By Kassim Sekinat

You saw my skin and called it dirty

I saw yours and clung onto a bottle of whitening cream

Rubbing vigorously

Hoping it looks like yours. Someday…

 

You saw my hair and made it out to be a clown’s wig

I saw yours and dashed to my hairdresser’s

Scalp burning from chemicals

“No! It’s still not like mine!”

 

You heard my tongue

and somehow it’s barbaric

While I latched onto yours like an Ox pecker to a cattle.

“Ha ha, she sounds funny”

 

You heard my music and called it local

I, like a broken disc, replayed yours

Echoing you till I’m perched

While mine gathered dust in my throat

 

You saw me eat with the palm of my hands

Suddenly it was like nursery all over again

Learning table manners

and the lousy manners of spoons and forks

 

Now, the tables have turned…

 

Melanin is now the trend

You were so easy to be copied

But jokes on you ‘cause

this can’t be copied

 

We now celebrate our afro

Our styles, our braids

I muffled a giggle but somehow my face still spoke

“Now look who’s running to the hairdresser’s”

 

Look at you stuttering

your way into my tongue

Na ordinary pidgin still dey burst your brain

Anyway… more power to your elbow

 

Now, you limp your way into my lyrics?

I’d love to see you sway to

the tunes irked your skin red

My skin can’t turn red, it remains black.

 

You flew all the way trying our delicacies

And no, don’t come here to westernize our food

Ákárá is not bean cake neither is Ákámú pap

Take a wild guess who’s catching Amala with the palm of their hands…

… The other side feels good, doesn’t it?

Photo Credit: Pinterest

 

ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

Sekinat Kassim is a 300-level English Language student, part-time tutor and part-time writer who loves reading novels at her leisure time.