In the series of tall buildings that line Maharjalele Street in Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, Monday morning dawned with a touch of cold from the nearby forest. The brisk wind matched the bustling atmosphere of the city, as the residents began their day with energy and enthusiasm.

As I observed, cars zipped down the road while many others navigated the streets on foot. The city’s diverse population showcased a beautiful array of clothing styles. Women wore shirts and skirts made of fabric similar to dresses, often paired with short hijabs that covered their chests. Some opted for shirts and pants, while others wore hijabs or headscarves. The young girls and boys wore shorts that reached their thighs, and men often donned shirts, pants, and hats in various colors, reminiscent of Pakistani attire. 

Most of the people were of shorter stature, with fair skin, small noses, and dark, expressive eyes. Long, soft black hair was a common feature among them. While the majority followed Islam, there was still a degree of religious diversity, with very few practicing other faiths. It appeared that, while Islamic customs were respected, individuals interpreted and practiced their religion in their own unique ways.

There were also descendants of black Indians who had once been slaves but were now citizens of the country and practiced Hinduism. The currency in use was the Ringgit, which held substantial value, possibly more than the Saudi Riyal if compared to the Naira.

Umaimah Bello, a striking young woman of no more than twenty-five, possessed radiant black skin. Her beauty stood out even among the fair-skinned individuals. She was standing on the balcony of her tenth-floor apartment, basking in the morning sunlight and sipping on a refreshing glass of orange juice with a hint of lemon.

As she gazed down at the street below, she noticed the contrasting moods of the people. Some appeared joyful and carefree, while others seemed burdened by the weight of their responsibilities. Her heart swelled with empathy, especially when she thought of her Fulani family back in the rural areas, tending to their cattle.

She whispered a prayer, “God, please help my homeland, Nigeria, to prosper like Malaysia.”

Glancing at the neighboring apartment building, she noticed a man on his balcony. He had a habit of watching her, which always made her uneasy. Today, as he continued to gaze at her, Umaimah decided she had had enough.

She took a determined stride back into her apartment, feeling frustrated by his relentless attention, especially after seeing him peering at her from his balcony. As she reached her living room, she caught sight of her young daughter wearing a nightgown, her hair uncovered. She smiled, preparing to greet her before returning inside.

The man, seemingly infatuated, had not moved from his spot. Umaimah felt it was time to assert her boundaries and maintain her dignity by not allowing his invasive gaze to dictate her movements any longer.

He was a tall, handsome man with a slightly plump build, fair skin, and a well-proportioned nose and deep-set eyes. His frequent smiles showcased a row of pristine white teeth. To him, cleanliness was paramount, evident in his well-kept hair and beard, which always seemed to shine. His cologne was so fragrant that its scent wafted up to her floor, announcing his presence even before she heard his footsteps.

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