Then, The White Man Called Us “Niggers”

“As the four of us in the U-Haul truck talked about Nigeria, Kenya, South Africa, Africa, Bowling Green, and the United States, I was having another conversation – the quiet type of conversation you have with your friend when someone is acting a fool at a dinner party – with my other roommate, the one who had been quiet when the white man asked where we ‘niggers’ were from. “

Pay $1000 for a Domain Name? Not This Guy!

“After some back and forth with a representative of the company hoarding, they said, ‘this will cost you nothing less than four figures,’ and I started to chuckle. Like a celebrity scandal, the chuckling grew into a burst of loud laughter. There was no way I would spend about $1000 on a domain name. I could buy a good plot of land in Nigeria with that amount. Oh, I had a good laugh. In fact, when I finally settled down, I replied the representative, ‘You’ve made my day. I hope you enjoy the rest of yours.’”

The Mission: A Short Story

“To get into this business, you don’t necessarily need the man. Unfortunately, the three of us, like most folks in Cuny Island, don’t have a car. You see, Cuny Island is not really an island. People call this place an island only because outsiders don’t come here since our streets are the shadiest and most violent, especially in the summer. The man is the only supplier who has enough products and is bold enough to drive up here. So, we need the man. And so do Zion and Big T – the reason we have failed at this mission two times already.”

The Week I Died

“In the ethereal darkness of my conscious mind, I considered reopening my eyes. ‘This place with the blinding bright white light must be heaven,’ I thought. Then, I started hearing a voice. It was a familiar one, but I couldn’t understand what it was saying.  ‘What if this isn’t heaven? What if there is no heaven and I’ve actually reincarnated as a newborn baby and that’s why I don’t understand what the voice is saying?’  I opened my eyes, and the place was the same. Then, a blurry dark figure crept up from my left, hovering over me.”

The Wounded Socialization of a Muslim-Christian Child

“By the time I was 6 years old, I was used to the Imam of our local mosque speaking highly of Prophet Muhammad (SAW) as he declared that Christians were only playing themselves. At my mother’s church, pastors would roar that because one must accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior to enter heaven, Muslims are doomed. Each side professed that the other was fooling me, and both sides demanded my solidarity at the front where my socialization as a young child was wounded.”