Yeah, during the bus ride, Shada and I talked. I learned that she was new to Ottawa, and didn't have any family in town. The gal was only twenty three, though she dressed and carried herself more like a matron than a young woman. I tried my best to be sympathetic. I know what it's like. My relatives consider me a Sociopath and won't have anything to do with me. All because of my Trickster talents and the fact that they lack a sense of humor. They always made fun of me but the one time I pranked their collective asses, they got mad. Go figure. Anyhow, that Shada chick was talkative, eh? She told me that she first visited Ottawa, Ontario, three years ago. She came here with her husband Mohammed. They had a dispute and she chose to stay behind. She didn't want to go back to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. She wanted to leave her husband, and stay in Canada. Her case was pending with the Canadian Immigration and Refugee Board. Damn.

How do I get myself in these situations? I thought long and hard about Shada Salman's situation. Wow. I knew about Saudi Arabia's divorce laws. They're the most pro-male laws in the cosmos. The male keeps the offspring in cases of divorce, and the female gets nothing. The female is the property of her father, then that of her husband. She is bartered and traded like that along lines of succession. That's life for women in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. That's the life so many White women in North America and Europe are choosing for themselves. Good riddance to these brain-dead silly White bitches. Western society will do just fine without them. Listening to Shada Salman telling me about the physical abuse and constant barrage of verbal mistreatment she received from her husband Mohammed irked me, man. I don't think anyone has the right to abuse anyone. Living in Canada, I know all about violent women who abuse men and get away with it due to the extreme political correctness in the system. I know that domestic abuse isn't just an issue of men beating on women. However, in a place like the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, where women got no rights, I was inclined to believe Shada Salman's story about an abusive husband. Just because.

The bus ride went by quick, and before we knew it, we had arrived at the Rideau Shopping Center in downtown Ottawa. Before we got off, Shada Salman took out her cell phone. I thought the cute Saudi gal was going to ask me for my number but she asked for my Facebook contact information. I gave her the information, and she sent me a friend request on the spot. Taking out my cell phone, I logged onto Facebook and added her. Shada Salman shook my hand, told me she was glad to meet me, then left. I watched her walk away. The Arab guys on the bus, including the bus driver, shot me murderous looks. I shrugged. I don't care. I'm glad I met Shada Salman of Saudi Arabia. I want to get to know her better. And although I think all religions are bullshit, I know that some are worse than others. If God or Jesus Christ are listening, please allow this brave young woman to stay in Canada and escape from the nightmare of domestic abuse and gender-based repression which she endured in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Amen. Signed, an atheist with agnostic tendencies. Peace.