Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

My name is Mona Mahmoud and I’m a young woman of Palestinian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I attend Algonquin College, where I study Political Science. At five-foot-three and 110 pounds, a dark-haired, bronze-skinned and brown-eyed Middle-Eastern gal like me doesn’t strike anyone as scary. Until I get riled up because someone insults my Muslim faith, my culture or the Palestinian people. That’s when I become a hurricane.

I’m a proud member of a student-centered social movement dedicated to fighting the Apartheid system in the State of Israel. Their treatment of my fellow Palestinians is simply wrong, anyone can see that. Unfortunately, a lot of people have their heads up their asses. They think of us Palestinians as terrorists and view the Israeli Defense Forces as heroes. I try not let such fools get to me. Injustice can’t last forever, no matter who tries to give it legitimacy.

Guess what? The racist Apartheid government in South Africa used to be seen positively by much of the world and hold legitimacy, but it’s long gone now and South Africa’s politics are dominated by the Black majority, as they should be. I believe that the day will come when my people will be vindicated. I was born in Gaza, the most hotly contested and dangerous piece of real estate in the world. My parents Laila and Zekri Mahmoud fled Palestine for Ontario, Canada, in the eighth summer of my life. We’ve been living in Ottawa ever since.

As much as I love Canada and its people, Palestine will always hold first place in my heart. It shall always be my ancestral homeland. I am passionate about raising awareness about my people’s plight, and sometimes I guess it makes me a tad bit unapproachable. When you’re too adamant about any particular cause in the laissez-faire, borderline apathetic society of today, people get uncomfortable near you. There is always room for change in this life, and no matter who you are, you can learn something from a must unlikely source. How else would you explain how I fell in love with a Jewish guy?

I spent my whole life hating the Jews, I’m ashamed to say. I saw them all as Zionists, and saw their tabernacles and synagogues as places where Jewish rabbis preached the gospel of oppression against my Palestinian people. In those days, if you were Jewish and I knew about it, then automatically I suspected you of being one of those Zionist creeps who couldn’t wait to stomp the Palestinian people out of existence. I’m sorry but that’s how I used to think.

At school, I made friends with Muslim students and some open-minded Christian students but I avoided the Jewish students. When they reached out to me at Interfaith events, I roundly snubbed their efforts. How could I befriend a people dedicated to oppressing me and mine? It’s simply not practical. Every person in this world, and every nation, has a right to defend themselves against aggression from external forces. If you’re walking down the street and some fool attacks you with a knife, the police will understand if you defend yourself by any means necessary. Why? Your life is in danger! Why can’t the world understand that we the Palestinian people are merely defending ourselves against unprovoked aggression?

For thousands of years, Jews have lived in Arab countries and for the most part, we’ve had peace. Lots of Arabs have married Jews and vice versa. There’s a reason why lots of Jews you see in places like Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and other strongholds of Israel have dark hair, bronze skin and dark eyes. They look like us Arabs because we’re culturally and genetically related. The most die-hard Zionist in the Knesset today might have a distant relative who’s Arab. Likewise, you know those Arab men and Arab women labeled terrorists by Israel and its cronies in the West? Many of them have Jewish blood somewhere in their family tree. We look alike because we’ve been living together for thousands of years.

Many Jews around the world hate us Palestinians, and the Arab world in general. Could you please ask them a question for me one day? Ask them if Adolf Hitler, the legendary hater of all things Jewish, was Muslim. As far as I know, the most reviled mass murderer, tyrant and genocidal maniac in history was a white man from a predominantly Christian nation called Germany. He wasn’t Arab. He wasn’t North African. He wasn’t Persian. He wasn’t Middle-Eastern in any way. My people don’t believe in genocide.

Now, we Muslims aren’t angels. In our darkest moments, we’ve forcibly converted entire populations to Islam and persecuted dissenters. While unjust as a practice, that’s a far cry from systemically annihilating an entire people. We’re not the monsters that CNN, RDI and other Zionist-controlled media outlets make us out to be. If Adolf Hitler had come to the Middle East to persecute the Jews, we Arabs wouldn’t have handed them over. Not our genetic and cultural brethren. Not our siblings from the Abrahamic faiths. The Jews pray to the one true God who is ONE and indivisible, same as we Muslims do. They stem from the seed of the Anadolu Yakası escort patriarch Abraham, whom we Muslims call prophet Ibrahim. We’re all descended from the same venerable father of all monotheists.

We Arabs would have fought Adolf Hitler tooth and nail if he had come to the Middle East to persecute the Jews. For starters, no Arab nation would permit a Christian army to enter its country to persecute any minority within its population. Anyone who disagrees is either lying or they’re completely and utterly stupid. Europe stood idly by while the Jews got slaughtered in Germany. Those Jews who lived in Arab nations at the time received condolences and an outpouring of support from us Arabs. You see, while it’s perfectly okay to hate Zionism the same way one hates racism, it’s unfair to hate Judaism. I am a Muslim and I say this before Allah. Judaism is a beautiful religion, one dedicated to the Creator of All. It’s a shame that much of Judaism has been corrupted by the taint of Zionism.

A requirement of Islam is to respect all prophets of God, from Adam to Noah, from Abraham to Moses, from John the Baptist to Jesus Christ the Messiah, and finally, our prophet Mohammed. We’re all children of God. To hate the Jews means hating the prophet Ibrahim, founder of Judaism and a precursor to Islam, and as a Muslim, I can assure that this is NOT okay. By confusing Judaism with Zionism, I had indeed violated one of the most sacred covenants of my Muslim faith. I had disrespected one of the People of the Book. I thank the Most High for bringing into my life someone who helped me see the truth.

The day I met Benny Solomon is a day that I will never forget. I was in front of the Israeli Embassy, protesting the fact that many Palestinians had lost their lives in a recent bombing of Gaza. And just like the smug snake that he is, Benjamin Netanyahu made a joke about lots of noise in Gaza. I swear, if I could kick him in the nuts I would. He’s too cocky and smug, as if he’s frigging invincible. Anyways, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was telling you about how I met the love of my life. With a crowd of about thirty people, mostly students, I stood in the freezing rain, a mainstay of the Ontario winter, and held my picket sign. I got so into it that when a car swerved out of control ( the driver was later arrested for drunk driving ) and spun toward us, I didn’t notice until it was too late. I stood there, frozen like a deer in headlights.

You know how they say that in your last moments, your life flashes before your eyes? Well, that’s not exactly what happened to me. What flashed before my eyes is a large, blurry silhouette grabbing me and hurling me out of the way moments before the crash smashed into the spot where I’d been mere seconds ago. I got flatted by six feet three inches and two hundred and thirty pounds of well-muscled, off-duty security guard. I looked up to see a tall, large, brown-skinned young man looking at me with concern. Are you okay? he asked, holding out his hand. Um yeah, I said, and he helped me up as if I weighed nothing.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I met Benjamin “Benny” Solomon, the biracial son of a Jewish father and Haitian immigrant mother. Of course, I didn’t know his background details at the time. All I could do was thank him profusely for saving my skin while my concerned friends gathered near us. Glad I could help but I’m on my way to work, the young man said. Before he could leave, I asked him his name. I’m Benny, he said. I nodded and smiled. Thank you for saving my life my name is Mona, I said.

The police arrived shortly after, and hauled the drunk driver out of his pickup truck. One of the constables spoke to Benny and I, and took our information. Thank God you were here, I said, looking at my savior. Benny nodded courteously, then took off. I watched him go, noting the Commissionaires logo on his dark blue uniform. Undaunted by this chain of events, I finished talking to the police, then resumed picketing with my friends. I am that passionate about the cause of Palestinian liberation and nationhood, ladies and gentlemen. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about Benny, my savior, and whether or not I’d ever see him again.

While walking through the Algonquin College fitness center, guess who I ran into, three days later? A certain tall, buff young man in a red T-shirt and gray sweatpants who looked really familiar. Hello Benny, I said with a smile. Benny looked at me, grinned and extended a sweaty hand. Good to see you again Mona, he said. I looked at him, and for the first time I noticed the Star of David hanging around his neck. At the sight of it, I felt my blood boil. I guess Benny noticed and asked me if everything was alright. I nodded, willed myself to smile and politely asked him why he had this, ahem, symbol, around his neck. I’m Jewish, he said proudly.

When those words left Benny’s lips, I gritted my teeth. Cool, I said. We talked for a minute, and I found out more about him. Benny’s in the Police Foundations program at Anadolu Yakası escort bayan Algonquin College, and wants to be a police constable someday. I kept nodding along and smiling at Benny, but inside, I was burning up. You see, in those days, I had a strong dislike of all things Jewish. I thought of every Jewish person on this planet as having a hand, directly or indirectly, in Israel’s treatment of the Palestinian people. I thought they brainwashed American, Canadian and European audiences into sympathizing with Israel and hating the Arab world by portraying us Arabs as terrorists and dangerous savages while the Israelis were seen as tolerant, progressive and friendly.

How I loathed the whole lot of them. I’m not as good at hiding my emotions as I would like to believe, for Benny asked me several times if I was okay. Hard day at school today, I said, lying to his face with a phony smile. I thanked him again for saving me, and walked away. I went straight to the showers. I could not BELIEVE I let one of THEM touch ME. After that cleansing shower, I went to Masjid and prayed. I apologized to the Most High for my moment of weakness when I allowed myself to get friendly with Zionist scum and then I went home.

The following Saturday, I went to this night club called Casa, to have some fun. Yes, Muslim girls like dancing and partying too. We do more than just pray, walk around in hijabs and talk about our great religion. People have so many stereotypes about us it’s not even funny. Me? I’m a part-time hijabi. Some days I wear it, usually on Fridays for Jummah prayers. Most of the time, I dress like a westerner. I am fond of tank tops and short skirts. I like to let my hair down. Sometimes I braid it. And some days, I wear a long-sleeved T-shirt, a long skirt and a hijab. I wear what I please. It’s my right as a woman. So that Friday I showed up at Casa Night Club in a black turtleneck shirt, black leather miniskirt and thigh-high black leather boots. I’m short so it totally works. Flanked by my best friends Erica Blakely and Vera Norman, I entered the club like a queen with her entourage.

I’ve known Erica and Vera since high school. We all went to Lester ACADEMY. Erica is tall and athletic, with light brown skin, short black hair and dark eyes. Her mother is German and her father is Jamaican. Erica is studying business administration and she’s openly bisexual. Vera is a couple of inches taller than me, pleasantly plump, with light bronze skin, brown eyes and dark hair. Half white and half Aboriginal, Vera is my co-conspirator and ally when it comes to social justice and causes. This gal is passionate when it comes to speaking out about the current and past mistreatment of Aboriginal peoples by the Canadian government. The same government that goes around the world telling people how friendly and multicultural we are here in Canada.

We checked out the club and to be honest, the scene that night was meh. There were way too many girls in the club. I think sixty percent of them were fresh out of high school, meaning they’re loud, arrogant and territorial when it comes to the guys. The few good-looking guys inside Casa that night got picked off really quickly. I had my eye on this tall, good-looking Moroccan guy named Malik whom I recognized from one of my classes. Naturally, before I ‘accidentally’ sat next to him, a blonde-haired white chick with BIG boobs started talking to him. And just like every Middle-Eastern guy I’ve ever heard of, Malik couldn’t resist blondes.

I noticed Vera talking to a tall, red-haired white guy with a French accent. Vera is into French guys. And yet she’s always talking about how Aboriginals in Quebec and Arcadia are treated worse than those residing in places like Ontario, where the government is supposedly progressive and tolerant. Sleeping with the enemy, Vera? I thought bitterly. I spotted Erica talking to a short, spiky-haired Asian gal with tattoos everywhere. The two seemed really into each other. Damn, it’s like that? All of a sudden I found myself alone. My ‘home girls’ ditched me for their respective prospects. That’s the thing about female friends, once things get competitive, sisterhood goes out the window and it’s every woman for herself.

I found myself alone at the bar, a short and average-looking gal in a bar full of beauties of both sexes. The Pepsi I sipped tasted bitter. Hello again, came a deep, masculine voice. I turned and guess who plopped on the seat next to me. Benny Solomon, I said, shaking my head in surprise. Small world, he said, smiling innocently. I looked him over. Dude looked good in a white silk shirt, black silk pants and extremely shiny black dress shoes. You off to synagogue or something? I teased. Benny shook his head, then pulled something out of his wallet. An orange card with his name and picture on it, along with the words Ontario Private Security & Investigative Services written on it.

I’m working, Benny said, as I handed him back his card. Better than your uniform, I said, looking him over escort bayan once more. Benny smiled and thanked me. We talked a bit. I found out that he was in school part-time this semester and was working two jobs, security guard and night club bouncer, to help his parents because his Dad had a stroke. Give them my best, I said with empathy. Benny’s eyes fixed me oddly. Okay, he said evenly. I had a stroke a while ago, I confessed to him. I’m only twenty three and I’ve had two strokes so far. I was born with a congenital heart defect. One day, my ticker will simply stop beating. Could be sixty years from now, could be tomorrow.

I am so sorry, Benny said, when I finished my little spiel. He looked at me strangely, a look I knew all too well. When a young, pretty and seemingly healthy young woman says she has a terminal illness, people’s reactions can range from sadness, anger, disgust or disbelief. Benny’s face didn’t reflect any of that. Stay strong, he said firmly. I smiled and touched his shoulder. I live every day like it is my last, I said in my best James Bond impression. I’m a big fan of the James Bond movies. In those flicks, the terrorists tend to be crazy white guys with too much money and time on their hands. They’re not people whose only crime is having a different skin color or religion. Such people are usually fighting to stay alive. They’re not megalomaniacs from the West with world-domination schemes. Those are the real bad guys, by the way. At least in my opinion. Best way to live life, Benny chuckled. I nodded at that.

Benny looked at me and I looked at him. For some reason, when his eyes bore into mine, my heart skipped a beat. Benny took out his cell phone. Inwardly I smiled. Without prompting, I told him we should keep in touch. A surprised look filled Benny’s face, and for a moment, I worried that I’d presumed wrong. He caught himself and told me to go ahead. I grinned and told him my number. Call me when you’re done Mister Security Guy, I said, sounding way too damn “thirsty” to my own ears.

You got it ma’am, Benny said, then he got up. He held out his hand for me to shake and just as I thought he was going to shake my hand, he did something unexpected and kissed it. I gasped in surprise. I’m not used to hand kissing. Nobody does that anymore. Benny winked at me then vaulted from his seat, rushing through the crowd of dancing couples. Apparently there was a fight up front which he had to break up. One thing because clear to me as I watched Benny dash through the club like a lion. Dude’s got the cutest ass I’ve seen on a guy in ages, Wallahi!

As the evening wrapped up, we piled into Erica’s car and left the club. Vera was disappointed because her would-be French lover is in a relationship with another man and Erica’s Asian cutie is hopelessly hetero, as she calls it. I live in Vanier, not far from a Lebanese Christian church. Erica lives in Orleans but she was kind enough to drop me in front of my apartment. Since she had to go to Ogilvie to drop off Vera, Erica hugged me goodnight and left. I smiled to myself as I got into my building, a two-story brownstone on Donald. It’s privately owned, unlike sixty percent of the apartment buildings in the area, which belong to the City of Ottawa. My parents live in Barrhaven and keep bugging me to move back in with them but I like having my own space.

As I lay on my bed that night, I thought about Benny Solomon, his fearless smile, the gentle feel of his lips on my hand and how cute his butt looked in his dark pants. I’m one of those girls who’s been known to ‘accidentally’ cup of a feel on a guy or two, usually in congested places like the subway around rush hour, someplace like Toronto, where I can get away with it. I went out with a really fine guy last year, Khalid the Sudanese stud muffin. Half black and half Arab, born and raised in Khartoum. The guy had a really cute butt. He also had a cute face, great body and was packing one helluva dick. Sadly, he was an exchange student from a Sudanese university and went back to Africa after one semester in Ottawa. I miss his dick, and that fabulous ass!

In a way, Benny Solomon reminds me of Khalid, even though he’s half black and half white, instead of Afro-Arabian. Whatever, mixed guys are gorgeous! My favorite porn stars, Robert Axel and Shane Diesel, are mixed. When I watch these two plowing into hot and willing women of all shades, well, I tend to get hot and wet in funny places. Shit, the thoughts running through my head, eh? I went to sleep with a smile on my face and naughty thoughts of Benny Solomon’s derriere on my mind.

The following Monday, Benny and I met at school for a quick bite and a chat. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him. That’s why, when he asked me if I wanted to go see a movie with him that Tuesday, I said yes. I had a good feeling about Benny, and I meant that. Most Muslim girls won’t even date guys from other religions. Me? I’m confident enough in myself to date any man who appeals to my tastes as long as he respects my faith and culture. I like Benny. Well, I think I like Benny. He’s tall, good-looking, educated and goal-oriented. He believes in the one true God, which is always a good thing. He’s Jewish, and while I would have irked by this a while ago, it doesn’t bother me all that much now. I need to know if he’s got Zionist tendencies, though.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32