Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 78

Episode 4 years ago

Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 78

“I’m not taking anything personal. I’m just revealing a truth. We’re Canadians in Nigeria. There is no way we can be seen like Nigerians. It’s either people look at us as aliens or they would just want to sneer and ask with a pretentious smile, ‘What are you doing in my country? You have a better one. You should be there.’ The only reason a black man is ever going to like you is because you’re white, and when I mean like, I don’t mean the kind that could lead to friendship, but a showy kind to gain something from you, something as worthless as the pride they place in having acquaintance with a foreigner.”
“You’re speaking from your own view.”
“No dad,” she said. “Everyone loves his skin more than the other. The world is full of a bunch of racists. No one is neutral. A white can’t be like everyone else in a black country. The only difference between we and them is that we whites are only privileged to exercise this thing you call racism.”
“You’re wrong, hon.”
“I’m not. How many black men would want to wed a white woman that isn’t a moneybag? It doesn’t happen because they can’t pretend to bear that false likeness for long, and believe me they won’t tell you. They say white women are pompous, impudent, territorial, name all sorts of words. Why? Because the women aren’t blacks. I hear it from people, from classmates and schoolmates.” She rose. “I should go continue with my novel.”
As she eased into the sitting room, a resentment of herself swept through her, her own voice telling her she was only a bloody racist in the search of a shield to defend herself; she was only someone looking for something to hate, or merely looking for an explanation for some things, and willing to accept any explanation that flings into her head, even the most abstract as racism. She stretched on the sofa and continued with her “Tick, Tick.”


“It’s everywhere, even in Canada,” her dad said from the dining. “Everyone surely loves his skin than the other. Or I should say majority because I’m an exception. I don’t see anything wrong in getting married to a black lady.”
“There are no exceptions.” She crossed legs and focused on her book, if that would make her dad quiet.