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Monday, 26 March 2012

Dialogues of Divisibility


I have started saying things like, ‘I believe that I am the best person for this position because I believe in the future of America’s next generation!’ Huh – when did it come to this? This is not a bad thing. I am only wondering whether I am being patriotic or merely on a desperate quest for a job.

As I sit on the Amtrak which I thought I would not do again in a very long time, I find it rather cozy. The lounge area and the wide view windows. I could do anything to set this service up in Uganda. A train system that runs all-round the country with large windows in the lounge area where Ugandans can see their own picture risqué country. This is to die for! The things I plan to do. I have been trying to connect to the internet on the Amtrak but have failed. No idea what’s going on yet all the windows have little sticker things saying, ‘Your seat is now a hotspot. Internet on this train.’ I just asked an attendant why I could not connect to the internet and she was sorry that there is no Wi-Fi on the train. Amtrak please take off those little stickers and they are written in Capital letters for crying out loud!
Minot, North Dakota is one of those places that make me feel like Travyon Martin. I have been on the train for the past thirty eight hours. So while we are being encouraged to go out for some air which I am sure my face will appreciate I prefer to stay here and watch from the window like a scared journalist.  I see a black man walking out of the train. He lives here. He has some nerve am thinking to myself. Thing is I just do not want to put my shoes on.  I guess you know am struggling to introduce the whole racist talk that I often avoid.  Being in America feels like a continuation to the discourse of my blackness. I have just recently read Baratunde’s ‘How to be black’ and its one hilarious piece of work. Some things cut right to the core. I found every page of it extremely funny and yet as deep as deep gets on black issues.

 In Egypt everyday someone tells me what I forget while in my sleep. I wake up every morning to the reminder that I am black. They even have a range of names for me. Yet there has never been one day that I have wished I were anything else. In fact, my complexion takes first place for the best things on my body. In America it’s the same thing. The only difference is in America the methodology differs. One good thing is sometimes I get a day or two off from the reminder. When I am playing it safe, I can even get a week off.  Mind you, I used to be one to despise people who talked about how racist others were. I always thought it was one of those things you can ignore and just live life. As I grow up and travel more, the color of my skin sometimes not always draws some negative attention and even though it does not baffle me anymore. It sure does irritate me. This is why I find myself time and again cursing in my head.  I never understood why people curse until some things like racial prejudice did my head in.



Meanwhile, a Namibian friend thinks we (she and I) are prejudiced because we prefer black men to white men.  She did not really say it like this. We were watching ‘Something New’ for the nth time and you know that scene where Brain asks Kenya, ‘So I take it you do not do white guys?’ and she answers, ‘it’s not prejudice, I just happen to prefer black men.’ Brain: ‘Well it’s your preference to be prejudiced.’  So Namibia friend asks, ‘Why do I feel like he is speaking to us?’ I smile. A lesson I learned early in life. A smile can answer a question. Most often the one asking the question does not even bother to ask again because to them the smile confirms their answer. For me, a smile just says: Well you can say what you like. My preference is my preference. No one should judge me if I end up meeting a white soul mate. I did not ever say I would ‘never.’ I just hope for me the list works what it did not for Kenya.

Have you been around people that trash the place of their birth? Well this might only be understood by immigrants. When I was in a certain country in Europe, I had no choice but to spend time with a group of people I had unfortunately become related to by marriage. Bam! North Dakota does have some beautiful spots!  So these people would trash the country of their birth every time they were together or even just alone with me. Too much negative energy was flowing in the place that I appreciated the skill I have of closing up and retreating to my inner place. Oh the joys of being different. I have always had a very short attention span. It gets worse when my mind pre-determines that a conversation is nonsensical before it even happens. Sometimes I must admit it just happens. I have never been good at small talk. Not that I am even good at long deep talks. I prefer when everything is just kept short and simple except for sex of course. This is where I express everything I never really say. So, this group of people would speak of their country with such contempt in comparison to this industrialized country of Europe. I like to get down to the root of things. For one the EU country is close to ageless, has never been colonized but instead colonized several others. How would Uganda being a baby be as mature as its own mother?  I like to think every country goes through development stages and Uganda’s level of maturity is not their problem. I have met several people since then who speak of their home country with as much disdain. The summation of my analysis begs me to determine that the state of the country is not our problem.

A good solution would be to embrace the receiving country and forget where one came from. After all the majority of people on earth are immigrants of one sort or another. The more time we spend time expressing notions of contempt towards what we cannot change, we create an atmosphere of negative energy which truth be told that kind of energy is the most unattractive thing in any human being. You probably think am gone all Kabbalistic with this jargon. I cringe when am around negative people. My first reaction is to run. The older I get I become more careful about the people I hang around and what I can take and cannot take. My friend’s dad has been telling me how the older people get the more conscious they become of their health. So maybe am just watching my mind health too. Even though he still thinks am so young. I need to stay around him more.  Here is what I think the problem is. My fellow immigrants who only have nothing good to say about home:  settle down and decide whether we want to embrace our new place or live in the past.  We could also try changing the things we spend time complaining about.  Am sure you must be wondering how racism and non- nationalism can be in the same discourse. I told you, I have a short attention span so I try to link topics of choice, sometimes they are similar and sometimes they are similar to me alone. However I believe that these two topics are both superficial. Man-made dialogues of divisibility.

My take is that as long as we are in this world we shall all have preferences.  A mighty strong preference can come across as racism. Negativity about a place or person is usually more about the fact that we have never accepted who we really are or even know who we are. When we know who we really are who other people are is not an issue. We know ourselves too well that others cease to be a threat to our peace. When we know who we really are we are at peace with others and work at being the best we can be.

I’ll just go ahead and tell you one of the main three reasons I prefer to end up with a black man:  I want to have black babies with kinky curly/ coiled up hair like mine and do better things with it than I have done with mine. My mother always cut our hair down short as children, when I asked her recently why she did this. She said she did not know what to do with our hair. So I grew up, doing everything different to my hair. I made cuts, bobs, French cuts, tonged it, straight permed it, waved it, dreadlocked it, braided it, twisted it and keratin treated it the list is endless. Suffice it to say that my hair history is somewhat juicy especially when you take a look at my photo album.  Today I am thirty three and have finally learned what to do with it to make it healthy and natural. I have gone all Napptural and its all simple and sweet. So y’all should understand when Maya Angelou says, ‘When you know better you do better.’ This is why I want to have children with hair just like mine. Kind of like an experiment. And the black man can contribute to this mission. As opposed to being something superficial this is something practical I daresay!

I have just been informed that my friend’s mother has four dates lined up for me in the next couple of weeks. Two whites and two blacks. A varied pool. Am I excited?