Prose

Don’t call me people of colour

I am black. My people are black or shades of black. Some are Maiduguri black, like charcoal.

Others are Owerri black. We call them “yellow.” But they are not yellow. They are fair. But they are black too.

Black is a colour. But I am not people of colour.

And you?

White?

No, you are not!

No human is white.

Snow is white. Are you the colour of snow?

Cotton is white. Are you the colour of cotton?

An egret is white. Are you the colour of an egret?

The clouds too could be white when they are not drunk with rain. Are you the colour of sober clouds?

So what is your colour? You don’t know? Because you are confused?

Well, you are “oyibo!” And oyibo does not mean white in any language.

In Urhobo, white is “ufuafon.” So, why do we not call you ufuafon? Because you are not white.

But I know I am black. And so they call me “obiabi.” Which means black. I am obiabi.

May be you are the colour of peak choko and shades thereof. Okay, you don’t know what peak choko is?

That means “oyibo potoki” and shades thereof.

You are not white. May be you are the real people of colour because you don’t know your colour.

So stop calling me people of colour. I am black. And you not white.

About author
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, Newspackng.
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