Somali Queen In Ottawa Ch. 14

What's up people? Steve Salomon here. I'm a big and tall young black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Up until recently, I considered myself the luckiest guy in the world. I'm close to completing my studies in the business management program at the Sprott School of Business of Carleton University. And I have, no, had the love of the most amazing woman ever. Yasmin Hussein, a tall, curvaceous, sinfully sexy Somali-Canadian Muslim cutie. We met under less than ideal circumstances at work, and totally clicked.

For a while, we were together. This chick changed my life. I loved Yasmin more than I loved myself. How I miss my Somali goddess. Still, you can't have a love story when it's just one person in love. I love Yasmin, but I doubt that she loves me. If Yasmin did love me, she wouldn't have done what she did. Twenty four hours ago, my world was shattered into a trillion pieces. We were hanging out at the Saint Laurent Mall, and were about to have supper together at our favorite Chinese restaurant, Manchu Wok, when Yasmin ran into some old high school buddies of hers.

A pair of Somali chicks approached us, and Yasmin greeted them happily. I stood nearby, and waited a while for Yasmin to introduce me to them. I mean, if I matter to her, she'd introduce me, right? I kept my cool, watching the minutes tick by. Yasmin excitedly talked to the two Somali chicks in the guttural Somali language, and finally, ever so reluctantly, she introduced me to them. The two Somali broads, whose names I've forgotten, looked me up and down as if I were an animal at the zoo. They did not approve of my being Yasmin's man, that much was clear to me.

There's always tension between Yasmin and I when we run into her fellow Somalis. You see, the Somali community is mostly Muslim and there's some kind of rule against Muslim women dating men of other religions. Yasmin Hussein, the feisty Somali gal I fell in love with, seemed different from the other Muslim chicks I saw around Ottawa. This gal was smart, sexy and fiercely independent. Definitely a woman with a mind of her own. Yasmin wasn't the type to bow down to the rules of tradition or religion. At least that's what it seemed like at first.

Lately, though, I felt like there was a growing gulf between Yasmin and I. You see, I'd never force my religion upon her. I consider myself a very liberal Christian. I don't feel the need to force my religion upon people. The way I figure it, there's only one God and I believe the same all-powerful entity or being is worshipped by Jews, Christians and Moslems. I think God is big enough for all of our Abrahamic religions. Naturally, many would disagree. I respect all religions, but to my eyes, there are some glaring double standards in the rules of Islam.

If a Muslim man is allowed to date and even marry Christian women and Jewish women, because they're People of the Book, why shouldn't a Muslim woman be allowed to marry a Jewish guy or a Christian guy? I discussed this with Yasmin Hussein many times. Even though Yasmin agreed that there was a lot of sexism in the Muslim world, she didn't dare question anything written in her people's holy book.

The double standard in interfaith marriage rules for Muslim women and Muslim men was something that bothered her, but Yasmin would never speak out against it. I thought Yasmin was stronger than that. I figured that my sweet lady had a mind of her own, and would choose to be with me. Guess I was wrong. I sit in class at school, way up in Dunton Tower, which houses much of the Business School at Carleton University. My class is small, just twenty students, and we're discussing Business Ethics.

I didn't really listen. I sit close to the window, and from that vantage point, I can see much of campus and the surrounding areas. Prince of Wales. The Ottawa River. Even Baseline. My mind was a thousand miles from class that day as I thought of Yasmin Hussein, my gorgeous Somali sweetheart, and the love that we shared. I thought of the many times we had sex in risqué places, a specialty of ours. What can I say? Yasmin and I liked to live dangerously.

Why, just last month, Yasmin came through for me in a major way. I had this racist asshole for a boss at my security company and Yasmin cleverly got rid of him for me. I ended up taking the sleazy bastard's job as security supervisor. I loved Yasmin something fierce. I could see myself walking down the aisle with her or whatever the Islamic equivalent is, get married and all that jazz.

If only Yasmin Hussein wasn't tripping. For real. After all that we've been through, all the times we've been there for each other, I can't believe that the mere appearance of a couple of her Somali female friends who disapproved of our relationship would cause Yasmin to start tripping. Don't I matter to her?

Forget the fact that I, Steve Salomon, am a Haitian-Canadian man and a Christian. Forget that Yasmin Hussein is a Somali-Canadian woman and a Muslim. Forget about our differences in ethnicity, color, culture and religion. Focus on the fact that we're a man and a woman, however different, who love each other. Loved each other. Why let other people come between us? Don't females realize that their female friends don't like to see them happy with their chosen man when they're still single? I thought someone as smart as Yasmin Hussein would be more savvy than that when it comes to this stuff. Guess I was wrong about her.

After class, I walked around campus aimlessly. Yasmin hasn't been by the apartment that we share. I guess she's staying with a friend. I suspect I'll hear from her eventually. I look at my cell phone, and on the wallpaper, I see a picture of Yasmin and I at Soleil Des Iles, one of our favorite restaurants, smiling. God I love this woman. I hope against hope that I don't lose her. Pray for us, folks. You've been with us thus far, dear readers. I hope Yasmin comes back to me. Keeping my fingers crossed. Peace.