I can't wait until we do this again, I said to Rafiq Fakri as I kissed him goodnight. Grinning, the handsome, dark-skinned young Moroccan kissed me back passionately, and then exchanged a wink with his lovely wife Basmah Fakri, ( nee Redouane), who nodded understandingly. I bade them both goodnight, and they walked me to the door. Before I left, Basmah did something which surprised both her husband Rafiq and myself. Standing on the tip of her toes, the diminutive, curvy young Arab woman planted a wet kiss on my lips. I smiled, and stroked my goatee, wondering why she did that.
Basmah winked at me, then exchanged a knowing look with Rafiq, who shrugged. Aku Salam, he told me as we shook hands before my departure. As Salam Alaikum my brother, I said with a grin. Damn, what a woman, I thought, glancing at Basmah and her hubby one last time as I got in my rented Volkswagen and drove off into the cool Ontario night. Wish I had one like that. The woman, not the car. Folks, the three of us just had a night I shall never forget. To answer your unasked question, yes, my friends and I are swingers. Well, they're swingers. Me? I'm just a sexual jack of all trades, so to speak. Anything is okay between consenting adults, that's my motto in this life. And it's taken me places I could scarcely imagine, once upon a time.
Backtrack, in case you're wondering what in hell is going on, my name is Akil Hussein. I was born and raised in the City of London, England, to a Somali immigrant family. Two years ago, I transferred from Brunel University in the town of Uxbridge, England, to Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I came to Canada because I wanted to explore life outside of Great Britain, and also because I wanted to meet new people. I'd grown tired of life in metropolitan London, to tell you the truth. I'm the kind of brother who likes to explore new places, meet new challenges and explore what life has in store for me. That's how I ended up in the Capital region of Canada in the first place.
Life in Canada is definitely not what I thought it would be. I figured that Canada would be a lot like good old England, only bigger. Not so much. I see so many different groups of people here. Aboriginals, Africans, Hispanics, Asians and Arabs. I mean, we have a lot of ethnic minorities in England too but primarily in the City of London itself. The rest of England is pretty much lily-white. I'm finding out that the Great White North isn't nearly as white as I thought it would be. So far, I've been to Montreal, Calgary, Halifax and Toronto. By far the place I like the most is the City of Toronto but I know an urban guy like myself wouldn't get much work done there. That's why I decided to stay in Ottawa. It's the most boring of all Canadian cities so I thought there would be fewer distractions and I'd be able to focus on school more. Carleton has one of the best civil engineering programs in North America so I thought I'd be fine there.
People in Canada are so strange compared to my fellow Brits. In Britain, people are brutally honest with you. If they don't like you, they will let you know to your face. That's why we have racial and religious riots so often in London. Ethnic and religious tension between different groups is palpable, and we don't put a fake smile on and pretend everything is alright. It's not the British way. Sometimes we just cut loose. In Canada, for the most part they smile to your face and act super-friendly but as soon as you're out of the room, they say all kinds of nasty and bigoted things about you. The two-faced nature of most Canadians is utterly laughable. Some days, I don't know whether to pity these fools or smack them. As a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound brother with dark brown skin, I attract a lot of attention as I walk the hallways of Carleton University.
A lot of people in the City of Ottawa routinely ask me where I come from, as if my British accent weren't an indicator. I was born in North London, dammit. My parents, Bilal and Sagalina Hussein moved to England from their hometown of Balcad, in southeastern Somalia. No, I've never been to Somalia. I intend to visit someday, though. It's always good to visit the land of your ancestors. In Canada, I find the Somali community far more united than they are back in England. Somali-Canadians hang onto their culture, heritage and tradition to a level that British Somalis can only dream of. We're a bit more assimilation-minded in good old England. Not all of us of course but a sizeable number.
When I show Somali-Canadians pictures of my family and I at the pool or at the beach, wearing swimwear and frolicking in the water like everybody else, they seem surprised. They're a bit too conservative for my liking, to tell you the truth. My older sisters Adarah and Akilah don't wear the hijab, and neither does my mother. Adarah is at Oxford University, studying bio-engineering and Akilah is at Imperial College, studying Law. As for my younger brother Kader, he's finishing high school soon. He wants to be a rapper but I tell him that if he doesn't go to college or university, I'm going to ask dad to charge him rent. No freeloaders in the Hussein household. You either work and pay the bills or you go to school. Everyone must chip in one way or another. My parents worked their butts off to provide a roof over our heads and instilled the value of hard work and self-determination in our heads. We're a very hard-working and resilient bunch, my siblings and I.
Here I am in Canada's Capital, studying hard and exploring life in the environs of Ottawa. I didn't make many friends among the Somali-Canadian students at Carleton University. Everywhere I looked I saw Black, Asian and Arab girls wearing hijabs and long skirts, clutching the Quran to their chest as they walked in the hallways, among throngs of Caucasian students. Me? I don't get down like that. I mean, don't get me wrong. My religion matters to me. I am a proud Muslim. That doesn't mean I can't live my life by my own rules.
