"In the old days, the nation of South Sudan was known as the Kingdom of Kush, or Nubia, and it was a wonder of the African World, a mighty nation whose glory and power surpassed that of latter empires like the Assyrians, Babylonians, Egyptians, Greeks and Romans," Professor Shaima Machar said, speaking to her African Studies Class at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario.
Standing in front of the packed classroom, Professor Shaima Machar cut an impressive figure. Six feet tall, curvy and sexy, with mahogany-hued skin, and a stylish Afro, she looked absolutely gorgeous in a Black leather vest over a white blouse, Black Capri pants, and stylish sandals which added an additional inch to her already lofty height. As she continued her erudition on African history, her students realized that she wasn't just exotically beautiful, the lady had major brains too...
It was six o'clock in the evening, and outside, it was already dark. September had come, with its chill and rapidly descending darkness, and the Professor was well aware that most of her students were still lamenting the lost days of summer. Professor Machar could relate. Mere weeks ago Shaima Machar was enjoying herself in her hometown of Malakal, Republic of South Sudan, and now she was back in the Capital region of Canada, with classes to teach and so on. The summer had indeed been much too brief...
"Wow, this is the first I've heard of this," said a student, raising his hand. Professor Machar looked at the big and tall, Afro-sporting young Black man with the Bob Marley T-shirt and blue jeans, and repressed a smile. Truth be told, she would have been surprised if these ordinary Canadian students, including the Black ones, knew anything about some of the lost empires of the African Motherland. Such knowledge had been systemically erased by Western society...
In a time when identity, race and nationality seemed to be at the forefront of politics across North America and Western Europe, the suppression of African knowledge and scholarship were matters of policy for the fascists in charge. Of course, even admitting that this was the way of things is bound to attract controversy. As a Black female instructor teaching at a Canadian university, Professor Shaima Machar knew she had to walk a fine line.
"In our society, I'm afraid that African history has been neglected, which is a pity since it's a major part of world history," Professor Machar answered carefully, and she took a look at the makeup of the classroom. Thirty two students. Seventeen Blacks. Three Asians. Five Arabs. Seven Caucasians. She smiled to herself, pleased to be surrounded by some melanin for a change. The racial makeup of the classroom was reflective of demographic changes across the province of Ontario, and the rest of Canada. Diversity is here to stay, Professor Machar thought, pleased.
"Ma'am, I absolutely agree, we all know about great military leaders like Julius Caesar or Charlemagne, we should learn about Shaka Zulu," said another male student, a red-haired young white guy, and he looked at the attractive, dreadlocked Black female student next to him and raised his fist. Reluctantly the female student bumped her fist against his, and Mr. Redhead smirked, and then looked at the Professor, who was trying really hard not to roll her chestnut eyes.
"Well said, young man, but the Kingdom of Kush, and the later Kushite Empire, existed long before Julius Caesar or ancient Rome, we're talking about 1000 B.C. or so," Professor Machar remarked, and the entire class listened with rapt attention as she continued. This was but the second class, and Professor Machar knew that most of the students didn't really have much interest in African history. Most of them majored in other subjects, and were looking for an easy elective...
"Ma'am, I am Raphael, and I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed the class today, African history indeed fascinates me," said the same burly young brother who had first spoken, addressing Professor Machar at the end of the class. The Professor looked at this young Black man with the sincere eyes and enchanting smile, and nodded. When he held out his hand, she shook it without hesitation.
"Good to meet you, Raphael, I like your enthusiasm, what's your major?" Professor Machar asked, and Raphael smiled, and his next words surprised her. She hadn't been teaching too long, and had been quite surprised to be offered a full Professorship at Carleton University after only three years at the institution. The school didn't exactly have a great track record with contract instructors and adjunct Professors. Although surprised at the time, Shaima Machar graciously offered the school's offer and joined the African Studies School as a full Professor.
"I'm a double major, ma'am, Civil Engineering and African Studies," Raphael said, and Professor Shaima Machar smiled, and looked at him thoughtfully. This was most unexpected. Professor Machar had to admit, when she thought of an engineer, she usually envisioned a nerdy white guy, or an Asian guy of some type, or perhaps even a masculine white female, but not an Afro-sporting, soulful young brother. Her thoughts must have been reflected on her face, for Raphael smiled knowingly...
"Why, that's interesting, Raphael, you don't see a lot of people who like both the sciences and the humanities," Professor Machar said, and Raphael nodded. As they spoke, she took his measure, and found him quite interesting. Still, it was getting late so she cut their conversation short, excused herself and then Raphael wished her a good day and left. Smart brother with a nice ass, Professor Machar thought to herself as she watched Raphael exit the classroom.
Professor Shaima Machar exited the Southam Hall building and made her way through the Quad, then the University Center building. She'd parked her old Rav4 right in front of the U.C. building, and was relieved to see that campus safety hadn't issued her a ticket. She got in and drove away, headed down Bronson Avenue. Swiftly she made her way toward the Glebe, and stopped at her neighborhood, which was off Bank Street, and within walking distance of the Independent Grocery Store.
"Home sweet home," Shaima Machar said to herself, as she returned to her pricy, one-bedroom apartment located in this chic part of town. The place was nice, within walking distance of her previous place of employment, Parliament Hill, where she'd been a mid-level manager in the Office of Government Affairs. After years of toiling away in the world of politics, Shaima Machar returned to her true passion, teaching.
Oh, and Shaima Machar absolutely relished being back at her alma mater, Carleton University. She graduated with her MBA in 2007, at the age of twenty two. Returning to teach at the School of African Studies was a great honor for her. It felt so damn good to be home, so to speak. Even after all the things which happened in her life, Shaima Machar still valued the little things, such as being in familiar territory...
"What are you going to do to me?" came a feminine voice, startling Shaima out of her train of thought. She turned on the light, not that her preternatural eyes needed help to see in the darkness. A stocky, muscular young woman with alabaster skin pockmarked with stylish tattoos, moist blue eyes and short, mousy brown hair sat in a corner of the living room, stark naked and bound to the floor by thick steel chains. Shaima shook her head upon realizing that her captive had somehow managed to slip off her gag...
"Oh, everything, my dear," Shaima Machar said, and as the startled young woman looked on, her beautiful captor's eyes turned bright crimson, and her teeth elongated and sharpened. Gasping in shock, the young woman recoiled, watching in horror as the beautiful, dark-skinned apparition stepped closer, and tugged on her chain, dragging her forward. The young woman tried to resist, but could not. She struggled against the beautiful monster's might, to no avail. She was just too damn strong...