On Being Black

The ATMs scammed us. Emma and I both lost a significant amount of money trying to withdraw dinars for grocery shopping and our bank decided it was up to us to get it back. The idea was frightening because going into a bank anywhere to ask for money without some sort of receipt is not on my to-do list--let alone in the Middle East.


So we went to the University Hospital to find Cairo-Amman Bank. Surprisingly enough they wouldn't help us and sent us away to an even scarier establishment, but this is beside the point.


Walking down the 100%-grade hill toward home we were stopped by an official-looking man. We asked him if we weren't allowed down this road and at first he told us no, then proceeded to ask us where we're from, what we study, etc. After chatting he points to my fair-skinned friend and says rather emphatically in Arabic "White! You are white!" We nod politely and agree (so maybe he'll let us down the hill) and wait for him to finish. Then he studies my face for a while and, in English, says rather sullenly "Black, eh? You black." We politely nod and chuckle a bit, knowing I'm not at all black. He then turns back to Emma pointing to her eyes and says, "Bluuuuue!"


He turns to me, studies my eyes, and says "Okay, you go."

And I still need my money.