Skin deep

The final visible patch of blue sky slowly vanished behind the dark clouds that were hurriedly closing up. Then it started. First a drop, then two, and before long, the lush countryside was being pelted gently by the icy, afternoon rain. A biting cold suddenly set in. Out on the town’s streets, a man in a loosely fitting shirt scampered towards a restaurant, a flimsy newspaper protecting his head from the cold droplets. He barged into the slightly shut door and headed towards an empty table by the bar. He had hardly taken his seat when he snapped his fingers at an approaching waiter and asked for hot coffee. The man carelessly sat on a dry chair, dripping water all over the restaurant’s beautifully fitted carpet. Outside, the rain rapidly picked its pace.

Right across the street, on a shop’s awning, a black hen crouched; her chicks brooded gladly underneath her warm, fluffy feathers. A window on the top floor of the building that housed the restaurant opened a little. Behind its curtains a boy watched, enthralled by how everything was brought to a standstill by the seemingly potent rain. He gawked at the cars as they sped up and down the soggy lanes, chuckling every time their tyres splashed water onto the sidewalk as they went over the potholes. Several water droplets fell on the huddled hen. She curled up, as if to strike the way cobras do, then stood up and moved further into the verandah, closer to the shop’s warm wall.

Suddenly, a black chick teetered from behind a flower vase next to the shops door, chirping faintly as it tried to make its way to its huddled mother. The chick stopped and shuddered when a cold wind unexpectedly blew across the street, its barely formed feathers doing little to ease her off. Then it started to walk again, its mothers eyes firmly fixed on it. A car whizzed over the puddle again, this time sending a fair amount of water splashing onto the verandah. The black chick couldn’t get away in time. The water landed squarely on its limp body making it to fall down on its side before letting out a loud squeak. It lay motionless for what appeared like an eternity then suddenly got up. With what seemed like its final strength, it ran towards its mother. The mother, as if on cue, swiftly rose up and ran towards the approaching chick; her wings widely spread as if she was going in for an embrace.

Then an unexpected thing happened. The mother hen viciously pecked at the black chick, causing it to fall down and, apparently, pass out. The hen stood still for a second as if to admire her effort, then turned and made a small dash towards her impeccably white chicks that were becoming rather impatient.

The boy behind the curtains opened his mouth wide, totally bewildered. Nature itself was seemingly against his kind, he thought in between loud sniffles. No one liked black things. The kids in school always reminded him every time they derided his dark skin tone. That day he had gone through his worst ridicule incident and from it had sworn never to attend school ever again. That day Janice had called him ‘burnt boy’. He hadn’t done anything wrong to her. At least that’s what he thought. He had only approached her and requested to join in on her game. She refused saying she didn’t want to play with a ‘floating shirt’. The other kids laughed and joined in on the name calling. ‘Blackie’ and ‘BB’ (burnt boy) resounded loudly in his aching head.

It was not the first time he had been picked on because of his skin colour. Even his best friend Kareru mocked him at times whenever they played together. He always told his mother and mostly she hugged and told him to ignore those kids as they were just envious of him. Her words, and hugs, seemed to ease the pain a bit but the derision began all over again immediately he got to school. He hated the other kids. Especially those with a skin tone more fair than his. It wasn’t like the kids in his school’s skins were as white as the preacher’s who had visited their church their previous month. No! In fact, compared to him they were really dark! Even if, he did not choose to be born with his kind of skin colour. He was just born with it! He hated his skin colour!

By the time he realized he was now crying loudly, his mother was snuggling him, frantically trying to stop his crying. After a short while, he hushed; though the sniffles were still largely audible.

“What’s wrong Jimmy?” his mother asked soothingly.

He liked his name. Jimmy. It sounded like the other kid’s. “Heck, it’s even better!” he thought quietly. That comforted him at times. At least he was a little ‘normal’.

“They called me burnt boy,” he replied, trying hard to hold in his tears. “I’m never going to school again!”

His mother looked at him desolately, a tear forming then running down her left cheek. She didn’t know what to say anymore. She just sat there, quietly, holding her son tightly to herself. Then it came to her.

“Jimmy, those kids might not know it, but what they are doing is wrong,” she said looking deep into her son’s teary eyes.

“But always remember this,” she added, her voice firmer, “the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.”

‘The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.’ What did that even mean?! Jimmy simply stared at her now smiling mother then embraced her firmly.

*

The whole world watched in awe, billions of eyes glued on the first manned-Mars landing. Asiyo watched more keenly, as her son was writing history before her very eyes. First the spacecraft landed, then a being emerged from its opened doors. Asiyo’s watery eyes broke lose, as the camera zoomed to the name tag of the very first human to set foot on Mars – Jimmy.