I started blogging a few years ago as a way to record my ideas and thoughts on different topics, events or people in my life. Needless to say, I am giving the 60-year-old version of me something to look back to by documenting my life and thoughts at a given point in time(Fingers crossed I actually get to be 60).
Throughout life, I have crossed paths with great individuals that inspired me with their ideas or how they lived their lives. Over the last 10 or so years, Jack R. Edmonds has been one of them. Although he is unaware of this as we haven't had an official mentor-mentee relationship, Jack has been a joy to talk to and has contributed a lot towards my view of the world. He is a down to earth retired professor. I have been planning to blog about him and his African art for a while now. But first let me introduce you to all the Edmonds, my Canadian family. |
| right to left:Athena, Alex, Jack, Kathie |
How We Met
I befriended Alex when I was living on residence in my first year of university. I then met Jack and the rests of the Edmonds through Alex. Alex and I lived in the same residence, Whitney Hall. We had a common room for casual hang-out when not in class. It had a piano and nice couches. One evening, I passed by the common room while heading to my room and heard the sound of an African drum. Out of curiosity and being African, I peeped to see where the sound came from. I found Alex and Athena playing the drums, I proceeded to ask the obvious questions, how they became good drummers and where they got their African drums from - this side of the Atlantic. We conversed for a couple minutes.
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| Gifts opening |
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| Alex and I after Afrofest |
African Art
Maybe what connects me the most with the Edmonds is our interest in African art and culture. I must say upfront that I am not the most knowledgeable person in the world when it comes to African art or music, but I have great respect for the many ways Sub-Saharan African communities express their artistic identity. I enjoy seeing people showing interest in this type of culturally epithets
Their interest and understanding of African art and culture warmed my heart from the first day. This understanding extends to nuances between regional and tribal art or music. My Christmas gift was a set of CDs of traditional Sub-Saharan African music. On and we watched black Orpheus on my first night in the Edmonds' house. I didn't know much about the underlying Greek legend story but the themes in the movie and the characters were relevant to me. This movie choice suggested a remarkable socio-cultural awareness from the Edmonds. I sensed a need to not make me feel out of place. Meeting people that understood Africa was a very welcomed discovery to me because the average North American knows little about Africa, if any. In fact, a big chunk of the population assume Africa is a country. A lot more know Sub Saharan Africa only as a safari jungle populated with poverty stricken natives - nothing interesting to see. From my observation this limited attention to Africa stems from Africa's relatively little technological advancement. A patronizing attitude towards Africa is also propagated by the numerous NGO adds showing needy African children in sympathy-inducing conditions. Overall condescending Western Media coverage of Africa doesn't help as well. So with this prevailing general negative attitudes, I am happy when I find people that understand and appreciate African art and music. They surely understand there is a lot more to live than driving fansy cars and own 100 inch TVs (do those exist?). The average poor third world resident isn't depressed about their relative lack of material things. Wealthy is relative. I have seen many people satisfied with their lifes if even if they are far from rich. If anything, social standing, dignity and having a sense of belonging in one's social group count more than the amount of widgets someone owns.
Being a born and raised African, the window through which I view Africa is different from that of a North American. It is a massive continent with vibrant cultures and many stories - good and bad. There are stories on poverty but there are also stories of progress. I studied African history taught by African teachers. I therefore view Africa from an Afrocentric point of view in relation to the rest of the world. This general understanding of sub-Saharan Africa makes me content, if not proud, of what Africa has to offer. I therefore liked the Edmonds for their interest in African.
There are a few people in the world that I feel free to speak my mind around. Jack is one of them. Jack gained my trust from the very start. Like average humans, I like people who like me and ignore people who show indifference towards me. When we first met, I introduced myself to Jack as John as I always do with people who don't share my culture. Jack wasn't satisfied. He wanted more. He asked for a name that my parents use. I said my full family name and the meaning of each one. This indicated to me that Jack wasn't interested in a superficial relationship where he only knew me by one generic name and nothing more. He wanted a deeper understanding of who I was as a person, my identity and culture. From there on wards, we would discuss life and related topics. Even views on politics, mostly related to Africa and the world. Jack showed a lot of interest in my well being and how I was coping with culture shock in Canada. He understood that I needed strong social ties to be happy and grow as a person here. He was keen to see me get into a relationship and always ask if I am seeing anyone. Unfortunately I haven't heard so much success in the dating department so there is always little to report about my dating life. At one point during one of Alex's birthday celebrations, he talked one of the girls in attendance into dating me. This gesture touched me a lot. Although unsuccessful, it really revealed he was a man that had my best interests in mind and was looking out for my social well being. I don't trust people enough to share personal struggles or wins like I do with the Edmonds. He clearly understood that in order for me to really feel like I belong here, I needed strong social relationships, love being one of them.
Authenticity and Integrity
Jack is the type of person who doesn't shy away from sharing his true opinions even if the topic at hand is controversial. No subject is off the table with Jack. I am not very fond of political correctness so I connect with Jack really well. It is very rare to meet such kind of a person in our increasingly liberal and superficial world. It is easier for me to build trust with someone if I know where they stand on things, if I can gauge their true opinions on issues. At work and school, I have observed 2 value systems. What people and institutions project to the world and what they really think and is reflected by their actions. More people need to be honest in their interactions. Superficial kindness is a big turnoff as it is a waste of every body's time.
Consistensy, Interest & Enthusiasm
I, like the average Joe, loves it when people care about what I think. But don't we all like mentors who listen to our stories and take our ideas into consideration? Jack is down to earth in this regard and solicits your thoughts on things and why you think the way you do. I am a fairly introverted person so I keep to myself most of the time. Jack is one of a few people I give a warm embrace. His energy and enthusiasm are contagious, at least towards me. His sincere interest in me and my culture enables me to open up and share my world views without holding back. I am usually careful with my words around people tend to tell me what they think I need hear. This is not the case with Jack. Jack's beliefs are reflected in his interactions. At school and at work, I have met people whose opinions change according to who they are talking to. They will customize their answers to align with your own thoughts and views. I find it hard opening up to such people since I am vulnerable to manipulation. This people pass for 'kind' and 'nice' most of the time because they project an image and say things they don't necessarily believe in. Coming from a culture where people say what they really think and do what they say, I learned very early on after moving to Toronto that friendly people aren't necessarily your friends. I am not an overly negative person, but I have picked up an healthy amount of cynicism over the years and became very cautious when talking and dealing with people from all walks of life.I admire Jack's consistency. His opinions and personal brand are reiterated over and over again in his daily life. I have a good sense of what Jack's belief system and can predict what his opinion on an issue will be before he says it. An example of of Jack's interesting take is that Kim Jong Un is a good leader. He has his people's best interest in mind and stock piling nuclear weapons without using them is tactically good for North Korea. Having some kind physical or economic power is necessary to sit on the big table with the big boys discussing global treaties. As an African, this is a great observation. I can see the world with Western eyes and also see things from a third world point of view. The key thing at play here is power. You need a balance of power for sustainable peace and stability. Every form of governance has its pros and cons and western way of bundling non democratic countries together as pure evil is problematic. Whoever has more power gets to set what is morally acceptable. It is therefore good to have the power to administer justice. Begging for justice from a stronger opponent is futile as Martin Luther King jr realized in his famous rhetoric, a Letter from a Birmingham Jail. I am a big fan of the incentive system, when it comes to controlling human behavior. People won't do the right when you have no stick to punish them with or a carrot for reward.
More pictures
The rare move - Canada to Benin.
Living in a diverse city like Toronto has many upsides,
one of them is meeting amazing people with interesting backgrounds from all
over the world. Over many years of connecting with people with complex identities, I have had to relearn what makes a person a person - the intangible pieces that form one's identity, culture, brand, personality and much more. The concept of identity is very fascinating. I have met people who are very proud and passionate about places they barely knew physically. I have learnt how a sense of identity influences how we align ourselves socio-culturally, the careers we pursue and even the mundane weekly hobbies we pick up. It was not until I moved to North America that I began to notice how culture and identity influence how we see ourselves as individuals in a diverse group and who we become as adults. I didn’t make much of my identity and culture. My names and the fact that I could count many generations of my grandfathers were things I just happen to have. I have personally had to update my identity – with
some help from Google. It turned out there was a new world of black guy
stereotypes that I was suppose to know and be proud of or be offended about, but
didn’t...
I have been thinking deeply about this concept of identity and how it manifests itself in decisions that people make daily to improve their lives. In an effort to have happy lives, a few years after finishing school, we make decisions that determine what our lives will be for the next 50 or so years. So what really makes someone happy with their lives? Why do we choose to live in a given location when we could easily live somewhere else? I have read somewhere that a great deal of human happiness is derived from having strong social ties. A strong sense of belonging and unconditional acceptance in one’s desired social group. These go a long way towards making someone happy than material things. One person inspired me to blog about this topic.
I have been thinking deeply about this concept of identity and how it manifests itself in decisions that people make daily to improve their lives. In an effort to have happy lives, a few years after finishing school, we make decisions that determine what our lives will be for the next 50 or so years. So what really makes someone happy with their lives? Why do we choose to live in a given location when we could easily live somewhere else? I have read somewhere that a great deal of human happiness is derived from having strong social ties. A strong sense of belonging and unconditional acceptance in one’s desired social group. These go a long way towards making someone happy than material things. One person inspired me to blog about this topic.
In 2014, a Grenadian-Canadian friend of mine, Bàbá Délé, moved to Benin, much to the bedazzlement of the locals. He settled in Cotonou,
immersed himself into the local community and started learning local languages.
He is now fairly fluent in the 2 most widely spoken languages in Benin, Fon Gbe
and Yoruba. This is on top of his French and English skills. Since English is his
first language, his accent will take more time to tweak – he says. He has since
gotten married to local girl and is proud that his daughter will have a mother tongue. He has
gone through a journey of intense learning and growth. But above all, he is
happy with his choices. I am very impressed by his decisions and decided to share his story.
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| sharing a hug with his mom in Canada |
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| Taking part in social dance at a local cultural centre in Benin |
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| Climbing a coconut tree getting |
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| Notice the colors on his belt?Pan-African colors |
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| In-laws bringing gifts |
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| father second from right |
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| Bàbá Délé and his family |
I asked him a few questions to make sense of his journey. Below are his answers:
Why
did you choose to settle in Benin, of all the countries of the world?
Well,
I first came to Benin while taking part in an exchange program. It was 6
months, 3 months in Quebec and 3 months in Benin with 9 Canadians and 9
Beninese. So, from doing the program I was able to get my foot in the door and
make friends, and really get to see that Africa was not so far after all. Also,
from the stories that I heard in Grenada from my great-grandmother about my
great-great-great-grandfather, I figured that he must've been from around this
region. With that in mind, as well as the fact that I knew I wanted to work
with the local languages in some regard, I decided Benin would be my
destination for repatriation.
Benin
is a third world country and Canada is a first world country. Current migration
patterns mostly involve people moving from a third world country to a first world
country looking for a better life. What do the locals think of your choice to
settle in Benin when you could have a “quality” life in Canada? And how do you
justify this decision to yourself?
That's
a great question. This is one that few understand. I will put it to you like
this, in the movie The Mummy, there is a
scene where a bunch of Americans, who are on an excavation on sacred site, are
chased away by a group of local Bedouins whose duty it is to guard that site.
One of the Americans says after "ah! They just want all the treasure for
themselves." To which another American replies "they're a desert people.
They value water, not gold." And that is how I view myself here. When
people ask me why in the hell I would leave Canada.
It
is a highly spiritual, ancestral journey which has "called me back"
to Africa. I get satisfaction in the
things that locals take for granted. The traditional spiritual practices,
speaking African languages, etc. It all means so much to me. I value water, not
gold.
As
you may have already figured out, Africans speak multiple languages and a
language that that is useful to get by in one village can be useless in the
next one. Have you learned any of the common local languages there?
The
local languages that I am currently studying are Fongbe and Yoruba. I would say
that maybe I have an intermediate level in the two of them for now.
You
addressed me in Swahili and beside the 2 languages mentioned previously, what
other languages do you speak and why did you decide (or try) to learn them?
I
don't speak Swahili yet! Lol I studied
it back in late 2011/ early 2012 before my first ever trip to Africa in
February 2012, which was to Tanzania.
I
have a knowledge of Arabic, but never reached fluency, however I plan to pick
it back up one day
Languages
are my absolute passion. I love them. I have a particular interest in African
languages, especially those ones that allow for mass communication on the
continent.
What
do you do to win bread for your brand new family there? And how do you spend your
spare time and weekends?
I
teach English here at a British international school. Other than that, I'm just with family and
sometimes friends. Once in a while I spend a weekend in the village
How
is your integration into the Beninese community local community? Do you feel
like an outsider or they have fully accepted you as one of them?
Benin
is pretty calm, man. Well, a lot of
people think I'm a white dude lol other than that, it's pretty chill. Especially when I tell my story.
I
hear having a new baby gives you an emotional satisfaction despite the rigorous
amount of effort required to raise them early on. How has the birth of your
daughter changed your life?
You
know babies are a full time job lol. But most definitely! It’s the most intense
emotion I've ever felt
Certainly
you are proud of the fact that your daughter will have a mother tongue. What
did you name her and is there a story behind the name?
I
named my daughter Ębímidélé, which
means ‘my family has come back home’ in Yoruba
Benin
is fairly far away from Canada and I would imagine you don’t exchange regular
visits with your immediate family. What do they think of your journey?
My
family supports me. Of course they miss me, but they understand my journey and
are happy for me. Especially my father who will be making his second trip to
Benin in January to see me.
Goodbye message from mom was: "I am so proud of your choices. I am so excited for you. As I've told you again and again. Obviously, we all wish you a safe flight. I know you will settle in immediately. Eric & I miss you already!!! Love Mom"
Here
in North America, I regularly meet black people who are passionate about Africa
like you. However, many would-be visitors are deterred by the economic
hardships in many Sub Saharan African countries. What do you think they will
make of your story if you were to share your experiences with them?
I
think it may reassure some black people in the west to take the plunge! Lol. They won't regret it. In the Caribbean,
we are lucky if we can count up to four great-great grandparents. Slavery
destroyed our history and our families.
I will blog about the kind of attention I received while traveling in China. The Amount of pictures people took of me or with me was off the charts. Here is picture of people taking pictures of
me posing with children (or friends).
Meja sandwich - the first of many, very many
I had my first pictures taken right at the airport.
Told ya, it didn’t take long! waiting for taxi cabs, I noticed a middle-aged couple standing directly across from me trying to take sneaky picture of me and failing. I spotted them. I did not give them the universal why-are-you-strangers-taking-a-picture-of-me stare; instead I posed and cheekily threw up the V sign. Noticing the friendly gesture, they let go of their
suitcases and sandwiched me for a group photo. It was rather, a poorly made
sandwich, one where the inner stuffings stick out of the slices. In other
words, I was head and shoulders above them.
I was tired. A nonstop flight across the world isn't the best preparation for a happy photo-shoot, but I smiled and let them have their way with me - take as many pictures as they wanted. As you will imagine shortly, pictures can be overwhelming if you are a low key introvert. Fortunately, I was mentally prepared and was up for it. I wasn't going to sulk and make them look silly in their pictures for being overly excited next to a cold stranger. I matched their enthusiasm. I prefer their interest than disinterest. As a culture junky curious about everything China, I figured the best way to understand China was to interact with the locals and go off the tourist beaten path. After all, no one wants to walk into a room only to see everyone exit. We all know the feeling when we get the impression that everyone wants nothing to do with us. Not fun at all. I was there to experience their culture and that can happen by talking to them ( or any make-do form of communication our language differences could allow).
...I can relate
I was tired. A nonstop flight across the world isn't the best preparation for a happy photo-shoot, but I smiled and let them have their way with me - take as many pictures as they wanted. As you will imagine shortly, pictures can be overwhelming if you are a low key introvert. Fortunately, I was mentally prepared and was up for it. I wasn't going to sulk and make them look silly in their pictures for being overly excited next to a cold stranger. I matched their enthusiasm. I prefer their interest than disinterest. As a culture junky curious about everything China, I figured the best way to understand China was to interact with the locals and go off the tourist beaten path. After all, no one wants to walk into a room only to see everyone exit. We all know the feeling when we get the impression that everyone wants nothing to do with us. Not fun at all. I was there to experience their culture and that can happen by talking to them ( or any make-do form of communication our language differences could allow).
...I can relate
From the very start, I had the right mindset, It is not just in China that people are curious
about different looking visitors, and want to take pictures with them. Below is
a picture of me with some volunteer white teachers back in Kenya. I was in grade 5, I think. I just noticed I didn't look friendly at all in the picture (I've come a long way from being a socially-awkward pupil). Good for these volunteers, we didn’t have smart phones at the
time. Film cameras limit the amount of spontaneous pictures anyone can take. We had to pay for then and they weren't cheap at the time.
These images of excited kids in red
explaining how walipiga picha na mzungu (pictured
with a white person) came to mind
when I would be swarmed by thrilled Chinese tourists who each wanted a picture of me. I was thrilled as well. I had never imagined what it felt
like to be a celebrity. You can’t step out wearing something compromising, it’s a photo
shoot every day. You can’t blow your nose or someone will be right there showing
you the video of the act. I am in a much better
position to understand why Justin Bieber always gets in trouble with the
paparazzi. Turns out fame has a downside too. Who knew?
Look he is holding his chopsticks wrong!
We went out for dinner one evening. Our Chinese friends
suggested spoons instead of chopsticks if we needed them. I opted for my chopsticks,
like everybody else. I had used chopsticks many times in Toronto Chinatown. Besides, I am in CHINA! My ‘first’ use of chopsticks attracted a bit of attention. I
noticed curious waiters watching me eat from the far corner of the room. As I
later learnt, there is a textbook way of holding chopsticks here. Mine wasn't. I
was holding my chopsticks ‘wrong’. The waiters were almost certain it wasn't going to be long before a dumpling would go tumbling down my chest. It
didn’t happen; my ‘wrong’ grip still got the job done. I could see them
exchanging delighted glances as if I had just successfully averted a disaster that
was waiting to happen.
…And
then came the pictures, tons of pictures
When we would visit a small town or a popular tourist attraction, I noticed a pattern. Most toddlers would
stop dead in their tracks at our sight – well, MINE. Jaws were dropping. Staring and double takes from adults became the norm. Because
of my dark complexion, I always stood out of the populace like a sore thumb. At
a crowded Tiananmen Square, it was clear that my 188cm lanky frame was also betraying my blending in efforts. People always spotted me miles away and
alerted their friends or family to check me out. My stature is not significantly bigger than that of the average Chinese though. Every time we visited an incredibly beautiful
ancient temple or palace, we would do it injustice by taking away some of the
attention it deserved. We somewhat felt like rockstars trying to pass for
laymen at a football stadium only to have fans recognize them. Even the really disciplined soldiers always standing at attention would exchange a few
omg-did-you-see-that facial expressions when I would walk by. Curious groups always found their way to where we were and took
pictures of us, with or without our permission. None of which offended me. There is a really really limited list of things that offend me anyway.
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| Fascinated Tourists at the Forbidden City |
They were just naturally intrigued. It is understandable, not everyone
lives in Toronto where all human phenotypes roam the streets. Even if there are no Harlems in China, black people can still be spotted in the big cities. There are many in Southern China, especially Guangzhou. Along with other
foreigners, I later saw many black people in a shopping area called Sanlitun in Beijing. In many isolated parts of China it is rare to run into a black person, or
a foreigner for that matter. I therefore excused the baffled gawking. Humans are curious
by nature. Personally, I would stare if
I ran into a green person loitering at Toronto's Eaton Centre, or at least point them out
to a friend so as to have a witness when I narrate the encounter to other
friends later. Even better, I would need a photo evidence to back up my claim
when I post about it on Facebook. As they say in social media, ‘pics
or it didn’t happen’. Therefore, a camera would come in handy. And most of them had
cameras or smart phones and they used them to photograph me.
… and
boy, did I see it coming?
I had done my homework. Of course, I always do *cough Cough*. Therefore, everything that
was unfolding right in front of us was neither shocking nor very surprising to
me. I expected the curious looks and obviously, the double takes. I had
sought information on what it is like to be a foreigner outside the major cities in China. Most of the
experiences I got on Google from foreigners in China were from white tourists and
expats. I was going to be a foreigner too, but I would be kidding myself if I
assumed my experience would be the same as that of a white Meiguoren. I was going to be Fēizhōu ren as I
would later keep hearing whispered when we were passing by. I had dug up substantial information on China’s contact with
black people, specifically African people. In China, black people are Africans
by default. Good luck convincing the man sitting next to you in the train that
you are actually from somewhere else. This assumption frustrates many Black
Americans and Caribbeans, and definitely not me. I had read a lot. I learnt about Lou Jing, Jean
Ping and Ding Hui aka Xiao Hei. I needed to
understand the general perception and prevailing attitude towards black people
in China. Anything I could use to explain how and why people interacted with me
in a given way. It would
have been naive to later get on Baidu and look up, ‘why were people staring at
me at the National Museum today”. I needed to have these answers before getting on a China bound plane.
Decent person, right off the bat!
People I had just met and knew nothing about me
trusted me straight away, or thought they did. Mesmerized strangers were still comfortable enough to wrap their arms around me when posing for pictures as if I was a lost cousin. How confident! It was more
than I had bargained for coming in. In western culture, such kind of contact is reserved for very close acquaintances or family.
I enjoyed the blunt genuine comments and
questions. In fact, I am more closer to the person who stares at me and ask why I am black than to the smiley one who says they don't see color but are really impressed when they notice I can spell my own name right. With very little political correctness, they acknowledged I was
different but still didn't feel threatened. I am not a huge fan of political
correctness, so I liked China even more. It warmed my heart when mothers would
walk up to me and hand me their babies, like ‘here, take my baby, I will take a
picture of you two’. It can be considered absurd in some cultures but I would
smile and interact with them. Some
toddlers would face me and look me in the eye when I am carrying them.
Why
would they be so careless to look at the camera when my silhouette could peel
off giving way to something unexpected while their parents are busy documenting
the drama? That is wise in my book. Others would scrutinize my hand closely. There is that possibility of counting 6 fingers anyway.
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| Posing for pics with intrigued families |
Generally, I was happy to help expose the little ones. I regarded it as responsible parenting when families
would point me out to children. I lifted toddlers up and smiled for
pictures not necessarily because I really love babies and would want to carry
one around if given an opportunity. It is the unsolicited faith and trust they
had in me, a stranger from across the world, which made me spare a few minutes
of my time to interact with them. Love begets love. We could only communicate
through signs as we always had no language in common. Here I didn't even have to sell myself to buy trust. How sweet! They knew totally nothing
about me but still assumed I was harmless and could let their curious toddlers
touch me, let alone lift them up 6 feet above the ground. In North America, I am used to deliberately or subconsciously carrying myself in a given way to signal for trust; play up my work and academic credentials. I imagine I come across a show-off at times, but I don't get the benefit of the doubt if I don't. In China, it was different, people would be nice to me even when
they had no incentive to do so.
Representative sample
Judging from their unfiltered but honest reactions
in some places I visited, I imagined I was likely the first black person, or
really BLACK person, they were seeing up close or meeting in person. Therefore,
I felt a small responsibility to other black people. I wanted to be
considerate, not ruin it for later black visitors. I was some kind of a
representative sample. An ambassador. A pioneer* ( there is a big asterisk on that word). Their experiences with me could influence how they treat
the next black person they will meet. I did not want to shove photo-takers out of my way. I wanted them to be able to take home a picture of the happy smiling and friendly black guy they saw that day. I was not settling in China, so this was temporary problem. A
picture didn't cost me anything, other than a bit of time. Seeing someone so
happy for just taking a picture with me felt really nice. I was
effortless making someone’s day. Some laughed when I would do the "V" sign like everybody else thinking I am mimicking them. They were right: I am a troll.
.jpg)
I
had my small chance to experience fame and did not want to be selfish. I wanted to be approachable, warm and interesting. I didn't want pictures or videos of a rude and grumpy black person that happens
to be me to pop up on weibo, renren, QQ or weixin that evening. Negative stories travel fast
on social media. And one person can dent a whole group's reputation. Stereotypes are real.
No pictures, you say. Lets see how that can work out
No pictures, you say. Lets see how that can work out
If you were not to approve strangers
taking pictures of you, someone will innocently walk up to you and hold a camera to your face anyway. What do you do? Chase them down and grab
them by the neck and threaten to choke them to death if they didn’t delete the
picture? Never mind if the photographer has Bolo Yeung’s physique. It also goes
without saying that clips of you choking someone will later show up on TV. It
is shooting yourself in the foot basically.
Hello kids, I see you
Hello kids, I see you
With the attention I was getting, I developed a
great sense of awareness of my surrounding, awareness of people pointing, giggling
and smiling when they see me. While loitering through the dense Hutongs of China, I always tried to
understand the type of reaction I was getting so as to respond appropriately.
For instance, when I got stared at, I would wear a big smile and wave at them
to break the ice. So amidst our chit chat, my friends would always catch me zoning
out, smiling and waving ‘randomly’ into the crowd, oblivious of my target.
When
it was a scared child, I tried not to pass too close less it runs into the
oncoming traffic. And that is murder in my hands right there! Well not really,
manslaughter maybe, maybe not. I like play acting with kids but I could
not afford to do anything dramatic. No one wants to deal with a heart attack
case. When a kid is shell-shocked from just seeing you, the last thing you want
to do is scare them, anything to confirm their worst fears.When I would say hello and wave at them, the
courageous ones would wave back and smile. Others would quickly hide behind the
adult travelling with them to avoid my eye contact. Only to peep to make sense
of what they had seen. I would imagine them asking their mothers, ‘ma, they make 'em in that shade too?’
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| The little girl took off for the hill brother holding her back. |
Hey, I
saw what you did there, got ya!
Many people understand that taking a picture of a stranger makes them uneasy, so many had creative ideas of taking pictures
of me. Some took pictures of me from behind when I was not looking. Someone
would also walk too close to me and have a friend take the photo or a selfie, with
me as the backdrop. Some would start filming ‘something’ in my path when they
see me approaching and have me walk right into their picture frame.
I was
cheeky. When I saw someone ‘secretly’ filming me, I would turn and face them and make the V sign. That is like saying hey, I see what you did there, you may
as well come forward and take a clean shot. Realizing their cover is blown; they
would grin, come forward and take the picture. Most were courageous enough to
ask for permission though. Even better, when I was strolling and saw a guy
alerting a friend, I would pause and wait until he looks my way. Then I would
give them thumbs up like, ‘here I am the one he is showing you’. How
embarrassing! I am weird.
He is a
celebrity, maybe?
I noticed that every time I would accept to pose
with one person, it would be like opening flood gates. More and more people
stepped forward from left and right to take pictures with me. Even more other picture
taking gadgets would be pointed at me from different vantage points once they
notice I was a fair game to film. I also saw some French tourists filming the whole encounter in one occasion.
It may have been the case that some who took
pictures with me did so just because they saw everybody else doing. They
probably didn’t want to bang their heads on the wall when they got home only to
realize they had ignorantly passed up a free photo-opp with some famous black
person. Could he be Usain Bolt? A CSL star? A rapper, maybe. Or a really
vertically challenged and skinny NBA player. Who knows?
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| This Tibetan elders took turns to pose with me |
Tailor
made soldiers and the Forbidden City
I was watching soldiers parading in front of the Forbidden City. It was around 6pm. I felt a gentle touch on my left arm.
Looking down, I saw a little girl, about 5 years-old standing between me and
her father. She was determined to assure herself that the dark coat that was in
place of my skin wasn’t actually permanent and could be removed if only I could
scrub myself harder. I did not pull my hand. I extended it to her. I knew
what was going through her mind. I had seen that movie before. She
looked me in the eye and poked my arm, flinching a little. I looked down and
smiled at her broadly. She smiled back, relieved that she hadn't punched a hole
on my arm. Her father noticed what was happening and
pulled her away. I told him it was just a learning process. I later had a similar experience while waiting in line to see Chairman Mao at his Mausoleum. A little boy I was carrying
while her mother took pictures of us wondered why my hands (palms, actually)
were ‘orange’ while the rest of my body was black. Everyone around us laughed.
My friends translated it and I laughed too. It is a traditional question black
people get. I remember reading about it in Luis
Benardo Honwana’s Hands of the Black
back in high school.
Wait, there
is another heiren here?
I ran into another black person, a girl. She was African American of Sierra Leonean descent. She also had
had her own equal share of pictures. We compared notes on our respective experiences . She talked of being petted; her hair being pulled. An artificially lengthened hair is a foreign idea in many parts
of the world, so it was not surprising that her plaited hair drew
attention. Her Chinese friends
thought the number of people wanting to take pictures with her was ‘ridiculous’.
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They
thought the best way to use her 15 minutes of fame and cut down the number of photo requests was to charge 5RMB
(= $1) for a picture with her. They made her a sign
that she would show to would-be photo takers. And believe me you, people were paying! She was fairly pretty and exotic to a Chinese eye. I
mean who wouldn’t give up a dollar? I would take
a sneaky picture of her if my ego got in the way of personally asking her to
pose with me. Here’s a picture of us
laughing about her silly sign.
Look Changcheng! Great
Wall!
Most of the tourists on the Great Wall on that day were Chinese. Guess where I am going with this already? Every once in a while, we would be admiring the Great Wall as it gracefully meanders through the green hilly terrain and connects with the grey sky or disappears behind a distant hill.
Most of the tourists on the Great Wall on that day were Chinese. Guess where I am going with this already? Every once in a while, we would be admiring the Great Wall as it gracefully meanders through the green hilly terrain and connects with the grey sky or disappears behind a distant hill.
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| With travel friends from Toronto |
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| Playing the cool-guy-pose on the great wall |
I always kept
lagging behind to take photos with strangers. My friends always
stopped to wait. I felt a little guilty for accepting all
the photo requests. Pictures would go on and on at
times especially when we run into a busload of tourists from a really small
town. So once in a while I would pull the white friend into the pictures. He
was a laowai too, I reasoned. I needed a little ground to share the guilt, like ‘we are all in this; they were stopping US all for pictures’.
Even with my effort, he would sometimes end up
at the periphery of the pictures. He was getting a stepchild’s attention, much
to our general surprise. It makes sense when you consider I was the only black
face on the wall for the entire duration of our stay - about four hours. I
guess they had seen a dozen tall white guys a few towers earlier,
but the lanky black guy with a tiny Mohawk was too real a treasure to pass up. It is a basic case of demand and supply, ain’t
it?
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| with other volunteers from Toronto |
… picha na mzungu reversed
At the end I would say in my stay in
China, I never felt threatened or unsafe, if at all hostile body language is
anything to suggest danger (or lack thereof). It is indeed, arguably, one of the
safest places in which you can walk on the backstreets at night. I still don’t speak the
language. My command of Chinese barely extends north of xièxiè. In other words,
I can easily come off as a clueless foreigner, and that is enough to get you
mugged in other parts of the world. China is relatively a very homogeneous
country.
Not to discount the fact that it is a huge country comprised of
different subcultures, accents or regional dialects that may be hard to
understand in other regions. Anyone looking different in most
small towns is always a curious case to the local people and they want to come
closer to you, interact and know more about you. So anything they know about
black people can get the conversation off the ground before pictures – pictures
with me.
One can easily wonder why in
this digital age anyone can be thrilled to see a black person. Asking that
question is naïve in itself. Yes, there are millions of Chinese citizens affluent enough to travel around the world but there are millions more who don’t have the opportunity to
travel outside China. Most Africans spend their whole lives in their home
countries. Unless foreigners come to their villages, their perspective of the
world is limited to what they can see around them. The experience of seeing
something live is always greater than seeing the same thing on TV and most want to savor it.
If I return ten years from now the encounters with
video and cellphone cameras will be a thing of the past. I enjoyed
my first visit. Maybe it would have been a little more fun if I was Kobe
Bryant. I am asking for too much, don’t you think?
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| Yikui Wei, Uni friend/classmate playing the tour guide |
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| Photos and more photos :P |
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| Absolutely loved this family dressing |
If anything,
I have learnt a lot here and maybe most of the people who interacted with me
had a positive experience like I did. There's a difference between having
pre-conceived notions about a given group of people from afar and actually
getting to know someone at the individual level where you can really begin to
connect and empathize as human beings. Even with a language barrier standing in
the way, we could always agree how awesome Kawhi Leonard was in the last finals
when he shut down Lebron James and dismantled his reign at South
Beach. We have more in common than we think we actually have, and it becomes
apparent when you approach individuals with an open mind.
I sometimes think about all the pictures I took with people I prefer not to call strangers. This week I was joking with one of
my Chinese friends that he should be on the lookout, for pictures of me with cute little boys and girls will be on Chinese internet.
Well, maybe that is a bit of a stretch but you get the point, a ton of
pictures. I wonder what they did with all those pictures of me lifting babies
up and saying ‘cheese’ as thrilled parents took shots. Did they post them on
renren or QQ? If they did, what did they say about me? Also, 20 years down the road, what will those toddlers-now-adults think of the black dude pictured carrying them in their baby photos? Maybe
with the help of their parents, they too will have a story about me and the
picture. I would love to read about or listen to their stories. I would love to
listen to them narrate what their ‘first’ encounter with a black person was. Like Claude Mackay said in his
famous poem, one day; I. SHALL. RETURN. to China.
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| kids and mom feeding their curiosity |
More Pictures from China
