Habiba Hajjar of Saudi Arabia

"There is a certain organized chaos in this life that we lead, and that's what makes it beautiful," Oscar Basing said to himself as he sat on the front porch, reflecting on all the strange things that had happened to him lately. Sipping on his ice tea, Oscar looked at the sprawling sea of greenery that filled the landscape, everywhere he looked. This was Bossier City, Louisiana, in summer time. His hometown at her very best, and Oscar wouldn't have it any other way.

It has often been said that there is no place like home, and Oscar agreed with that statement, but he had to leave home in order to truly miss it. After spending a year in the Capital of Canada, Oscar was glad to be home. He'd missed the South and her ways, her beauty and her simplicity. Canada's love-hate relationship with immigration and racial diversity, and the general passive-aggressiveness of her people irked Oscar in a major way.

In the South, you didn't have to do much guess work, since most people let you know where you stood. Oscar had lived his whole life in Bossier City and knew who was what, and how people felt about one another. No secrets in the Dirty South. The brother felt at peace sipping tea on his family farm's front porch on a Saturday morning, enjoying some tranquility for a change.

Oscar's parents, Louis Basing and Viola Araujo-Basing were away in the City of Benton, Louisiana, for a three-day conference of Minority Farmers. In their absence, they entrusted the family estate to their twenty-year-old son. A lot of parents would have felt nervous about leaving their college-age son at home for three days, imagining everything from drunken parties to sex and drugs, but not the Basing folks. Nope, they raised their son Oscar right.

Located in the heart of Louisiana, Bossier City is small and quaint, and although it could never rival bigger southern cities like Atlanta or Fayetteville, it has a charm that is uniquely its own. African Americans like Oscar here made up twenty one percent of the town's population, and by and large, it was a nice place to live. Black or white, folks around Bossier City made an effort to get along. Bossier was a fine example of the integrated and progressive New South.

Oscar's parents met in Bossier in the mid 1990s. In those days, racial relations between blacks and whites across Louisiana and the rest of the South were still tense. This was the time of Bill Clinton and O.J. Simpson, after all. Oscar's father Louis Basing was new to the South in those less than halcyon days, having moved to Louisiana from his hometown of Portmore, Jamaica. While studying at Bossier Parish Community College, Louis Basing met Viola Araujo, a beautiful, bronze-skinned and raven-haired newcomer originally from San Miguel, El Salvador. It was love at first sight...

Louis Basing was smitten with Viola Araujo and couldn't let such a lovely lady slip through his fingers. Of course, there were racial and cultural differences to consider. The tall, dark-skinned, sturdy Jamaican student found himself drawn to the petite Latin beauty, and the feeling was quite mutual. A swift romance ensued, followed by an enduring marriage, and the two of them ended up settling in Bossier Parish. Their son Oscar was born a year after the happy couple graduated from Bossier Parish Community College.

Oscar Basing closed his eyes, and let his thoughts drift to a different place, and in doing so, he left the South behind. Oscar found himself in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, where he'd spent a year as an exchange student at the University of Ottawa. It's where he met the unforgettable Habiba Hajjar, the lovely foreign student originally from Dammam, Saudi Arabia.

"Salaam, brother, do you know where Monpetit Hall is?" those were Habiba's first words to Oscar, when they met in September. Oscar looked at the short, round little woman with the smiling face framed by a dark Hijab, and paused before answering her question. A newcomer to the University of Ottawa by way of an exchange program with Tulane University, Oscar was still getting his bearings at his new school and couldn't believe this Arab gal was asking him for directions.

"Um, no ma'am, but I have GPS on my phone, and some nice apps," Oscar replied, and he pulled out his iPhone, and the short Arab gal leaned closer as he showed it to her. Oscar clicked on the apps, pulling a transparent map of the University of Ottawa. They were standing in front of the University of Ottawa sign, the one located down the street from the nearby Rideau Shopping Center. Fortunately, according to the apps, Monpetit Hall wasn't far away...

"Thank you so much, brother, I'm Habiba, I'm a grad student, in engineering," the little Arab gal said, and Oscar smiled and offered her his hand, which she did not shake. Awkwardly, he stared at her. Habiba hastily made a fist, which she rapped against his, and Oscar nodded slowly, strange little woman, he thought, and he wondered how to best get on his way without offending her. A southern gentleman is always courteous to the ladies, no matter where he finds himself...

"Pleasure to meet you ma'am, I'm Oscar, second-year undergrad, in business," Oscar replied, after bumping his fist against Habiba's. Having gotten introductions out of the way, he nodded respectfully, wished her a good day and then went on his way. Oscar waved at Habiba and headed for his next class, located on the other side of the University of Ottawa campus, which sprawled over much of downtown Ottawa. Oscar ended up half a mile away, at a building on King Edward Avenue, close to the campus gym. What a trip...

Oscar didn't think much of it at the time, but his fate and that of Habiba, the young lady he'd just met were intertwined. He would later run into her at the International Students Office, where he asked the administrators about obtaining a work permit and a social insurance number, in order to get himself a part-time job to help with costs.

"One of our volunteer administrators also does volunteer work for City Hall, she can tell you more," said Ms. Glenn, the blonde-haired, fifty-something white lady working at the International Students Office. Oscar smiled and then went back to the office waiting room. Imagine his surprise when a familiar-looking, Hijab-wearing, diminutive gal came out to meet him, a big smile on her lovely face.

"Salaam, brother, Oscar, right? I'm Habiba, we met the other day," Habiba said, greeting Oscar joyfully and he grinned, and was about to offer a handshake, then remembered that she had a thing about that. He made a fist, and Habiba bumped her fist against his. Still smiling, Habiba looked Oscar up and down, and the young man took that as his cue to speak.

"Oh hello, Habiba, you're the administrator, small world, so, you're an international student too?" Oscar remarked, and Habiba nodded. What followed was a lengthy talk about international student life, how to navigate the system as a foreigner, and student life at the University of Ottawa. Along the way, Habiba also offered to help Oscar by accompanying him to Ottawa City Hall.

"Brother, like you, I'm new to campus, I mainly know the I.S.O. and I was really thankful for your help, let me help you, it's the least I can do," Habiba said, and Oscar nodded hesitantly. This young woman from the Arab world was something else. They left the I.S.O. together and walked to the Rideau Center, then crossed the street, walked through Confederation Park and headed to Ottawa City Hall.

"Habiba, you've been so kind, I would have gotten lost ten times on my way and Ottawa people wouldn't have helped me, they would have smiled and told me they didn't know, so I thank you," Oscar said to his companion, after pocketing the social insurance number sheet given to him by the Service Canada worker. Habiba looked at him and smiled, then nodded graciously.

"Brother, it was nothing, I'm just being a good Muslim sister, my religion tells me to help people, the same Creator made us all," Habiba said, and there was something about her words, spoken with a quiet confidence, which touched something in Oscar's very soul. Oscar was raised Methodist, like the majority of folks in his part of the South. Habiba's words reminded him of the Christian preachers he grew up with...

"May the Creator bless you, Habiba, please let me buy you lunch," Oscar said, and he looked at Habiba and smiled. The young woman looked at him pensively, and bit her lip. Finally, she returned his smile and nodded. They crossed the street and returned to the Rideau Center, heading to the crowded food court. Once inside, they got a table, left their coats draped on the backs of their chairs, and got in line.

"I love Chinese food," Habiba said happily as she and Oscar brought their plates to their table. She got a shrimp-fried rice with orange chicken and a Pepsi, and Oscar, who wanted to buy some salty pork but didn't want to offend his Muslim friend, ordered him a shrimp-fried rice with chicken balls, an egg roll and a can of coke. The two of them sat down, and Habiba was about to eat, when Oscar smiled and shook his head.

"Lord, please bless our food, and thank you for sending Habiba on my path, bless her path in turn, grant us health and success, and guide us and keep us safe, Amen," Oscar said, after he pressed his palms together and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Habiba was smiling and looking at him in a strange way. Oscar saw amusement in Habiba's brown eyes, and something else, which he had trouble deciphering.

"Brother, we also pray over our food in Islam, but we don't do long prayers like in your Christian manner, we simply say Bismillah," Habiba said excitedly, and Oscar smiled and nodded. You learn something new every day, the young man thought to himself as he and his lovely, enigmatic Muslim female companion finally began to eat.

"Sister, I don't know much about Islam but I know that the Creator of all things made all three branches of the Abrahamic faith and wants us to get along, I hope you and I can be friends," Oscar said solemnly, after he finished eating. Habiba, who'd just finished her meal smiled and nodded, then licked her lips, a gesture he found distracting for some reason, before answering him.

"Oscar, my friend, our friendship is going to be the stuff of legend," Habiba said with a sly wink, and Oscar smiled, even as his heart skipped a beat. As they left the Rideau Center and headed back to the University of Ottawa campus, Oscar kept stealing glances at Habiba, and felt nervous, though for the life of him, the big and tall, brown-skinned and Afro-sporting brother from Louisiana couldn't tell you why...

"What a man," Habiba said to herself as she and Oscar parted ways. The brother headed to his next class, and she couldn't help but admire him as he walked away. He was big and tall, easily six-foot-four, dwarfing her five-foot-five, petite yet curvaceous frame. Like a lot of short gals, Habiba had a thing for tall men, and Oscar was simply delicious-looking. He reminded Habiba of Mauritanian travelers she'd once seen in Dammam. Tall, dark, handsome and fearless...

That's how it all began, the friendship which changed their lives. Oscar and Habiba became inseparable, and soon people on campus began talking about the supposedly mismatched pair. The Muslim Scholars Association, of which Habiba was a member, included many Muslim students, hailing from places like Somalia, Yemen, Lebanon, Senegal, Pakistan, Chechnya, and so on. A lot of them were surprised to see a Saudi Arabian gal with such a close relationship with an African, and some even voiced their remarks, but Habiba ignored them.

Habiba wasn't quite sure how, or when, but somehow, she fell in love with Oscar. The brother took her to movies and restaurants, and certain spots in town became their favorite places. They watched American Assassin at the Scotiabank movie theater in Gloucester, and ate fine food at Moxie's. Habiba was thrilled when Oscar took her to the Lake Leamy Casinos, where they dined and checked stuff out but didn't gamble, being broke students and all...

"I can't get enough of your company, madame," Oscar said to Habiba, as they boarded the bus which would take them from Casino Lake Leamy in the City of Gatineau on the Quebec side back to Rideau Street in Ottawa, Ontario. The two of stood in the middle of this packed bus full of Quebecers. When a seat became available, Oscar, like a true southern gentleman, offered it to Habiba, and the young woman shook her head vehemently.

"If you stand I stand, I mean, I stand with you," Habiba said, grinning self-consciously, and Oscar nodded, then poked her nose. It was something he did. At first, Habiba found it annoying, and she sometimes swatted him in the back for it. Oscar's way of teasing her, his best pal and constant companion. Truth be told, he'd become much more than that to Habiba. In Ottawa, Habiba had very few friends, and she'd begun to distance herself from the Muslim Scholar guys and gals because they were too damn nosy...

"I stand with you too, Miss Dammam," Oscar said, and he flashed Habiba a sexy wink, followed by that fearless smile of his. Habiba looked at him, and her heart thumped in her chest. Oscar was so handsome, and so different from the men she was accustomed to dealing with. Canadians treated Habiba like a foreign object, her fellow Muslims viewed her as nothing special, and society at large didn't much care for her. Oscar on the other hand, treated her like a woman...

"Oops, sorry," Habiba said, as the bus hit a bump, thanks to the roads of Gatineau being so poorly maintained, and she found herself thrown against Oscar, who caught her in his arms. Hastily he let go, and mumbled an apology. Habiba looked up at Oscar, and he smiled gently, then sighed deeply. He looked like he was about say something else, when something caught his attention. Habiba followed Oscar's gaze, and her heart sank...

A new set of passengers had gotten on the bus, and among them was a tall, beautiful young black woman wearing a black jacket over a red tank top and yoga pants. When Oscar not-so-discretely checked out the woman's bulging derriere, Habiba's heart sank. Why do you look at her, Oscar? What does she have that I don't have? Habiba wondered, bristling with anger and a jealousy which surprised even her.

"Got to love life," Oscar said, almost to himself, and he was so distracted that he didn't notice the frown on Habiba's lovely face. When the bus hit another pothole, Oscar winced in pain, for Habiba's foot struck his. He looked at her, puzzled, and Habiba hastily apologized, and then flashed him a sweet smile. When a seat became available near them, the big-bottomed black woman who'd gotten on at the last stop went for it, and Oscar nodded graciously at her. The brother was still nodding when Habiba dropped her purse on the seat, and flashed the other woman a smile full of venom. Scoffing, the other woman walked away...

"Sit down, Oscar," Habiba said, in a bossy tone of voice that Oscar didn't recognize. It sent some chills down his spine. Nevertheless, Oscar did as he was told. Seated, he was almost at eye level with the lovely, diminutive and surprisingly intense Saudi Arabian Muslim woman. When Oscar's eyes met Habiba's, the handsome young giant paused. He found it hard to hold her gaze, and couldn't tell you why...

"Habiba, are you alright, my dear?" Oscar said, puzzled by the whole thing, for Habiba never acted like this. Habiba looked at Oscar, and quietly fumed as conflicting emotions warred within her. This one doesn't know how I feel about him even though I've been throwing major hints, Habiba thought, both amused and chagrined by Oscar's sheer cluelessness.

"No, Oscar, I'm not alright," Habiba said, and then, something amazing happened. The petite gal grabbed the handsome young giant's face, and pressed her lips against his. The two best friends kissed, for a brief moment, and then came up for air. Oscar blinked nervously, stunned by what Habiba had just done. The young woman smiled, and nodded firmly at him.

Oscar didn't remember the rest of the bus ride, but he remembered looking at Habiba in a way he never had before. Slowly, as they sat inside a café inside Rideau, understanding dawned on him. All of a sudden, Habiba's behavior made sense. The way she behaved when he looked at that other gal, and all that jazz. Oh, and there was that intense, passionate and completely unexpected kiss. Hot damn it, Habiba was really into him!

"My sweetest friend, forgive me for not noticing you sooner," Oscar said, and he took both of Habiba's hands and kissed them. A trio of Middle-Eastern guys walked by with their white girlfriends. They looked at Oscar and Habiba, and the pair casually ignored them. Habiba smiled at Oscar, even as her heart thundered in her chest. Does he really want me? Habiba pondered, as hope and despair continued tap dancing in her soul.

"Took you long enough, Oscar, I was just about to give up on you, but you've got a nice butt," Habiba said, laughing. Oscar grinned, and then, he took a real good at her. The short, bronze-skinned, dark-haired Saudi Arabian beauty with the shy smile and fearless gaze, she of the sweet-tasting lips and sharp tongue. What a woman, Oscar thought, as he drew closer, and boldly kissed her. Habiba kissed him back, and this time, it lasted quite a while.

There's something to be said about a couple's first kiss, and there's even more to be said about a couple's first time making love. Habiba and Oscar didn't do a whole lot of thinking as they rushed back to her on-campus residence, which was mercifully a single-occupant apartment. The happy couple started making out in the hallway and barely reached the apartment before consuming their passion, or being consumed by their passion, whichever way one puts it...

"My goddess Habiba," Oscar said as he kissed her, pressing her against the wall. Habiba kissed him back, and her small but strong hands gripped his butt and gave it a firm squeeze. Oscar grinned, and looked at Habiba, surprised by her passion, and thrilled by her wildness. Taking Oscar's hands, Habiba placed them against her face, and beamed at him.

"Oscar, I am yours, see me as I am," Habiba said breathlessly, and Oscar watched as she took off her Hijab, revealing her long, curly black hair. Oscar hesitantly caressed her curls, and smiled. What a beauty, he thought, marveling at her. They began the kisses again, and undressed each other. Habiba watched as Oscar took off his blue silk dress shirt, followed by his black silk dress pants. This is one fine brother, Habiba thought lustfully.

"Come here gorgeous," Oscar said as he pulled Habiba into his arms, and undid her blouse. Out came her breasts, which were surprisingly large for such a small lady. Oscar winked at Habiba, then began sucking on her breasts, fastening his lips around the areolas. The young woman moaned softly, and Oscar's hands began caressing and exploring her hot, curvy little body. He'd wanted her for ages, and at last, their time had come...

"Don't hold back, Oscar, kiss my Awrah," Habiba pleaded, as Oscar knelt before her and spread her thick thighs wide open. The brother buried his handsome face between her legs and began eating her out. Habiba sighed happily and closed her eyes, relaxing and enjoying as her lover's tongue slid into her womanhood, filling her up nicely, and teasing her clitoris in a most wonderful way. If Oscar is any indication of the men in Lousiana, I just might move down there, Habiba thought as he feasted on her.

"Hmm, you taste wonderful, Habibti," Oscar paused to say, and he looked up at Habiba, and she smiled at him. Beautiful in her nakedness, the petite Saudi beauty was rubbing her nipples as Oscar ate her out. Soon Habiba began to squeal in delight, as Oscar teased her clit and stabbed her pussy with his fingers, stimulating her quite nicely. Habiba squirmed on her living room couch, taken to cloud nine thanks to her beloved Oscar...