One summer night...
My sister Adele and I went to the Afro Caribean 'Club Kilimanjaro'. The place was very crowded with tons of African and Caribbean immigrants moving their bodies to the hynotic music...
My sister immediately got asked to dance by a short little Jamaican guy in a red suit. I went to the bathroom to check my hair and makeup. The restroom was so humid ... and heavily crammed with women arguing and chatting loudly in patois and french.
I left and went back out near the dance floor. I decided to go searching for my sister ... someone grabbed my arm firmly. I turned around to see a very tall ... slender, dark African man.
He was absolutely beautiful...
I was so very intrigued by his unique fine features, and his thick African accent as he said, "Hi, I am Ebrima Jeng. Dance with me."
Something from deep inside me could not resist this man.
I danced with him to a song by Dawn Penn.
His body and mine moved together in a perfect rhythm...
He moved with such ease and sensuality.
"What is your name?" he asked.
I could barely hear his voice...
"I think you asked me what my name is? The music is so noisy. I'm Helene" I said loudly.
He grabbed my hand and quickly led me outside to the patio with its black iron tables, and cool wind breezes. We sat there beneath the tall street lamps ... it was so quiet...
I could get a better view of his face ... it was more beautiful than it was inside the dim lit club.
His face was such a smooth and unblemished deep blue/black chocolate ... and his lips were full and sensual.
His hair was cut extremely short and neat, which accentuated his face even more.
His eyes were dark slanted almonds ... hmmmm, and he smelled soooo clean and crisp!
"Helene ... lovely name. Your eyes ... wow! so BEAUTIFUL! They are green?" he asked me.
"Thank you. I like your name ... its very unique! Well a lot of people think my eyes look plain green, but they are actually hazel green. I think you have really pretty eyes too. I like the shape of them," I smiled.
He took my hand and asked me, "Do you have boyfriend?"
"Well, yes" my voice sorta trailed off. I wanted to be honest, but I didn't really want to discuss it. I knew this was wrong, being alone with him and being so attracted...
Why was I doing this? I had a boyfriend, and this was considered cheating in our relationship agreement. Before he left the United States, I promised myself to him.
But something about this man captivated me so much. I couldn't understand what it was. My mother was a creole ... so yes! I had some black blood in my ancestry and I didn't buy into any stupid myths and stereotypes ... But was it really true what they said about black men? I'd never been with one before ... I wondered about that myth ... about how big they say it really is and...
"How old are you," I asked.
"I'm 25" he said.
He was three years younger than me...
"So, do you have boyfriend?" he said again.
"Well ... yes I do" I answered him.
We sat for minute, very quiet.
"I had better go and search for my little sister," I said.
"I will help you," he said politely.
I was so impressed by his sweet offer to help me.
We searched and searched around and could not find her. I was almost in tears, and he handed me his cell phone "Why don't you call your mother and tell her what happened. I am sure she will be worried," he suggested.
"Thank you," I said tearfully.
I called mom and told her what happened. She told me not to worry, that my sister has a mind of her own.
She was right...
I found out much later that she decided to meet up with two of her college friends.
"Why don't we go to another place?" he suggested.
We ended up going to the Bombay for drinks ... we walked into the indoor glass garden and smoked some medicinal herb. Everyone was smoking herb and dropping acid. As we sat down near the fountain we began talking and laughing for hours ... until he kissed my lips...
His kisses felt perfect ... I savored them...
"Please kiss me again Ebrima," I breathed.
We kissed and kissed like forever began right there. oh it felt so wonderful, the way his lips pressed against mine. I didn't want for it end.
"We had better stop, otherwise it will lead to something else, " Ebrima politely warned me.
"Yes, you're right," I said feeling so guilty.
He drove me to my apartment parking lot. We sat in the car as he handed me a piece of paper with his address and telephone number.
"Call me," he said.
"I will, thank you for a wonderful evening," I smiled happily.
I went inside my apartment feeling dizzy and speechless...
Ebrima and I talked on the phone the next couple of days...
Then he asked me on the telephone, "Will you come and see me? I'd really like to cook for you."
He was staying in a hotel suite on the east side of town.
I stood at his door, very reluctant to knock. I was feeling so nervous. I finally mustered up the courage to very lightly knock. He opened the door immediately.
"Hi, come in please," he said.
I walked inside and he gestured for me to sit on the sofa. I sat down as he went back into the small, compact kitchen. He was cooking at the stove and going in and out of the refrigerator. He came back with a glass of juice for me.
"Thank you," I smiled at him.
"You are welcome," Ebrima replied.
We sat down to breakfast and talked about our backgrounds and families.
"I lived in London for many years but I am from Gambia," he said. He went on about the traditions of Gambian culture.
His accent had no hint of British influence, it sounded thick and very African. He told me how some people there still practice voodoo, and some are devout Christians. He told me that he practiced voodoo sometimes before to help him win many many soccer games back in Gambia. We both laughed and laughed at some of his funny stories.
"And you are from where? You are mixed girl? Your skin is very bright yellow! Almost like white lady," he said, looking very hard at me.
"My father is 100% Irish and my mother is creole, from New Orleans," I said. He softly ran his fingers through my honey blonde hair, "Oh, like some Senegalese ... they are mixed like this with Portuguese or French. You have beautiful hair and face," he said to me.
"Thank you," I could feel myself blushing.
He told me of how there are women of mixed races in Gambia too and how he found them attractive. I could not get over how good-looking he was ... like a work of art.
The food was very good. It was vegetables and egg mixed with potatoes, pork and rice. Something about the spices made it too irresistible to stop eating.
"You are such an excellent cook," I said.
"Thank you," he smiled.
Somehow we got back on the subject of voodoo again. I told him how a lot of people back home in New Orleans practiced it ... but I didn't buy into it. I told him that I've always had mixed feelings about voodoo.
He started telling me a story of an old woman in his village who cooked for a handsome young man ... and she put voodoo in the food. The young man became found himself following the old woman around for many days and days in a complete trance, unable to stop it.
He said that it is very common for some people without a mate, to put voodoo in the food. The person that eats the food with the voodoo will be under a spell.
I was shocked and such a bizarre story, but found myself continuing to eat.
Suddenly, I became so sleepy and dizzy.
"Would you like to lie down? Are you okay?" he asked politely.