Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
“But I thought things were hunky-dory…that we were all starting to get along?”
Her deep brown eyes softened and, taking my hand in hers, she sat me down at an upturned cable drum doing duty as a table.
“Mike, take a long, hard look at your people,” she said quietly. “You should be able to discern something from their behaviour.”
“Yeah, well,” I mumbled, “I know we’re pretty dumb, but if it wasn’t for us, you people still wouldn’t have the wheel. I mean, we’ve transplanted hearts, put a man on the moon…”
Like a musician — blacks have natural rhythm, she plugged in. “…colonised the world and killed hundreds of millions of people. All for fun and profit. And you’re still doing it. I know these things.”
She does too. A Rwandan refugee denied South African citizenship these past ten years, she’s packed in quite a bit of learning for a single person looking after sixteen orphans. I kid you not; as you know, I’m no bigot and would not resort to stereotyping. Mama Africa has this thing for children, so she looks after them.
No white kids, of course. Being a racist precludes that, I s’pose…
Mike Golby and Blacks are the Biggest Racists.
You just can’t keep a good black down, even when you try.
