Part One 

The Beginning of the end. 

As a young girl, ‘boyfriend and girlfriend,’ were terms, my sister and I were brought up to avoid. “Don’t fall into their trap, waa gaalo and their sneaky ways of trying to rob your innocence,” my father would often emit before we left for school.

I watched most of my peers break their virginity in their teens and blossom into adulthood early. It was disturbing. Covered in layers of make-up, and wearing sexy clothing was a new trend. My sister Hawo, and I were different and wore modest clothing that covered us from head-to-toe.

We were raised in a strict home that was dedicated in serving God. Most things that were deemed simple and entertaining were forbidden in our home. Such as television, music, photos, and most importantly non-Muslim friends were banned from our home.

In six days, I was turning eighteen and was off to college. I have received an academic scholarship, which made my mother proud, but left my father feeling bitter. It was hard for him to grasp the idea of his daughter moving away for college. He didn’t believe a girl is to leave home unless it was because of marriage.

“This is wrong! Very wrong, Maryan,” I hear him mutter to my mother in the living room.

“She is smart, you must trust her Yusuf. We raised her responsibly. It’s time for her to learn how to conquer this world on her own, we will not always be here to protect them,” my mother utters to defend me.

“Ah, nonsense Maryan! She will get married, and her husband will protect her. That’s the cycle of life that was meant by God,” he continued to argue.

My father would have never allowed me to move out for uni. It was my mother. No matter how religious my father seemed, it was the love he had for my mother that crippled his demands and commands. I admire that about him the most. It was hard to spot love in a world filled with hate and darkness.

“Men, they lie. Just like the devil, they will try to deceive your innocence. You hear me?” he yelled, as he grabbed my shoulders. We stood outside for an hour, as I was packed and was ready to go off to college. The driver pulled up in the driveway. 

“Yes, aabo,” I replied back for the millionth time. His eyes were filled with disappointment and grief. He was speaking to me as if he has already lost me to the dark side. He was worried and felt defeated.

“But look at you aabo, you did not deceive Hooyo. You are not the devil, you’re an angel” I smiled playfully.

“This is serious, do not mock me and downplay this gabaryahay. Men, these days are not in the same caliber as the men back in my time. We knew love, we knew women, we knew respect; we honored and guarded it with our lives. Love lies loose on their lips, hanging on lies instead of love” he spat in despair. My father was a poet, who only wrote words of wisdom when he was angry or sad. It was his way of curtaining his emotions away from us.

“Aabo, I will not succumb to weakness, I promise. I’m smart, you have raised me to be courteous, and prideful. I will not disappoint you,” I said to him while he stood there with teary eyes. I never saw him like this. I forced a smile to comfort him but he was broken.

Finally, I left home. It faded behind me, as the driver drove me away from what I have always known to be comfort. I felt a sense of unease creep in my heart. It felt heavy, like a sudden burden. It must be the responsibility I was to carry on this journey. I had no sister to befriend, no mother to hold, and no father to accommodate. I was alone and scared.

My driver got lost three times trying to find my dorm building.  “I am sorry, but I find the building soon,” he said, as he struggled to communicate in English. He didn’t speak much, but he was polite and helped carry my bags inside my dorm-room once he found the building.

“You look scared,” my driver mustered up a perfect sentence as he glared into my eyes.

“Yes, I am but I will be fine,” I replied, as I opened the door to my assigned dorm-room.

A petite, light skinned girl was laying on one of the beds, curled up reading a book.

“Oh hi, I am Aashi,” she jumped up to greet me with a thick Indian accent. The room carried profound smell that reeked of curry powder.  

“I just arrived from India this week, I am new here!” She bobbed her head as she spoke to me excitedly. She had a pleasant smile, and looked guiltless. 

She sat on her bed cross-legged, and watched me as I unpacked my bags.  

“The closet is very small, but I managed to leave some space for you,” she continued talking.

“That’s nice of you, thank you,” I finally replied in a sad monotone voice. I didn’t feel like talking, I had this burden in my heart. I was just a few hours away from home, but comfort felt distant.

I didn’t sleep that night. I hated sharing a small space with another stranger who snored and grunted in the middle of the night. I hated that I wasn’t sleeping in my own bed.

Part Two

It was clear to me that I didn’t fit in with this new crowd. White people feared my religion. Modesty provoked fear in their hearts. I lived in a world where being naked was more accepted than coating once dignity. I didn’t mind. I was more concerned about my grades then the likings of simpletons. So, I ignored the mean muggings and the rude whispers of classmates. 

Aashi made new friends, and we barely speak. She looks different, and wears make-up now. The profound smell of curry gradually faded in time now that she sprays victoria secret body mist on herself. She looks polished and lost. She doesn’t smile as much anymore, and her English sounds forced. I blame society. 

It was friday, and the library was somewhat empty. A group of guys huddled at one table not far from where I was sitting. Everyone was whispering in their soft voices except one guy who felt comfortable to talk in a normal tone in a big, quiet, echoing library. It was hard not to notice him. He had soft hair, and caramelized skin tone. He looked and sounded very Somali. He was the type to carry his loud tradition everywhere. He talked with his hands, and sat on the table instead of the empty chair next to him. He was the center of attention. 

I tried to look away before he noticed my creepy stares but it was too late. I felt his presence, hover heavily above me as I pretended to read my biology book. 

“Hi,” he greeted me, as he stood there. He was tall, and looked trendy with his trimmed beard. 

“Hey,” I shyly replied, hesitating to make eye contact.

“You must be a freshmen. I have never seen you on campus,” he spat as he tried to form an awkward conversation. 

“Yeah, first semester,” I replied nonchalant. 

Are you coming to the get-together-party for the Muslims?” 

“No, I don’t go to parties.”

“Nah, it’s just Muslim students getting together in a halal way.” he chuckled as he sat down comfortably across from me.

“I don’t think so, I have a lot of homework and studying to do.”

His lips quivered as he tried to build a conversation. I can tell, he was trying to be confident in his approach but looked nervous. His demeanor changed from when he was sitting with his boys. His voice was soft, and his words were careful. 

“I’ll see you around!” I stood up to pack up my things. I didn’t know what else to tell him. His presence produced discomfort for me. It was my father’s voice that kept interrupting my thought process, ‘stay away from boys, they’re the devil.’

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you Walaalo. I was just excited to see a Somali person at this school. I felt a sense of home, that’s all. My name is Ahmed by the way,” he muttered as he got up, feeling dejected.

“No no, it’s not you. I just have a lot to do,” I lied. Truth was, it was him. It was the scent of his cologne that reached across the table to trickier these unknown senses, it was his subtle but daring approach, it was his nervous smile that forced his facial expression to soften. Yes, it was totally him. 

“Let me give you an advice, walaalo. It’s healthy to give yourself a break from these books. Trust me, only a refreshed mind can learn new things,” he spat as he smiled a perfect smile. 

Even though I was just a stranger to him, his eyes were filled with concern for my well-being. What did he want? He must want something? My father was always right; men were the perfect liars and he was probably lying through his teeth.

We parted ways but not for long. 

He came to the library three times a week. He mostly sat at the same table with the same group of people. Oftentimes, I would catch him staring in my direction. I found myself craving for his attention, wanting him to approach me again. This time, I was prepared to be more receptive and approachable. 

But that day, never came. His presence in the library slowly faded in time.  

It’s been three months, and he was nowhere to be found. I longed for his attention. I missed his thick eyebrows and long eyelashes gazing in my direction intently. Maybe, he wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore. He probably found a girl, an easier-going-less-hostile type of girl. One, who didn’t dress in layers, and wasn’t afraid to talk to him. Maybe, it was better that way. 

I lost myself in trying to find this stranger. I heard there was another MSA party being held tonight. Perhaps I should go and pretend I was part of this weird society.

It was time to put efforts in dressing up but I didn’t know where to start. 

Aashi saw me dressing up for the first time, and offered to put some light make-up on my face. 

“Wow, you look beautiful,” she mumbled in shock as she dabbed my face with powder. 

“So, who is he?” she spat. 

“There is no he, I just want to look good for this party,” I lied. 

“Ah huh!” she raised her eyebrows skeptically. She didn’t believe me.  Truth is I didn’t believe in myself. 

Part Three

The party was filled with ostentatious people who wore the muslim tag as a milestone. Of course I didn’t fit in but I was on a greater mission. 

I was saddened, and little heartbroken that I couldn’t find him. This was the first time I liked someone, a stranger whom I barely met. 

I wanted to ask someone but how crazy would that conversation sound? ‘Hi, do you know a Somali guy named Ahmed? Who has a long eyelashes and thick eyebrows? With beautiful plump red lips, and unblemished skin? Oh, and he smells heavenly?’ God forbid, I would sound creepy and desperate. 

I left the party with disappointments. 

I feared darkness, but the night came with a slight breeze of wind,  the moon was full and the skies were crowded with sparkling stars that lit my path as I walked back to my dorm room. 

“Hey you,” I heard a voice creep from behind. It sounded familiar. 

“It’s me, Ahmed -from the library?” 

I had a hard time breathing. I felt a sudden rush in my head as my heart pulsated out of my chest. What was happening to me? 

“Hey, you” I stumbled on my words as I turned around to face him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you walking alone, and thought to accompany you?”

“Sure, but I’m not going far.” Dammit, I was playing hardball again. I promised I’d be more receptive and welcoming but it was hard to avoid old habits. 

“You look different,” he smiled. 

“Bad, or good?” I smiled back nervously.

“Some people don’t wear change very well, but you, you look amazing.” 

I felt the hair on my arms rise, and butterflies dance in my tummy. 

“Thanks,” I replied back while trying to stay composed.

He was wearing a light shade of brown pants with a yellowish tinge and a blue striped shirt. He looked wonderful, and smelled amazing as usual. 

“Hey, you hungry? I know this food truck that sells tasty halal burgers, and spicy cajun fries,” he spat in an exciting voice. 

“Is this your halal way of asking me out?” I replied jokingly. Ya Allah! Why was I joking? I hated myself for sounding so freaking desperate.  

“Or maybe I’m just a concerned brother who is trying to feed his sister some good food. Is that really a problem?” he grinned playfully. Was this what they call flirting? Whatever it was, it felt good to me. My father’s’ voice drowned as melodies played in the background and butterflies danced inside my womb wild and free from their cages.

The food truck was around the corner from my dorm building and although the burgers were amazing, I was too nervous to eat.

“Why did you stop coming to the library,” I suddenly interrogated him.

“So you used to notice me?” he inquired as he smiled with his eyebrows raised.

“You were not hard to notice. You were loud and very…Somali,” I chuckled. 

“Nevertheless, I’m honored. By the way, you never told me your name.”
“That’s because you never bothered to ask.”

“Fine, what is your name, Miss Mysterious?” He smiled.

“Misty,” I replied back.

“Let me guess, its short for Mysterious?”

“Maybe, ” I playfully replied back while holding back my laughter.

“Fair enough. So…” he stopped his sentence, as he just stared into my eyes. 
My heart felt warm and occupied. Although we were silent for a longtime, he spoke to me through his eyes. His silence was deep. Sound was for the simpletones, who resorted in simple words to convey their lust. That night, love, was spoken loud and clear.