The City of Ottawa, Ontario, had been Zainab Ali's residence for the past six months. She'd moved there from her hometown of Al Qahirah, Egypt, intent on obtaining a Master's degree in Technology Innovation Management at the University of Ottawa. She already had a bachelor's degree in Civil Engineering from the University of Melbourne, back in Australia. In today's competitive business and scientific worlds, this was simply not enough.
Zainab missed the City of Melbourne, Australia and found the Canadian Capital utterly boring. For four years Melbourne was her home, and she cherished the bon vivant attitude common among the Australians. Such an outlook on life was sorely lacking in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. The locals moved about like zombies, shuffling to and from government-related work in an endless repetition, and the atmosphere seemed supremely dull.
This has got to be the most boring Western city in the entire universe, Zainab thought, during her first days in Ottawa. Still, one does what one can where one happens to be, and Zainab was not about to let culture shock or mundanity get in the way of her ambitions. The young Egyptian Muslim woman was nothing if not adaptable. The classic overachiever, albeit one from the far side of the world, Zainab came to Canada to earn another degree, and perhaps stick around to build herself a career.
Earlier that day, Zainab had gone to the Mucho Burrito restaurant, and, at the encouragement of her new friend Darren Stanwood, she tried a beef burrito, with lots of beans. Fast forward a couple of hours later, and Zainab profoundly regretted that decision. Sweating profusely, she winced and tensed and then relief washed over in a profound way as the deed was finally about to be done.
"Dammit, I never should have had that burrito," Zainab Ali said to herself, as she sat on the porcelain bowl, waiting for nature to take its course. Everything in this new country in which she found herself was weird, from the foods to the outfits, and the weird way that men and women groped each other in public. Keep an open mind, you are a stranger in a strange land, Zainab thought.
"There's another one of those towel-headed bitches working at Sephora, if you can believe that," came a female voice, causing Zainab to pause. She remained seated on the porcelain bowl, listening intently, curious in spite of herself. A second female voice joined the first, echoing mocking laughter, before replying to the statement made by the first one.
"Now that Stephen Harper is gone, Trudeau is going to let more of them into our country just so he can get votes, they'll take over someday, and they don't care, the Liberals are such traitors," said the second gal, and upon hearing what she said, Zainab bristled. She wiped, flushed, and readjusted her clothes before exiting the stall. Upon emerging, she looked at the two loudmouths, a pair of White girls, one plump and blonde, the other red-headed and slender. They looked at Zainab as though she had two heads.
"You can keep this frozen wasteland you call a country, bitch, I don't want to am just passing through," Zainab retorted, and she washed her hands, and then exited the ladies room. Like a boss, as they say in the local lexicon. The five-foot-five, round-faced, pleasantly plump, thirty-something Hijabi walked out of the Rideau Shopping Center women's washroom with her head held high.
"Hello, habibiti, are you okay? You were gone a bit of a while," Stanwood asked, and Zainab paused, looking at the man standing before her. He stood just over six feet tall, dark-skinned, smooth-shaven and mighty fine. The brother looked ruggedly handsome in a Black leather vest over a sky-blue silk shirt, red tie and dark gray silk pants. Stanwood was twenty seven but looked much younger. He reminded Zainab of the artist Akon, only taller and more strongly built. A breath of fresh air, that one, Zainab thought with a smile.
"Oh, you know," Zainab replied, and she looked into Stanwood's chocolate eyes, and shrugged. She was about to say something else when the two girls from the washroom finally exited, and for a brief moment, Zainab's eyes met theirs. One of them looked away, and the other stared back haughtily before scoffing and walking away. Zainab smiled, and Stanwood noticed it. A bit perplexed, he stroked his goateed chin and looked at her thoughtfully.
"Zainab, you're always up to something, we should call you The Naughty Hijabi," Stanwood remarked, and Zainab rolled her eyes, then grabbed him by the arm and led him toward the escalator leading to the food court. At this hour, the Rideau Shopping Center food court was packed, and they had to wait a while before finding an actual table.
"My dear Stanwood, if you only knew," Zainab replied, as they finally found a spot. Stanwood, ever the gentleman, got in line at the Chinese restaurant, and asked her what she wanted. After the day she'd had, Zainab wasn't particular. Anything other than a burrito sounded okay to her. She informed Stanwood as much, and he nodded and went to take care of business.
A nice guy with a cute ass and he's single, Zainab thought, marveling at Stanwood as she discretely checked out his bum, which looked fabulous in his dress pants. A couple months ago, Stanwood came to her, distraught after he split from his girlfriend Valerie Dupre, a young French Canadian woman he'd been dating for a while. Zainab comforted her pal and fellow international student, and they'd been real tight ever since.
Zainab liked having Stanwood around, for he was friendly, charming and generous. Hailing from the City of Houston, Texas, he was a newcomer to Ottawa, and currently studying mechanical engineering at Carleton University. The handsome African American had become Zainab's closest friend and confidante, and she truly felt bad for what his ex-girlfriend Valerie had done to him.
"Here we go, madam," Stanwood chimed enthusiastically as he came back with two platters of Chinese food. Orange chicken, shrimp-fried rice and Pepsis plus egg rolls, Zainab's absolute favorites. She greeted Stanwood joyfully and pulled a chair for him. Stanwood rested the platters at the center of the table, and then looked at Zainab, a question on his face.
"Thank you so much, Stanwood," Zainab said happily, and she clapped for emphasis, causing him to blush. During last week's outing, she'd gotten him the Black leather vest which he was currently wearing, for it had been his birthday. That's what true friends did, they took care of each other no matter what.
"You're welcome, my dear," Stanwood replied, and Zainab looked at him, and saw that he was looking at something past her. Turning around, Zainab saw what caught Stanwood's attention, a rather thick derriere attached to a tall, dark-skinned Black woman with neatly braided hair. Zainab frowned, and then closed her eyes, hard. Stanwood simply cannot resist a big ass and he forgets all about me whenever one walks by, Zainab thought.
"Well, Stanwood, why don't you go holler at her?" Zainab asked, and she flashed her friend a smile a shark would recognize. Stanwood stopped looking at the gal with the prodigious derriere and smiled, then shrugged. For some reason, Zainab's heart winced at his nonchalant attitude. The same attitude shared by Zainab's former husband Sayed El-Zend back in Egypt.
"Oh come on, Zainab, that gal was cute, can't blame a brother for trying," Stanwood said as he took a sip of his Pepsi. Zainab watched him for a minute, and said nothing, then continued eating. Her thoughts drifted back to that fateful day in Cairo when Sayed beat her within an inch of her life when she confronted him about his affair with Asma, their Sudanese house servant. Battered but not broken, Zainab appeared before a judge, demanding a divorce from Sayed. It was granted. Thus she left Egypt, never to return.
"All the women in the world aren't enough for men with wandering eyes," Zainab said sourly, and she took a bite out of her egg roll. Stanwood looked at her, concern on his dark, handsome face. I shouldn't have said those things, you're not even mine, I had no right, Zainab thought, but the gauntlets were already thrown. What's a gal to do under those circumstances?
"Zainab, is there something you want to talk about?" Stanwood asked, and Zainab hastily shook her head, then changed the subject. She queried Stanwood about the protests going on at Carleton University, something about the school's board of directors being inflexible when it came to handing over the retirement funds of certain administrative staff. Stanwood looked at her, clearly unconvinced by her switching around, but he indulged her anyway.
"Hang in there, Stan, these protests can't last forever," Zainab said encouragingly, with remarkable false enthusiasm, and Stanwood nodded sagely. That was certain awkward, Zainab thought, and Stanwood finished his meal, while she did the same. A rather awkward silence reigned over the table, and what was unsaid hung over their heads like dark, heavy clouds in an otherwise clear sky. The two friends left the Rideau Shopping Center together, heading upstairs, where they went their separate ways. For now.
Until we meet again, Zainab thought as she boarded the 95 bus heading to Nepean from the Mackenzie King Bridge in downtown Ottawa. She watched Darren Stanwood until he became a tiny silhouette receding in the distance as her bus sped away from the downtown core. She kept thinking about her words and actions, shaking her head. Why did I act so jealous back there? Zainab wondered privately.
Zainab thought of her life and all the twists and turns it had taken lately. Fleeing Egypt and a bad relationship, she came to Ottawa. Originally, after completing her university degree in Australia, Zainab went home to her husband Sayed in Egypt, intent on starting a family. Sadly, it was not in the cards. During her absence, Sayed had grown bored, and he amused himself with Asma, their Sudanese servant.
