    
Mrs_hart
Veteran Poster
Username: Mrs_hart
Post Number: 56
Registered: 01-2006
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Wednesday, January 11, 2006 - 03:41 pm: | 
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My life, literally, became locked away from me and only Osama possessed the key. He installed me in one of the most beautiful and prestigious getaways in all of North Africa--the famed La Maison Arabe of Medina--the breathtaking walled city of the ancient ruins of Marrakech. It’s actually a Moorish estate (a bed and breakfast back then) hidden at the end of a secret road that leads into the central abdomen of the Medina’s fortess. I cannot describe it to you other than to say that I have never lived anywhere more heartstoppingly grand and that one must see it to believe it (*Boof does go on to describe it in much detail later on). It is guaranteed to take your breath away.
On moving in, I was told that Winston Churchill had once occupied the room that I was to live in and that other people like Princess Diana, Mick Jagger, Anwar Sadat and Denmark’s Queen Ingrid had either dined or slept on the premises or both.
Osama and I lived there at the same time that Prince Fabrizio Ruspoli was renovating and upgrading the place into the more Hotel-like property that it has become today. I think his partner was a man named Philippe Kluzelle and I remember them to be completely wonderful, friendly people--totally welcoming and a teensy bit curious about who I was, because I had arrived without Osama and lived there quite a few days by myself (a kitchen worker thought that I must be Whoopi Goldberg, while another said Naomi Campbell). Still, no one asked me any questions--and when Osama finally arrived, no one asked him any embarrassing questions either.
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On Fridays, Osama, his gang and I (about ten of us) would go to some mountainous or forested location and hunt for quail, snipe, teal duck and wild boar, sometimes camping out, or--whenever we went deep sea fishing, which was something Osama and I were both pros at, we’d stay at the Doumss hotel in Dakhla, and Osama would eat at the Samarkand Restaurant and just stare out at the ocean for hours and hours. Dakhla is near a military base and most of the women in that town are prostitutes--they sit painted in the windows and even in that Muslim country, everyone knew and accepted that it was a prostitute town--so Osama’s men would forage the local women and have a good time. But it was the hunting that Somi loved best, and he loved to be in the midst of old oaks, or him and his men making tea by camp fire and praying out in the open under the blue blue skies before going out to bag snipe (a kind of water bird) along the “oueds” (rivers)--and snipe was Osama’s favorite, because he said he loved the challenge they gave even the best hunter.
Osama very rarely ever ate meat--but after I literally conquered his men with my delicious snipe recipe, he’d have a little of that. My secret was one that Mommysweet had taught me as a little girl--using the cheese from water buffalo milk (if you can get it) in place of cow or goat’s milk cheese. They all taste different, the goat’s milk being the sweetest, but the water buffalo cheese is the best for cooking, because it traps in the flavors. So I’d take the birds (they look like killdeer only they have an orange spot cover on the back) and I’d get them all plucked and greased with palm oil (stuffing them with chopped onion, garlic, a few salted pond rocks and couscous) and then wrap them in very thin shards of Robiola cheese (made from the Water Buffalo milk), thin slices of Prosciutto and cabbage leaves, all tied up with string. Of course, you season your layers to taste. But it was with that recipe that Bin Laden’s men warmed up to me a little. They just adored my cabbage baked cheese snipe with sugar-water porridge.
It got to where I really looked forward to my Friday hunting trips with Osama and the men. That part was fun.
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.....Er....FUN?
You say that you are from Africa. That Arabs killed your parents right before your eyes. That you were kidnapped and raped by a TERRORIST.
You say that you have been horribly disfigured vaginally, that female flesh has been cut away only leaving you with a small hole from which to urinate and pass menstrual fluid.
You say that sex is horribly painful, and that this man liked being rough and causing pain for you sexually.
.....And yet your heart and soul were hurting because.....HE DIDN'T LIKE YOUR HAIR?!!!!!!!
(page 189)
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