"Where am I?" I asked, more to get him to speak than from any hope that he would really answer the question and I could tell Neeka where to send the c...ps.He said nothing. He went over to the table and opened a box and reached inside. he came over to me and held something up in front of my face. It looked like a big ring with straps on it."Open your mouth," he said. His voice was soft and high-pitched. It didn't go at all with the leather and the studs."Why?" I asked, trying to keep him. A six-foot-tall, lean and athletic, ruggedly good-looking brother of Jamaican descent who studies criminal justice at the University of Ottawa. I was walking through the Rideau Center and stopped to buy some food at the newly renovated food court downstairs by the escalators when a fine-looking, well-dressed brother sat at the table near mine, and smiled at me. Hello beautiful, he said, nodding at me while sipping on a Pepsi. I looked the brother up and down. Definitely not Somali, I thought,. More

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