Manal Assad of Morocco

"Manal, seriously, this is what the toilets look like in Islamic countries? Really? No place for you to sit, you just squat down? Hot damn," Justin Melrose said, grinning and shaking his head as he looked at the picture of the tiled floor. Focusing on the image on the computer screen while smirking derisively, Justin failed to see the look of pure fury on the face of his companion, who simmered with anger.

"Justin, don't you dare insult my culture," Manal Assad replied tersely, and she grabbed his arm for effect, causing Justin to wince. He slowly turned to look at her, and paused. For the whole time he'd known Manal Assad, the short, curvy young Moroccan Muslim woman was timid, self-effacing and quiet. He'd certainly never seen her get pissed before, that's for damn sure.

They were in the University of Montreal library, working on a project called Islam & The West: Cultural Relativity for their Sociology IV Class. The day started out nicely enough, Manal and Justin met at school, grabbing coffee at Tim Horton's, and then they went to the campus library to work on the project. It was worth twenty five percent of their grade, and due in two weeks.

"Oh snap, my bad, Manal, I didn't mean to insult your culture or your religion, I honestly thought you were joking when you told me that this is what the restrooms look like in Safi," Justin said, choosing his words carefully. Manal was still glaring at him, but slowly her expression softened, and that timid smile of hers returned...briefly. Holding his hands up in surrender, Justin gently nodded at Manal, hoping she accepted his apology.

"You need to get out more, Justin, there's more to life than Montreal," Manal said, and with that, the young woman grabbed her purse and walked away. Justin watched her go, as did several patrons sitting on the quiet floor of the University of Montreal library. Dammit I done fucked up again, Justin thought to himself as Manal turned a corner and then disappeared from view.

"Foolish westerner, he's no different from the white people who call me names on the bus," Manal said to herself as she hastily exited the campus library. It was Friday, and in half an hour, around noon, Jummah prayers would begin at the prayer space so generously granted to the Muslim Scholars Association by the University of Montreal. Still fuming over Justin's words, Manal headed to there, hoping to beat the cross-campus traffic.

Justin sat at the computer for a long time, staring at the screen and not really seeing it. He kept running the events of the past half hour in his mind. Was Manal that pissed over what amounted only to a bad joke? Justin shook his head. He'd grown up in a rural area outside the town of Jacmel, on the island of Haiti. Justin had to deal with outhouses where he grew up, and even after moving to Canada for school, he still hadn't let go of his unique brand of toilet humor. Today it finally cost him, irking the hell out of his friend and classmate Manal.

"I've got to rectify the situation," Justin thought to himself, and the tall, dark-skinned young man rose from his seat, and made his way off the library floor. Where on earth could he find Manal? Justin called her, and his call went straight to voice mail. When he tried to text Manal, he didn't get an answer. Dammit she's really mad, Justin thought, feeling quite perplexed.

Manal stepped into the ladies washroom, and proceeded to take off her shoes and socks, washing her face, hands and feet while several young women looked at her, seemingly fascinated. Ignoring them, Manal cleansed herself, and then headed for the prayer space. There were six rows of crimson carpeted on the floor, and the brothers were already at prayer. Manal headed to the back, the sisters prayer spot, and knelt down and prayed.

"Jummah Mubarak, brothers and sisters, how are we today?" said the Imam, an older student who appeared to be of Somali descent. Manal sat down and listened to the Imam as he spoke about the importance of a good Muslim's conduct, especially when dealings with the trials and tribulations that plagued adherents of the Islamic faith in the province of Quebec.

"By the Grace of the Most High, we shall persevere," Manal said to herself, nodding in agreement as the Imam cautioned the brothers and sisters in attendance about the hostile climate facing Muslims of all hues in provincial Quebec nowadays. A gun-toting racist white male nutcase had gone into a mosque and killed several people. Mosques across Canada had been vandalized. It was a tough time to be a Muslim in Canada, that's for damn sure...

Manal thought of a recent incident on the bus. She'd been riding the bus from her apartment in Laval to the University of Montreal campus, and on that lengthy bus ride, she ran into a lot of French Canadians who stared at her. As a Hijab-wearing woman of color, Manal was used to being stared at everywhere she went, but that day, the stares were downright hostile.

"Espece de terroriste, retourne dans ton pays," shouted an angry-faced, blonde-haired and blue-eyed white woman in her forties. The blonde woman had gotten on the bus a short time after Manal boarded it, and she was not happy to see her sitting there. Blondie glared at Manal with such hatred that the young woman froze, unsure how to react. I don't even know you, Manal thought, and she got up from her seat and went to the middle of the bus. Amazingly, Blondie got up and followed her.

"Laissez moi tranquille, diablesse blanche, leave me alone, you white she-devil," Manal said angrily, when Blondie came around. This time, Manal rose and confronted the angry white woman, refusing to be bullied. The other woman was bigger than her and had to be close to six feet, a great deal taller than her height of five-foot-five, but Manal refused to let that intimidate her.

"If you touch me, you towel-headed bitch, I'll call the police," Blondie said, laughing while taunting Manal, and she was still smirking when the young Muslim woman lashed out, and slapped her hard across the face. Nobody calls me a towel head without suffering the consequences, male or female, Manal thought angrily, squaring off against the shocked, irate Frenchwoman.

That's how Manal and Blondie got into a fight, and got held by the Montreal Transit Authorities and detained for several hours, given a stern talking to before ultimately being let off with a stern warning. Given the anti-Muslim sentiments in Quebec, things definitely could have gone the other way, so Manal counted herself lucky. The young woman smiled, reminiscing about that harrowing yet fulfilling day...

Justin walked around campus, wondering where he might find Manal. The gal wasn't answering her cell phone. Realizing it was Friday, the holiest day of the week for Muslims, Justin asked around, looking for the spot where they prayed. An Arab-looking dude named Ahmed volunteered to show him the place, and Justin gratefully followed him.

"Here we do Wudu, and then we go to prayer," Ahmed said, and he showed Justin a washroom with four separate basins where several young men were busy washing their faces, hands and feet. Justin nodded, and then after a brief hesitation, did the same. He followed Ahmed to the prayer space, intent on finding Manal and hopefully apologize to her...

"Oh shit," Manal blurted out, then she put her hand over her mouth, so surprised was she by...a most unexpected sight. Justin walked into the prayer space, along with several brothers. While walking in, he was speaking to Ahmed, a young man Manal recognized as one of the leaders of the Muslim Scholars Association. What the fuck is Justin doing here? Manal wondered silently.

"Thank you for making me feel welcome, Ahmed, it's my first time here," Justin said to Ahmed, who smiled and nodded graciously. Justin looked around, discretely looking at the back of the prayer space, the sisters corner. He glanced Manal, and discretely waved at her, and even from this distance, her reaction was instantaneous. Justin then sat beside his new pal Ahmed as the preacher continued his lecture...

Justin took a look around the makeshift mosque, and saw men of all hues sitting side by side as the preacher lectured. After the preacher said certain words in Arabic, everyone rose at once, and he did the same. Justin carefully mimicked Ahmed's actions, determined not to embarrass himself in front of everyone. He didn't want to disrespect these people's faith, especially given how welcoming they were. So unlike some churches that I've been to, Justin mused.

"I can't believe this fool came to the Masjid," Manal thought to herself as she concluded her prayer, then headed toward the front of the prayer space, where brothers and sisters alike were trying to grab their shoes and bags. Manal grabbed her stuff and made a run for the door, hell-bent on avoiding a certain loud-mouthed Haitian who wasn't half as smart or as charming as he thought he was...

"Hello, Manal, or should I say Salaam? Got a minute?" Justin said, after loudly clearing his throat and startling the hell out of Manal. The young woman gasped, and blinked in surprise. Justin flashed her that fearless smile of his, and Manal paused. She looked at Justin, and couldn't decide whether to slap him or...what? Instead, she sighed deeply, then at last spoke to him.

"Justin, you've got one minute, I've got class," Manal said sharply, and Justin nodded, and they started walking together. Students were leaving the prayer space in droves, some leaving campus, others heading to lunch, with the majority of them heading to class. Justin talked incessantly, and truth be told, Manal didn't really listen, but his pleading was most...satisfactory.

"Look, Manal, I'm absolutely and truly sorry about what I said earlier, I want to make it up to you," Justin said, and Manal looked at him. Look sincere and don't smile, Justin thought to himself, willing himself to be calm, cool and collected, yet earnest, as Manal scrutinized him with those lovely, inquisitive brown eyes of hers. What's going on inside that head of hers? Justin wondered.

"Alright, Justin, I'll let you make it up to me, but only because you're cute when you squirm, I'll let you buy me dinner, at a place and time of my choosing," Manal replied, in a voice oozing with haughtiness. Upon hearing that, Justin grinned, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Manal winked at him, and then slapped his shoulder, hard enough to hurt. That caught him by surprise, and he winced a bit.

"Hey, whatever happened to your rule against touching?" Justin protested, remembering how, when they first met months ago, he wanted to shake Manal's hand but she refused, out of some obscure religious rule against touching. Manal looked at Justin, laughed and shrugged. He watched as she walked away, and nodded to himself. Little Miss Religious has one hell of an ass and I want some of that, Justin thought with a smirk.

"Oh, and Justin? Stop staring at my ass," Manal Assad said, as she stopped, twenty meters from Justin, making this comment loudly, and attraction a lot of attention because of it. Justin Melrose, a tall and handsome, proud son of Haiti with a history of success in dealing with the ladies, looked at this diminutive, curvaceous Moroccan cutie and stroked his chin. Flashing her a bright grin, Justin shrugged. Manal rolled her eyes, smiled and then kept on walking. All in due time, Miss Assad with the big beautiful ass, Justin thought to himself before walking away.