MY AFRO-SCHENGHEN MEMOIRS: WHITE PEOPLE PROBLEMS

 

MY AFRO-SCHENGHEN MEMOIRS:  WHITE PEOPLE PROBLEMS

Sometimes I wish I had white people problems. As a matter of fact, I will take white people problems for a thousand Kenyan shillings any day. I once heard a testimony of a Caucasian female, whose Louboutin shoes were stuck in the mud and it took a miracle from God to save those designer shoes from ruin. I did not know whether to scream or cry at her vexing testimony. Before I could recover from the first testimonial, another one surfaced, and this time, from a European male, who professed that he had slept in his car for days on end, before God came through and gave him keys to a sweet mansion.

Well, at least he could afford a vehicle. Here in Africa, a car is a luxury which most of us cannot afford to purchase, and turn them into mobile homes. Wait, what? How about the sweet mansion he claimed to have been a miracle blessing from God? Exactly how did this wonder come about? God, are you secretly dishing out luxury homes, while I struggle to rent a noisy apartment, with major electric blackouts, and salty water? What kind of mystery prayers are these random people praying? For this reason my Lord, I kindly propose that You and I converge in our private quarters this evening, to have a serious conversation about my pending miracles but I digress.

As I was saying, the aforementioned powerful testaments brought to my memory some Caucasian apprentices I interned with back in the day, when I was young and hip in my twenties. You should have heard these girls gripe about their entitled grievances. Everytime they lamented about their tedious expatriate reputes, I rolled my eyes in utter displeasure, and took beer shots to forget my real problems. One Becky Sue even had the nerve to grouch about how her then rich boyfriend was busy working to fend for both of them, that he did not have time to cuddle her. I almost choked, in remembrance of my mediocre boyfriend, whose former job is not worth mentioning on this platform, for legal reasons.

Anyhow, at least Becky Sue's rich boyfriend earned a decent living, and If I was standing in her Prada shoes, I would not have the nerve to complain at all. Instead, I would have been at his beck and call, catering to him twenty four hours a day. Heck, with that kind of money Becky Sue's rich boyfriend was minting, I would have dedicated my time to sing, dance, laugh, cry, love, hate, lie, steal, cheat, cook, and clean for him, whether or not he made a request of me. On the other hand, where I stood with my then boyfriend was a sink or swim situation, whereby, it was every man for himself but God for us all. Again, I am unable to speak on our short-lived rocky relationship, for licit reasons.

So anyway, back to Becky Sue's white problems. At the time, she was petitioning God to make a way for her and her rich boyfriend to spend some quality time together. The nerve of this girlchild to be praying about typical matters, when infact she had garnered all of God's blessings. I had the mind to go all self-righteous on her, by granting her a harsh rebuke, while pointing my judgmental finger at her but I held back, for fear that the other girls would see the pettiness seeping through my pores, and inturn viciously retaliate. Needless to say, I zoned off mid-conversation during Becky Sue's rant, to reflect on my own life.

If only God would grant me one wish and allow me to suffer white people problems for one solid year. After twenty five years of living an average life, I craved for some white people problems for a change. Unlike Becky Sue's honest feelings, I needed bragging rights, to have a memoir of the good life I could have and complain about. For once in my life, I wished to cross over from the African lane, into the Caucasian path, to entreat God for; a mansion, a car, a real life Adonis, and a safe journey to the Maldives for a swell vacation, as opposed to praying for the usual food, shelter, and clothing like I always did. After being on this earth quarter of a century, this was my prayer to God, appealing for Him to grant me a prosperous future.

Dear Lord, I promise not to ask for much, if you accord me white people problems for a full year. I will not ask to go to space, because I can always visit it in my head. Besides, has anyone really been to space? Nonetheless, all I need is a solo trip to Tuscany, just to see what the fuss is all about. I equally desire a sweet ride like a Bentley, just to own one. Lord, please provide me with a richer boyfriend than Becky Sue's. Actually, scratch that wish off my prayer list and instead, make me richer than Becky Sue's rich boyfriend, as you enhance my problems to be whiter than snow. What's more, I desire to stunt my new found wealth on every living soul, and let them know that a nappy head can also make it big in this lifetime.

Additionally, could you make it rain money on me, so that I may get to constantly whine about my ninety nine money problems? You know that my go-to Sangoma does not have your kind of superpowers to flood my life with enough wealth and resources, that will transform me to become filthy rich. Lord, I promise to brag only twice a day if you accord me white people problems. But I will only flaunt my wealth to other nuveau riche like me. I will further stand at any market corner I can find, inside the open square everyday, and sorrowfully sigh at my white problems, loud enough for every mother's son to get the hint, and bitterly hate me for it. After, I will proceed to showcase my philanthropic acts, by giving away my wealth to those in dire need.

But alas, the angels tending to the Caucasian prayer lane have denied me an entry pass, with which to access the white blessings. Moreover, they did not bother to offer me an explanation as to why they were flying me back to the African prayer lane. To state the fact that I was offended by this prejudice action on their part is an understatement, for in reality I was furious at their blatant denial of me to approach the royal white side of the heavenly throne. Needless to say, the entire prayer scenario of the angels guarding racial lanes was all just my imagination playing inside my head.