Yemeni Tomboy Chronicles

"Mature black Muslim booty, thy name is Naima," Omar Sultan thought to himself as he watched Naima Ali step out of the apartment building overlooking South Keys Plaza in Ottawa, Ontario. Tall and very voluptuous, with curves that her traditional Islamic clothing couldn't hide, Naima was a fine specimen of African Muslim womanhood. Omar wanted some of that so desperately he could taste it...

"Quit daydreaming, Omar, Naima doesn't know that you exist," came a familiar feminine voice, and Omar looked up to see Aisha Jaber standing there, a mocking look on her pretty face. The young Yemeni tomboy stood there, clad in a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt, blue sweatpants and black Timberland boots. Her long dark hair was hidden by a dark gray Hijab. Omar grunted and shook his head, and Aisha laughed.

"A guy can dream, can't he?" Omar asked, and Aisha grinned, then playfully poked him in the ribs. The two best friends exchanged a dap while looking at the parking lot which sprawled two floors below. Omar and Aisha had known each other forever. They'd grown up in the same housing project. The tall, burly Somali brother with the perpetually dreamy expression and the slender, smart-mouthed Yemeni tomboy. Permanent fixtures around South Keys Plaza.

"Omar, I say this with love, but you got no idea how to handle a woman like that," Aisha chided him, and Omar nodded, his eyes fixated on the receding figure of Naima Ali, who stood in front of her Rav4. Aisha rolled her eyes, knowing that getting Omar to stop gawking at a big female booty was like trying to get a fish to come out of the water and start flying like a bird. Somali brothers love a big butt just like all African men, Aisha thought, and for the thousandth time she cursed her lousy luck.

"Don't hate, Aisha, I heard that Naima's divorce got finalized, after being married to an old Arab dude for so long, maybe my favorite Somali MILF wants some young chocolate," Omar said, and Aisha laughed, then winced as he looked at her, seemingly hurt. Aisha raised her hands in mock surrender, downplaying what she'd just done, and Omar pursed his lips and smiled. They were both twenty years old, and if people their age aren't allowed to be dreamers, then who is?

"Omar, quit daydreaming, besides, I'm going to Walmart, want to come with?" Aisha asked, and Omar nodded. The two of them rode the elevator down, and then crossed the parking lot, running toward the busy intersection separating their building from the South Keys Plaza, which included a ton of stores including Winner's, Walmart, a book store, and a Starbucks. They stood there, waiting for the light to change before attempting to cross.

"To hell with that," Omar said after a few minutes, and Aisha watched, amazed, as the tall, handsome and chubby Somali brother made a run for it, evading oncoming cars and safely making it to the other side. Crazy man, Aisha thought to herself, and moments later the light changed, allowing her to cross the street safely. Upon reaching the other side, Aisha clapped Omar's meaty shoulder, hard enough to make the big and tall young brother wince.

"Omar Sultan, are you frigging crazy? You could have been killed," Aisha shouted, getting all up in Omar's face, as they say. Omar looked at her and smirked, puzzled by her reaction. Aisha glared at him, looking very angry and concerned, and Omar wondered what was wrong with her. Must be one of those female problems, Omar thought, trying not to laugh, for he knew it wouldn't take much for Aisha to fly off the handle.

"Um, relax, Aisha, I'm cool," Omar said, and Aisha shook her head, groaning in frustration. At six-foot-three and three hundred pounds even, the dark-skinned Somali Canadian brother didn't fear much. So why did he feel annoyingly intimidated by the five-foot-seven, bronze-skinned, slender young Yemeni Canadian Muslim woman standing before him?

"Dumbass," Aisha said, and she scoffed, and took off into a huff. Omar stood there scratching his head, mussing up the stylish dreads that Aisha's older sister Yasmina had done for him at the Al-Jaber Hair Salon a month ago. As Aisha took off, Omar watched her, and not for the first time, he noticed that the Yemeni tomboy had a nice ass on her. Don't think like that, Omar chastised himself. He'd known Aisha for a long time and even though she was a beautiful gal in her own way, he refused to think of her that way. It would just be too weird...

"Son, judging by the way she's acting up, I think she wants you," came a masculine voice, and Omar looked up and saw Mr. Abdirahman, an old Djiboutian man who lived in one of the nearby buildings. They'd spoken a few times at the mosque and at Islamic community events. Omar shook the elder man's hand, and smiled, wondering what the Djiboutian was getting at.

"Abu Abdirahman, Aisha and I are just friends," Omar said, laughing dismissively. The old Djiboutian smiled and shrugged, and Omar wished him a good day before taking off in the direction that Aisha had gone. Omar was out of breath by the time he arrived at Walmart, where Leslie Jacques, the burly Haitian security guard, was checking people's receipts. Omar exchanged dap with the Haitian dude, and then went to McDonald's since that's where Aisha always went first...

"Hey, Joey, fam, have you seen Aisha?" Omar said to Joseph, the tall, red-haired young white dude working the counter at McDonald's, when he realized that Aisha was not inside the restaurant. Joseph smiled at Omar and casually shook his head, adopting a really weird stance. Omar stroked his goateed chin, puzzled by Joseph's behavior.

"Sorry, Omar, I haven't seen her, man," Joseph said, smiling weirdly. Omar looked at Joseph, whom he saw fairly often, both at Carleton University, where they both studied accounting, and at the South Keys Plaza, where they both worked. Why was Joseph acting so oddly? Omar was still puzzling things over when he felt a presence behind him. Omar was about to investigate when suddenly he felt something bump him in the small of his back...

"Hey, Omar, took you long enough to get that ass in here," Aisha shrieked into his ear, bumping the big Somali brother from behind, and practically giving him a heart attack. Omar gasped, letting out a very unmanly scream, and Aisha laughed. Turning around, Omar found himself almost nose to nose with Aisha. The Yemeni tomboy totally got in his personal space, a malicious grin in her face.

"Crazy woman," Omar said, and he impulsively grabbed Aisha, and began to tickle her. Aisha struggled in her big friend's arms, to no avail. As feisty and fearless as Aisha was, Omar was almost a foot taller and much bigger than her. The burly Somali brother held onto her and would not let go. In fact, Omar was laughing, and that really pissed Aisha off. His face was dangerously close to hers. So close...

"Gotcha," Aisha suddenly screamed, extricating her hands from Omar's grip long enough to grab him by the ears, and he yelped, for his ears were a really sensitive spot. Aisha looked into Omar's eyes, and then, something shot through her body like a bolt of lightning. Omar looked at her, and smiled wanly. Driven by something she would have been hard-pressed to explain in that moment, Aisha brought her face closer to Omar's. And that's when it happened. They kissed.

"Whoa," Omar said, a few seconds later, and he looked at a grinning Aisha, stunned by what she'd just done. The burly Somali brother was even more surprised when the sneaky Yemeni tomboy clapped him...and not on the shoulder this time. Nope, he felt that one on his bum. Omar smiled nervously, and Aisha bit her lip and looked into his eyes, searching for something. Omar could feel it down deep in his soul...

"Been wanting to do this for ages," Aisha said, still grinning, and Omar smiled at her. Suddenly he was aware of everyone inside the McDonald's restaurant staring at them. Discretely, he pulled Aisha away from the front counter, since there were people waiting to file their order. Some looked amused by what was happening, while others were grumbling impatiently.

"Come here, Aisha," Omar said, and the young man looked at his lady friend, unsure what else to say. Omar's heart thundered in his chest. Aisha had just kissed him. Sure, he found her beautiful but she was his friend, the only female outside of his mother and sisters whom he trusted. Did he ever have sexual thoughts about her? Sure. He always downplayed them because he didn't want to mess up their friendship. What should he do now?

"You've got sweet lips, handsome," Aisha said, and Omar looked at her, puzzled. For some reason, Aisha looked like she was glowing, and it was as if Omar were seeing her for the first time. The feisty, perpetually disheveled tomboy whom he'd grown up was looking...gorgeous and womanly. Omar felt his heart...and other parts...react to Aisha in a way they never had before. What was going on?

"You have sweet lips too," Omar said, unsure what else to say, and Aisha's expression changed from a happy, hopeful one to a rather somber one. Her eyebrows knitted, and her eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed. If this fool doesn't realize that I'm the perfect one for him and starts talking about that old bitch Naima I am going to die, Aisha thought, a well of sadness springing in her breast.

"Maybe I made a mistake," Aisha heard herself say, and she looked at Omar, and at the other people inside the McDonald's. Aisha turned to leave. For ages she'd been pining for Omar, hoping that the day would come when the Somali brother would realize that she had the hots for him. Aisha had dated a few guys, and been around the block since enrolling at Carleton University, but she had never stopped loving Omar. Her parents knew how she felt, as did most people who knew her. Omar, of course, was one hundred percent clueless...

Normally, Aisha kept a tight lock on her feelings around guys, especially Omar, but not today. Things were different, all of a sudden. Today, as Omar came dangerously close to getting his beautiful, dumb ass crushed by a pickup truck while crossing the street, something inside Aisha broke. The thought of losing the man she had loved since, well, forever, was more than the feisty, fearless young Yemeni woman could bear.

"Aisha, please, wait," Omar cried out, and he grabbed her arm, and Aisha whirled around and glared at him. Omar smiled and gently pulled her close. Looking at her, he took a deep breath. The young woman who stood before him was beautiful and fearless, and more real than any of his fantasies about Naima and all the other women he daydreamed about. He knew he'd kick himself if he let such a golden opportunity pass him by. That's why he kissed her. It was gentle, and sweet, and awkward. Omar's first time kissing anyone...

"Hmm," Aisha murmured, and she and Omar kissed passionately, forgetting where they were, and everything else that might have been going on around them. When they came up for air, people were smiling at them. Omar and Aisha exchanged a grin, and then, slowly, hesitantly, the two best friends linked arms, and stepped out of the restaurant. Grabbing a shopping cart, they headed down the aisle to do some shopping.

"I'm going to make you mine," Omar whispered into Aisha's ear, and the young woman grinned, and playfully smacked his ass. Aisha was about to reply to Omar's words when a group of young Arab guys walked by, and stared at them. Two of the Arab guys were holding hands with white girls, and the third was holding hands with a young black woman. Disapproval rolled off of them in waves when they saw Aisha with Omar. Aisha linked her arm with Omar's, and kissed him on the lips. And just like that, they kept on walking, not caring what anyone thought of them. Today marked a wonderful new beginning for them, and they weren't around to let anyone ruin it...