Now, please watch this one-minute clip after reading my short note.
This morning I went to my usual coffee shop, not too far from my house in Austin, Texas.
It was my favorite hangout before the outbreak of the Covid.
“Tall coffee and a banana nut bread warmed,” I told her.
“Sure,” she said. “That will be five dollars and seventy cents.”
She wore a facemask, so I was not able to read her.
But, since I was sitting in my car, I did not wear my facemask.
In a couple of minutes, she was back with my order. She stretched out her tiny electronic reader and I slid my credit card into it.
Then she said, “I like your glasses.”
“Thank you,” I responded.
“And your beard looks so sexy,” she continued.
“It’s too kind of you,” I replied.
“I have been watching you all these weeks you’ve been coming here,” she remarked. “Do you mind my asking you where you are from?”
This question again. I became ashamed.
Would I have to confess I’m from Nigeria!
“I am Yoruba,” I said.
“Where is that?” she wanted to know.
“Somewhere in West Africa,” I informed her.
“I’ve never been to Africa,” she explained, “but one day I’d like to visit.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” I explained.
“When next are you going to Yoruba?” She asked.
“Probably next summer,” I said.
“If I save up enough money,” she sighed, “I’d like to go too. Have a great day, and enjoy your coffee.”
Darn! I said to myself, quietly.
Now watch the video and see why I hesitated to mention that I’m from Nigeria.
Where else does a soldier sit a harmless woman down and flog her with a horsewhip in broad daylight, and others watch what is happening without saying anything?
Watch it, please.
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