Conversation held before class yesterday:
girl: where are you from?
me: rwanda?
girl: where?
me: ru-wa-nda
girl: what?
me: raaaaaaa-waaaaaa-ndaaaa
girl: ok, so that's like r-w-...?
me: um, yup.
girl: (whispers to friend) is that a country?
me: (clearly astounded at this point) ehh...YES!
girl: oh! like the hotel?
*laughter from other person*
me: *pause*
girl: *slightly embarassed* as in, the movie?
me: well. yes, the movie was not about a hotel, per se, but about...oh, nevermind.*suddenly exhausted*
okay, now, this conversation is taking place just before a class on punishment and human rights. international human rights. at the master's level. and the person i'm talking to attends what is generally considered a really good university in the US. so what's her excuse? why is it that years and years later, considering where i am both geographically and academically, that i'm still having essentially the same conversation i was having with my highschool classmates in small-town canada?
dear people of the world,
please read a book/newspaper.
lotsa love,
negrita.
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