Maybe it is High Standard Downcast



Pot A : You primitive, stinking,black monkey.
Pot B : Did you just call me black you illiterate baboon?

This dialogue in my head precipitated a monologue kinda querrel. “who has the mandate to call the other black? I mean! whose blacker than who?”

The queue was not unbearably long, so I sat and waited for my turn. Infront of me was a preety young lady. Well built, with all the curves and edges, a bit taller than me with very long blackhorse hair. The line between she and I is the skin colour.

It was her turn, she wanted to see the director. I heard because I was not as far from her. The lady at the counter summoned a certain young man from inside and asked him to take the lady to see the School Director. I was next on line. For some reason I had been sent to the see my School Co-ordinator. I didn’t know where his/her office was. It was my first day at the University. That explains it. “M6 floor, second door on your right.” She said. She didn’t even turn her chin up as she was supposedly giving directions. At this time I was burning with rage and I could feel a thin sweat forming on my brow. Not because she didn’t look at me, not even because It was my first day here and only had a slight clue of where M6 could be, but because the lady before me got special kind of attention. Special not because she’s some sort of a manager here. Of course not. Even a blind one could tell she was as much a first-timer. A new student, a fresha. Why all that speciallity then? Because she was white? But of course. Her being white makes her everything plausible over mine in my own country. Is this some kind of racism? Black against black.

I walked away angrily.
I was furious – for lack of a better word to explain my emotional state. I wanted to go back and smash the woman’s face, poke her eyes out, drag her down by her artificial hair then slum the door on her face. She just looked down on me, and why? Because I’m black? Like her I mean.

I’ve not been to any White Nation, but I doubt blacks experience the same kind of special treatment. If they do, maybe the kind of throwing a banana at us because we look no better than hungry monkeys. It’s not so long ago they had a zoo for the black man. Some of us seem to have forgotten that too soon. The white man would pay a few coins to checkin like we do at Animal Orphanage. I felt a sharp pain cut through my spine. For a while I hated that receptionist. Who taught her the “how to give directions” part? The building has staircases on either side, so which of my right did she mean? I got even more angry at this point.

Just so you know, I have nothing up my sleeves against the Whites; sometimes in my dreams I wish I were born white. I would ride on one too many, if wishes were horses. After all they don’t demand for this special treatment.
But have a whole load of grudge and bitterness against any black that degrades, discriminates a fellow black because they are black. There’s a special place in hell for you. Never been there but I guarantee you it is there.

Are we still in neo-colonialism?
I think so.

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