Not the stereotypical Nigerian….

Watching runner runner a few months ago on one those satellite channels fond of showing ‘old’ movies…. These words stood out: Dean Monroe telling the protagonist, “what you touch, touches us.” And this is why muslims from Arab countries may get extra attention at Western airports because of some association with terrorism.

Stereotypes are powerful. They tell us what to see, how to see, how to behave….

Foreigners who commit crimes stand out. If it happens often enough and the crimes are usually of a particular kind, it gives grounds for locals and law enforcement to stereotype…. Additionally, news of major busts of foreigners could be like plane crash events. With the consequent help the media, this news helps fix the idea in the minds of locals that the average Nigerian in their country is very likely a scammer.

In an international social gathering, a Nigerian attempted to initiate a conversation with a Briton. The Brit asked him pointedly, ‘do you want to dupe me?’ That would’ve been okay if he asked only once. But he soon started sounding like a broken record. And the conversation that was not, ended. The Nigerian understood where the Brit was coming from; whether from direct experience or from hearsay….

A happy as usual Nigerian once passed through two airports in a connecting flight, happy as usual. He passed through the scans in Dubai without any alarm. In the UK, however, their body scanner was triggered by who knows what. He was asked to go to the side to get patted down. There was amusement clearly on his face but they weren’t smiling. He was left thinking about why he was given special treatment. Because he smiled too much, he hoped. He still had on the exact same clothes in London as he had in dubai—with nothing remotely metallic on. Perhaps their scanners were more sensitive to ‘je ne sais quoi’. Could they be manually triggered? Nigerians are now getting suspicious of ….

Do you currently associate some stereotypical behaviours (good, interesting, bad, or ugly) with Nigerians. Have you ever met ‘not the stereotypical Nigerian.’ Replace ‘Nigerian’ with some other country of interest.

Regards,

Is it racist?

It was night.
The old white lady held her bag more tightly because a black man in a hoody came close. If she were black, and she saw some ‘any-coloured’ dude that fit the description of the stereotypical ‘snatcher,’ she’d do the same.

The white lady might be thinking: dark, black, hoody, therefore….
And the black lady thinking: dark, hoody, therefore….

Is it racist to act in ‘commonsense’ from real collective experience that resulted in some form of negative stereotyping of specific demographics?

It’s not that simple.

A love-hate-love relationship (View 2)

At first it was easy,

then it became a little challenging.

Things had slowed down.

A little later with a spurt of will,

he picked up pace and continued,

seeking to be diligent;

the same and different.

It felt harder.

First she loved him;

then she hated him.

And then again she loved him

and hated him after that;

even more so a little later.

Then she loved him again;

coming to hate him eventually some time later.

And finally, she loved him,

accepting her choice.

Demanding persistence, he gave it that;

until he hit a brick wall

and kind of got quenched.

He came back again to climb over

in a breakthrough;

going on for a while

and slowly getting weary.

Finally he let go to say,

“I love you anyways.”

No longer looking to fall in love

She had felt so in love with him
It seemed like the feeling was mutual
They had a flow like soulmates
As one before they became one

One indeed afterwards in the closest bond
Their marriage seemed certain to come
But one day life hit her hard—bad
Her heart was cracked by the man of her heart
The meaning inherent in her feelings was left hanging
No route to any end, dangling
She wanted to die—not literally

The story she had lived in was getting unwritten.
A beautiful story had come to frozen
Nooooooo!!
That wouldn’t cover the effusion of emotion
It was much too much to hold
it had to show

No longer looking to fall in love;
All she wanted was sense and decency.
That rapport and spontaneity that consumed her previously ceased to mean anything
It had lost its appeal after the jolt—the jilt

A man came up to her one day
He seemed okay….
No flow and glow
Yet good as okay would go
Sane and decent
She said yes when he proposed

There were no bells and whistles
She wasn’t swept of her feet
Not like she was into him
Feet firmly on the ground and eyes wide open

She had said yes and moved on
Satisfied with her choice
She would give her life but not her heart.
It had been wrapped in a cold blanket

It was a while…
When one day she realised she was liking him especially
A love with emotion was budding
And a warm feeling inside growing

Two kinds of rules

Rules that others make for us
Rules that we’ve made for ourselves

Rules we follow with our heads
Rules we follow from our hearts

Rules we do not care to honour
Rules we care not to dishonour

Rules that are made because they could be broken
Rules that exist because they should be followed

Rules that are because truth is
Rules that are because truth is ignored

At every moment there are just two kinds of rules before us and only one of two ways to do per time.