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.
But now, it has become only a drive-in shop, and I sat in my Jeep, waiting for the young woman to take my order.
“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.