Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
“According to numerous news outlets, the island of Haiti has been flooded by Hurricane Matthew, and close to a thousand of our people have lost their lives, we’ve got to do something,” I said to my uncle, a nebbish, dark-skinned, bald, annoying and anal retentive little man named William Jean-Claude as we sat at the breakfast table inside his townhouse in the suburb of Barrhaven, Ontario.
My uncle listened impassively as he sipped his coffee, and I could tell that he didn’t care one bit. Why expect the world’s most whitewashed brother to help the Haitian people in their time of need? I don’t now why his reaction surprised me. I willed myself to be calm, partly because my uncle’s daughters were in the living room nearby, watching their Saturday morning cartoons. Seriously, apathy is the one thing I don’t understand…
“Not my concern, Suleiman, now, I really must get going,” Uncle William said, and with that, he got up and told his daughters to get ready. Apparently, he was taking them to Casselman, where he would spend thanksgiving weekend with his girlfriend Lena, a white chick he’s apparently really fond of. I have nothing against interracial couples, hell, I’ve dated several white girls while attending Carleton University, but I don’t understand my uncle’s callous disregard for the Haitian people, his own people, in their time of need…
“Well, I’m going to the Haitian Adventist Church downtown to see if I can help,” I replied, and my uncle shrugged, and walked out with his daughters. A few minutes later, his dark gray Rav4 sped out of the driveway. I slowly let out my breath. The dude annoys me like you would not believe. Seriously, he’s the type of person who would call me at work and hassle me over dirty dishes, or stuff like that. Dude puts the A in anal retentive, seriously.
I walked from the townhouse on Pizzeria Circle, past the local Catholic school and past the Walmart, and made my way to Marketplace Station. I waited a few minutes for the OC Transpo 95 bus heading to the other side of town, took out my dark yellow U-Pass and got bostancı escort bayan on. The damn bus was halfway empty, but this old Asian dude with the sniffles insisted on sitting right next to me, and he was sneezing the entire time. I switched seats, and the bozo had the nerve to look at me funny. Um, what the fuck?
As the bus headed toward downtown Ottawa, I found myself feeling nervous. The previous day I called my mother Elaine Jean-Claude, who travels to Canada and the U.S. often, but resides in Cap-Haitien, and by the grace of the Lord, she was alright. It’s mostly the City of Jeremie, in southern Haiti, that’s affected by the flooding and my mother happens to live in the City of Cap-Haitien, deep in the northern part of the Republic of Haiti. Thank heavens for small favors.
I haven’t been to the Haitian Adventist Church of Ottawa in ages, not since I caused quite a scandal by walking away from my Christian faith and embracing Islam. A lot of people are converting to Islam nowadays, but among us Haitians, it’s almost unheard of. I was quite active in the church, and I guess that had a lot to do with how my people viewed my departure from Christianity.
I did not leave Christianity for Islam lightly. The process was slow and painful for me, but I must say, I love my Islamic faith. I have prayed at the main mosque and I’ve also joined my brothers and sisters in Islam at our makeshift mosque on campus, on Friday afternoons. For me, Islam is the way. Truth be told, I had a lot of doubts about Christianity in those days. We Haitians are people of color, why are we worshipping a divine image that was made to resemble a white man? That’s idolatry and racism wrapped in one, if you ask me.
I got off the 95 bus at Rideau, and instead of walking through the busy mall, I cut through the Mackenzie King Bridge, and made my way to a familiar back alley. I walked past the Ottawa Mission, and ended up right in front of the Dollar Store. I kept on walking, and before I knew it, the Haitian Adventist Church of Ottawa was in sight. ümraniye escort I took a deep breath, and then went in.
“Solomon, it’s been a while, what brings you here?” asked a feminine voice, and I turned around to see a tall, bespectacled, slender but curvy young Haitian woman with a mini-fro staring at me, her obsidian eyes filled with annoyance. I looked her up and down and smiled. I tend to smile and act nonchalant, I’m a big and tall Haitian dude with a wicked sense of humor. It’s just the way I get down. A lot of people hate me for it.
Upon realizing who was addressing me, I was so stunned that my heart skipped a beat. For this was none other than Esther Philbin, whom I once called “mon oiseau” because she likes to sit upstairs, in a tiny office where the church’s sound system is housed. I once had a thing for her, but she was too serious for me. Also, when I became a Muslim, left the Haitian church, and began calling myself Suleiman instead of Solomon, Esther took it to heart. Oh, and Esther unfriended me on Facebook, changed her cell phone and started hating on me.
“Um, I’m here to help, with the flood and all,” I replied hesitantly, and Esther looked at me and shrugged, then stepped aside to let me pass. I headed downstairs to the men’s room, and turned around. Briefly I caught a glimpse of Esther’s big ass, which not even her conservative, ankle-length dress couldn’t hide. Hmm, I love my Haitian women with their fantastic derrieres, I swear. I went into the washroom, and the two piss-stations were occupied by a couple of older Haitian dudes who were in deep conversation. Solution? Got to go into the stall.
“Oh Esther, how I miss thee,” I whispered to myself as I stood in the stall, with the door tightly closed behind me. I tried to take a piss, which should have been easy since I had a cup of coffee before boarding the bus, but to no avail. I closed my eyes and thought of lakes and ponds, and nada happened. I found myself thinking of Esther, the tall, curvy and nerdy, oh-so serious Haitian cutie who has contempt for me these escort kartal days but once liked me very much.
“Oh yeah, give me that ass,” I whispered, and I visualized Esther, dripping with attitude, arrogance, contempt, and sexiness, bending over for me. I caressed that big dark brown ass, and slapped it. Esther turned around, all pouting and attitude, and I smacked that ass some more. I rubbed my hard dick against Esther’s big ass, and to my immense surprise, Esther threw back that ass, grinding it against my dick…
“Solomon, stop talking and fuck me,” Esther said, and I grinned and pushed my dick into her pussy. I gripped Esther’s hips and thrust into her, and she moaned deeply and urged me to fuck her harder. Happily I slammed my dick into her, and Esther began grinding against me, driving my dick deeper into her. Those vaginal muscles of hers gripped my dick real hard, and it didn’t take long for me to cum. Hot damn, Esther’s ass is all that and then some!
“Hey, brother, you going to be long in there?” came a loud masculine voice, and my eyes snapped open. Damn it, I have a nasty tendency to daydream. I’ve got to stop it, seriously. It took me a moment to remember where I was. In the men’s washroom. In the toilet stall. In the basement of the church. Damn. I mumbled something and zipped up, then hurried out of there…after washing my hands, of course. I went upstairs, and sat down.
The pastor, a tall older black gentleman who had been at this church for a very long time, way past his mandate, began to preach. I looked around and saw friends I hadn’t seen in a very long time. I was actually happy to see them. I saw Esther in that little office of hers, and smiled at her, but she ignored me. When the collection plate came, I dropped twenty bucks in there, plus another ten, and then waited a few minutes before heading downstairs.
As I took the steps two at a time, people looked at me. I have respect for all religions and even though I’m a Haitian Muslim, I’ll always hold the Haitian Adventist Church in high esteem. Even if a lot of the locals don’t like me. Finally, I stepped out. It was raining but I didn’t care. I hurried back to the Rideau Center, and went upstairs. I caught a 95 bus going to Barrhaven. Cool. I’ve got work in a little over an hour, you see. Time to go. Have a nice day, folks.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32