Superwoman in a Hijab

The name is Ayaan Khalid and I'm a young Black woman of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I wish I could say I was just your average ordinary gal but I can't. A while ago, fate and happenstance conspired to change my life forever. I always knew that I was different, I just never knew to what extent. The day my life changed forever I was walking to the bus stop, intent on getting to my ten o'clock class at Carleton University, where I study business administration. While crossing the street, I got hit by a truck. I should have died, but I didn't.

I awoke in a room inside Ottawa's General Hospital and honestly, I was more freaked out by the doctors and nurses staring at me like they'd seen a ghost than anything else. Physically I felt fine. I should have died, I know, but I was alive and well, and with no apparent damage. I was discharged from the hospital three days later, and my aunt Fatima came to pick me up, along with my cousin Ibrahim. The local news had a field day with the story. My picture was plastered all over the Ottawa Sun newspaper, Ottawa's Metro and I was even featured on the Quebecor news channel. Wow, I was really surprised by all the attention. You'd think I'd died and come back to life.

A week after the incident, I was still trying to get back a semblance of normalcy when I was approached by a strange man. The guy was short and stocky, and kind of looked Persian. He walked up to me introduced himself as Malik. I thought he was another annoying reporter and told him to buzz off. The dude refused to back down, and grabbed my arm. That's when something very strange happened. I shoved him back, and apparently I hit him so hard that he staggered. While he was getting back to his feet, I noticed that he was quite surprised by my strength, which had come out of nowhere. When he looked at me, his eyes were yellow and for a brief moment his skin appeared bluish, with odd markings all over. You're one of us, he said, surprise in his voice.

I ran from the strange man, got on the O-Train and headed home. The next day I went to speak with the campus police about it, and they told me they'd do their best if the guy ever came around again. Why don't I find that reassuring? No disrespect to the campus police but I don't think they'd be much help against a guy with yellow eyes and bluish skin. Something very strange was happening to me and I didn't know where to turn. I thought about sharing these disturbing events with my aunt and cousin but felt they wouldn't understand. My aunt Fatima is a sweet lady, she's taken care of me ever since I could remember, but she's the most normal person I know. She runs a small shop on Bronson Avenue near the university campus, selling Somali and Arab artifacts and artwork. As for my cousin Ibrahim, he's a sweet guy who's very protective of me but he's still in high school. They didn't need to be burdened by my troubles, strange though they may be.

I went to the university library and did research on what I knew of the strange little man, and honestly, I didn't know where to begin. Type blue man on Google and you get everything from references about a certain musical group to X-Men websites. Sheesh, I didn't know where to turn. The following Friday, I went to the Masjid early and caught up with Imam Abdullah Khan. He's a very wise man who's been my preacher for a long time. When I told him what I'd gone through the past few days, he told me to beware, that the dark one, the enemy of God, was out there in the world, tempting the righteous. Take great care young sister, he said with a gentle nod. I nodded, not really understanding what he meant. I came to the old man for advice and he was offering me platitudes. Thanks but no thanks, preach!

It's times like these that I sometimes hate certain aspects of my religion. You simply cannot get straightforward answers on anything from your fellow Muslims! Not that I truly expected much from my conversation with the preacher, I mean, even a man of God has his limits. I was pretty sure that the events which had plagued my life in recent days were definitely unnatural in origin. I couldn't talk to the Ottawa police about it, they'd think I was crazy or simply making stuff up. I decided to stop worrying about things I couldn't control and try to lead as normal a life as possible. Yup, sounded like a good plan to me and it was working just fine until I ran into the creepy old man with the shifting skin again.

This time, I was at the Ottawa public library downtown, looking at a stack of Anne Rice novels. I've always loved her vampire books, they're way better than Twilight, which sucks ass. Anyhow, I felt a presence behind me and turned around, to find the same old man from before standing about a meter from me. I come in peace, he said evenly. I glared at him, and willed myself to be calm. What do you want? I asked him. I am Malik of the Djinn, he said, and we are of the same kind. I looked him up and down. This time, his eyes did not turn yellow and his skin stayed light bronze instead of turning blue. You and I have a connection, I said hesitantly. Malik nodded. We're the same species, he said wistfully, and you are in grave danger. With those ten simple words, my life changed forever.