So yesterday my Chinese friend asks me if I’m free and I pretended I wasn’t so we attended some Asian activities just within the school. We get there and take pews, different tables though. And just before I started gobbling down those queen cakes they had set before me… A foreigner comes by. He is a young strapping lad carrying a backpack. He asks me, “Ahgfdsbh khadhh vjkrcnslyfhui nhfksdah?”
I look at him, then tilt my head slightly sideways and upwards so that I’m gazing at the roof, then I fold my arms, I furrow my brows and carefully place my index finger on my bottom lip so that I look thoughtful. He has tiny, terrifying teeth and tinnier eyes, slit eyes to be precise!
“What is he saying?” I ask my queen cakes.
“Or maybe he’s asking me out.”
“Djhaghn mjjjhkmni imffjks nnasuykam ,” he says again.
I look at him, finger still on bottom lip, and nod slowly, as if I’m absorbing his incomprehensible words.
“What language is that?”…Of course I knew it was Korean, but the only thing I know in Korean is 안녕하세요! (Hello), I mean, How was I supposed to remember what my Korean teacher had been teaching for the last couple of months? How? How was I supposed to concentrate? While looking at lips that were telling a story, a smile and a dimple that made the story really interesting, and then eyes that made me forget if there was a story being told. How? Eh? Hooooow?
“Hanguk saram i yeyo? (Are you Korean?),” I finally gather strength and ask , shaking my head slowly and maintaining intense eye contact with the foreign fellow.
“네” (yes). He “Nees” me. So now I yelled a bigger Amen from within! This was the day that my gods had decided that a foreigner would drive heads of cattle to our homestead.
“Nsuirhn jd jsdfnusdnn uioddfsmm mcvjklmds ye yo!” the foreigner says, pointing at my face. He looks concerned.
“Ah, my face?” I ask, pointing at my face.
“什么?” (what?) I’m tempted to spit some serious Chinese on his face.
“Ah, don’t worry. I’m not having the unbearable pains of childbirth, this is just how I look naturally,” I assure him gently,… my skin is naturally oily, And I just came out this fully baked. In simpler terms, this skin is made of brown sugar, honey, cocoa, and 100 percent gold. So let’s do the math, Black woman + Education= LETHAL COMBINATION.
He glares at me for a moment as if digesting my earlier quirks about being a black goddess. He reaches for his backpack and opens it. He fumbles inside it a bit and his hand comes out of the bag holding some crisp, dollar notes.
“Endfh jka nyaesc amnauw basiuyr yu kliouawr xdgfuigh i ye yo,” he says, making gestures with his handful of money.
Baaaaaaaas! I realize that this young man’s name is Opportunity, and he is not even knocking at my door, but sitting right next to me with money in his hands. I am not going to let a little detail like language barrier come between me and Opportunity. After all, at least I knew the basics, it was his fault that he confused me to the point of numbness.
“Why do I fall in love so easily?” I think to myself while looking at his handful of money.
“What does he want?”I again speak to my yet to be consumed cakes!!!
Just then,a young Ethiopian female species approaches us quickly. She has a big, colourful weave, cleavagey top, (Nairobi’s room temperature being 14 Celsius..Lord!!!) a tiny khaki short, very long red polished talons and Maasai sandals.
“Phnafh wuubagvd yiueqwwjkb fgyq euiqwy uihjka ijwdsy i ye yo” Says the woman to Opportunity.
Then she looks at me and says , ” He’s with me”…And again with a little devilish smile adds, ” He’s mine”
It’s a bloody lie. I want to say it’s a bloody lie but she looks like she has won many catfights and isn’t afraid to get into another one, so I just say, “Ooh, sawa.” ( Oh, it’s okay)
At the moment my Opportunity is looking at this other fellow from my diaspora marveling at her fluency Korean.
“Vjewfh jhh jwoeruoirn pqlefrjhe i ye yo,” says the other woman to the man. She is blowing smoke from the corners of her lips.
The man laughs and responds to her in that strange language while still looking at their cleavages and maybe complexion. Then they leave.
A missed Opportunity. Arghhhhhhhhhhhh!
Then my Korean classmate calls and yells,”Hey friend, didn’t see you in today’s class, we’ve been learning about Self Introduction in Korean!!!” Then I cursed the gods for having conspired against me.
And I am left with my snackies at the table with one profound resolution: that Inasmuch as I’m supper busy doing both Korean and Chinese, I will never miss a Korean class.