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My name is Mohammed Aziz, and I’m a young Black man living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born in the town of Kano, northern Nigeria, to a Nigerian father and Iranian mother. Seven in the morning on February 5, 1988. That’s when I came into this world. Due to my unique heritage, I look quite different from most Nigerians. I stand six feet two inches tall, slim and fit, with light brown skin, curly black hair and pale gray eyes. My family moved to the region of Ontario, Canada, sixteen years ago. I’ve been living in this great country ever since. My parents stay in the City of Toronto, but I came to study at the University of Ottawa because I wanted to experience life outside of T.O. for a little bit.

Life in the Confederation of Canada can sure be complicated, man. Especially if you’re from a non- European background. There is a lot of racism and discrimination everywhere, but in Canada we have it down to a science. We call ourselves a multicultural nation, but we really aren’t. There are lots of Africans, Arabs, Chinese and Indians living in the Province of Ontario but they’re seen as an invasive force by a certain percentage of the Canadian population. How do I feel about this? I wish other immigrants would try harder to integrate themselves into Canadian society. It’s okay to be whatever race, culture or religion you happen to hail from, but remember that your allegiance should be to Canada, its legal, cultural and social norms. Some immigrants forget that, and I’m ashamed to say that most of those who forget or ignore these Canadian norms tend to be Muslims.

As I said before, my father, Akbar Aziz is a Muslim man from the Republic of Nigeria. He moved to the Republic of Iran from his homeland of Nigeria for business, fell in love with the culture and even married an Iranian woman. My mother Afareen is Iranian, and she had no problem adjusting to Nigerian culture after moving there from Iran. My family moved to Canada in search of better opportunities. My father came to Canada with an Oxford University degree, and yet he had trouble finding work as a civil engineer in the vastness of Canada for years. See what I mean about Canada being racist? How long do you think it would take a White guy with an Oxford University degree in civil engineering to find work in Canada? Probably a matter of minutes. Nevertheless, my father found work in his field and he was able to support his family. As for my mother, she went back to school. Mom studied Nursing at Ryerson University for four years and now works as a hospital in Toronto. She had a Nursing degree from the University of Tehran in the Islamic Republic of Iran but Canada doesn’t seem to value college and university degrees from outside of America or the European Union. And that’s a shame.

My family has done its best to adapt to the facts and hidden truths about our dear Canadian culture. It’s no secret that Nigerians are a very business-minded people and my pops always told me to focus on education. It’s the gateway to success in western society if you’re an immigrant. That’s why I am in the Telfer ümraniye escort MBA program at the University of Ottawa. A lot of people think that because my family is Muslim then I must be super religious. Dude, I can’t even recall the last time I went to a mosque and I don’t feel bad about it in any way, shape or form. My father is a Muslim man with a secular mindset, and he raised me in the same manner. Do I believe that God exist? Absolutely. Am I super religious? Hell no to the power of ten. I live my life my way. Only our merciful God can judge me, not some raging old guy in a mosque.

My view of the world often surprises the people I meet, especially westerners, once they find out certain things in my personal background. I don’t believe that religion and government should be the same entity. It leads to chaos, especially when fundamentalists seize power. That’s not good for anyone in the long run, trust me. Sharia Law is a bad idea. Don’t let it come to Europe, Australia, New Zealand or North America. It would fuck things up for everyone, Muslims included. Also, I have lots of friends from other religions. Most of my buddies are Christians and Hindus, with a Jewish guy or two thrown in. See? I truly don’t discriminate. Don’t ask me the quote unquote typical Muslim questions either. I have no love for either the State of Israel or whatever Palestine calls itself this week. They can all go to hell down there. Why is the world focusing its attention on these two? Seriously. We’ve got bigger fish to try, like dealing with global warming, and fixing the global financial market.

Why do I feel this way about geopolitics? Please allow me to explain. As the son of a Black man who married a Persian woman, I have experienced firsthand the racism of Arab/Persian society. You should have seen the way the Persians looked at my family and I when we visited my mother’s side of the family in the City of Tehran a while back. We might as well be Martians in their eyes. They found us that strange. Arab men feel that they can marry women of any race or religion but they get MAD when they see a non-Arab male with an Arab lady. They’re more racist than White guys, man. Not every White guy will attack a Black man he sees with a White lady. Arab males and Persian males are far more vicious and jealous when it comes to “their” women. And they lack any kind of self-control. They’re more emotional than a brat at a toy store. They will attack you. Trust me on that one.

You can forgive me when I say I don’t have much love for Arab guys or Persian guys. They’ve insulted my family more times than I care to admit. Simply for being who we are. They called my mother a race traitor for marrying a Black Muslim man instead of an Arab or Persian male. Fuck those bastards, man. I was actually cheering the American armed forces and their allies when they were kicking butt in Iraq and Afghanistan along with Pakistan in the aftermath of 9/11. I hate terrorists and religious fanatics who commit murder in the name of religion. And I am Muslim! Now you’ve seen everything. People have got to stop making pendik escort assumptions about me simply because of my faith. Would it surprise you to know that I visited several churches on many occasions with Christian friends of mine and found them far more friendly and welcoming than the average mosque?

Yes, indeed. I visited a Nigerian church in the City of Ottawa and I found it really cool. The Pastor was a friendly, well-spoken man. When a man has God in his life, whether he calls God by the moniker God or Allah, anyone can tell. It’s not something that’s easy to fake. You either have it or you don’t. I sincerely think that being a preacher is an avocation, not a job. The pastor of that Nigerian church was a man of God, and he was friendly to me even though I am Muslim because men of God should not be prejudiced. In certain mosques, I get funny looks because I am visibly of partial African descent and most of the locals are Arab. It does happen. Why? Simply because of the racism prevalent in Muslim communities. And unlike Christians, we don’t talk about these problems so they can never be solved. That’s a damn shame because the world would be a better place if Muslims admitted to themselves that they have issues when it comes to race and religion. Issues badly in need of solutions.

The other day, I was walking around with my dog Marquis in the Vanier sector of Ottawa. There is a quaint little Haitian restaurant in the area that I absolutely love. The Island Sun restaurant. I love Haitian food. While waiting for my food, I noticed someone looking at me. A six-foot-tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed, bronze-skinned Caucasian woman. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Like me, she was waiting for her food. When I stepped out, I handed my dog Marquis a piece of chicken and waited for him to finish eating it before walking back toward the Park. Guess who I bumped into on my way there? The tall blonde gal from the Haitian restaurant. She smiled at me and asked me if she knew me from somewhere. I smiled politely, and introduced myself. She shook my hand, and introduced herself as Carmen Bashir.

Carmen Bashir and I walked together for a minute. She seemed to like my dog Marquis, and she asked me a lot of questions. I had some questions of my own for this blonde beauty. Where did she go to school? What she was she studying? Was she single? Carmen was quite happy to answer my questions. She was in the MBA program at Carleton University. She transferred there from Brunel University in the City of London, England. Her father was a Lebanese Christian and her mother was White British. Wow. That’s cool. I told her that my Nigerian father studied at Oxford University, and held dual Canadian/British citizenships. Carmen told me that she was new to the Vanier area, but so far she liked it. I was a bit surprised by that. Carmen looked like money, and Vanier was a working-class area at best. Why did she like it so much? Smiling, she told me she loved Vanier because of all the cute Black men and Arab guys walking around. I grinned at that and told her that bostancı escort I was both Black and Arab. Carmen’s smile widened to the point of hurting.

As luck would have it, Carmen lived nearby, and she invited me over for a drink. We ended up sitting in her living room, which was filled with African art, and eating some delicious Haitian food together. I was a bit surprised that this tall, beautiful young Caucasian woman from Great Britain was so eager to welcome a stranger, a Black man at that, into her home. Then I realized something. Carmen was one of those highly experimental westernized Arab chicks. I heard about them but never really met one. While we ate together, she kept rubbing her foot against mine. I knew what she wanted. And you had better believe that I gave it to her. As soon as we finished our meal, we got down to business.

Carmen and I lay on the bed, naked as jay birds, and we did our business. The sexy Lebanese-British gal licked me from my head to my toes, then she took my eight-inch cock into her mouth. I closed my eyes as the sexy gal sucked my cock and licked my balls. She got me hard as hell, and I was ready to stick her but she told me that I had to prepare the terrain before playing. Translation? If I didn’t lick her pussy, and lick it good, she wouldn’t let me stick my cock into her. You had better believe I was ready for her. I spread Carmen’s shapely thighs, and gave her sweet blonde pussy a good licking. Carmen moaned as I fingered her cunt while teasing her clitoris with my tongue. A lot of men attack oral sex like a chore but for me, it’s a pleasure. I lathered up Carmen’s pussy with my tongue, making her squirm before she squealed in delight. I looked into her eyes and asked her if she was ready for me. She urged me to stick her.

I put on a condom and thrust my cock deep into Carmen’s pussy. The sexy Lebanese-British gal wrapped her arms around me, swearing like a sailor and urging me to fuck her harder. I fucked her real good, slamming my dick into her cunt like my life depended on it. I flipped her, putting on all fours and smacking her round ass while thrusting my dick into her from behind. I pulled on her long blonde hair, making her scream as I fucked her roughly. I’ve been with White girls and Black women, and the odd Asian broad but never an Arab woman. It’s true that Carmen is mixed but so what? You had better believe that I enjoyed my very first piece of Arab pussy, by way of Lebanon via Britain. Carmen and I went at it for like an hour, then we stopped because I was spent. In her backyard my dog Marquis was barking, and that jolted me back to reality.

Carmen smiled at me and told me that I fucked her better than any of the Black men and Arab guys she’d been with. I smiled at that. Well, I am half Black and half Persian. In the eyes of the world, I’m a Black man, though I am Afro-Persian if you want to get technical. Whatever. I accepted Carmen’s compliment, then put my clothes back on. Carmen and I didn’t exchange numbers, nor did we kiss. I wished her a good afternoon, then let myself out. I took my dog Marquis, then walked from Vanier down to the Rideau Center. I live in an apartment building near the Chapel Street area. One that’s pet-friendly. I stopped by Loblaws to grab some pet food for Marquis, then we went home. Not bad for an ordinary Monday in Ottawa, eh?

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