People are animals. They fcuk, pray, and make bombs.
The Dinka women of Sudan say the devil is the most beautiful man you will ever lay your eyes on. I never took these words seriously until I encountered my now infamous ex-lover, Osama bin Laden.
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The Osama Bin Laden that I knew in 1996 Morocco was a painfully soft spoken, religiously driven but politically and psychologically astute psychotic gangbanger, a chronic pot-smoker whose favorite foods were spinach yogurt and watermelon, and whose greatest joys were sex (`not the kind one has with his wife`, he used to tease as he grabbed me), hunting Snipe-duck and fishing (which we did every Friday), writing poetry beside the virgin pond at La Maison Arabe and the professional horse breeding he did with his best friend Isam al Turabi in Sudan.
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Prayer to Osama was serious and beloved labor, as he did it on Tuesdays and Thursdays from sun up to sun down, and though I had no idea in those days that he was a terrorist (he was not famous back then), I was indeed privy to his financial bail-outs of the Sudanese government and had witnessed him break into tears, on more than one occasion, after ordering someone to be killed but make no mistake, though I speak objectively about Osama I saw him as the devil and I loathed and pitied him completely but what could I do about it all?
There is no one in this world to protect African women.
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I had been actress Naima Kitar back then, and had been taken by Osama and his men at a restaurant in Marrakech, raped the first night by Osama, moved from my hotel and installed in the Winston Churchill room at La Maison Arabe, which was an estate located inside an ancient fortress in the Medina that had only one secret road leading out (Bad Doukkala), and within two months, out of fear for my life, I was calling Osama `Somi` and catering to his every whim. For that cooperation, I lived in undeniable luxury (Osama sent me shopping in Milan), was given a white a maid, and though monitored by Osama`s guards?I was also the person who supervised them along with the rest of Osama`s staff while he was away in Afghanistan, Sudan or Ethiopia.
Whether I`m right or wrong, I never, at any time, felt like a `sex slave`.
I refuse to be called one.
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What I felt was that I was very cunning and practical in my manipulation of Osama, and that because of my personal will and sexual `etiquette`, we were, on an animalistic level equals. I felt that I took my beatings well and that I challenged him as a poet his work ultimately surpassing my own and of course, one of Osama`s chief complaints about me was that I strived to be Alice Walker when what he really dreamed of was Nefertiti, but alas, I survived and I am alive, no matter what I had to endure, and unlike Osama`s wives and other mistresses, I became an entity unto myself. I left the Arab world and became KOLA BOOF, an activist, an internationally published novelist and poet and a mother.
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It`s no wonder that bestselling author Kola Boof is now openly referred to as `Sudan`s LEAST favorite daughter`. In August of 2002. Arab Muslim gunmen attempted to kill Boof outside Los Angeles but found themselves on the run when Kola Boof pulled out her own gun and shot back at them.
And on September 15th, 2002, Sudan`s Arab Muslim government attempted to discredit Boof by publicly disowning her via a Sudanese diplomat, Gamal Ibrahim, who wrote a scathing, hateful article in London`s top daily Arabic newspaper, `Alsharq Al-awsat` in which he called Boof a traitor, a prostitute for America and a mentally unstable liar attempting to make money off of Sudan`s 20 year old war AND her bare naked breasts, which she proudly displays on the back of her book covers. On Sept. 26th, word came from London that Sudan`s government had declared `fatwa` on the writer--which is an Islamic contract for assassination.
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April 9th, 2003 at the UNITED NATIONS in Switzerland, an investigative human rights report named Kola Boof as one of several Sudanese writers-journalists to have been ordered `fatwa beheading`
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