Hers was a journey from the small town of Sapele Road, destination: Italy. Serena relives the memories that defied most people's definition of “odd.”
There she was, right in their midst, a mahogany-skinned urchin wearing braids with unusual colors: purple and blue. You bet she must have thought she looked cool. The other kids looked different, with red lips and skin so pale. It made her think of those American movies she’d watch with the bigger kids at home, the ones with white people in them. She thought those people were from another planet. It was the first time she felt like all eyes were on her—the kids were staring at her with astonishment and curiosity, as though their eyes would pop out of their sockets. It wasn’t hard to figure out: she knew they would need just a little more time to ease up on the staring.
The night before her first day of school in a new country, she couldn’t sleep. There was this feeling of anxiety mingled with excitement, although she had no idea what it was going to be like. She was looking forward to meeting these new kids and making new friends, something she was in desperate need of. That morning, she woke up before the alarm clock rang. She said her morning prayer with the family and headed for the bathroom.
When she arrived at the school, she walked in through the gate, and the sight was overwhelming, unlike anything she had ever seen. Contrary to what she was used to, the school building was whole: there were no falling ceilings or broken doors. She couldn’t believe it, and right there, she thought to herself that it was a new beginning—a new chapter and she couldn’t wait to flip the pages.
The bell rang, and the kids rushed to their classes with a sense of ease and purpose while she was escorted quietly down the halls by a tall, fair-skinned lady—one of the janitors at the middle school. When they got to the classroom, the janitor knocked on the door but opened it without waiting for a reply. The other kids were already seated, and the teacher was sitting in a separate chair behind her desk before the class. The new girl stood by the door as the Janitor whispered something to the teacher. Then, on her way out, she patted her shoulder as if to wish her good luck. And there she stood, stuck still by the door, not knowing what to do: it was all too much to take in—perhaps permission from the teacher could shake her out of this strange paralysis of the mind.
It was a different classroom—a functioning one, she thought; there were chairs with matching desks and a white board. All of this was different from what she was used to.
Moments later, the teacher told the class, Allora ragazzi, date il benvenuto alla vostra nuova compagna di classe dalla Nigeria, Serena.
Serena had no idea what the teacher had just said, but judging from the chattering of the other students, she presumed she was being presented as the new kid. She was wearing a purple T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. The teacher held her hand and took her to sit next to Giulia, the most intelligent kid in class. And with that, any hope of going on with the lesson came to an end as some of the kids left their desks to come closer to Serena and started bombarding her with their prying questions. The teacher, noticing how confused Serena looked, asked Giulia to interpret the questions—they seemed excited to have someone like Serena in their class, a real novelty. Shortly afterward, the bell rang. It
was the ten-minute short break for snacks and chatting, but it wasn’t all fun for Serena. Although Giulia tried to communicate with her, she wasn’t able to utter one simple sentence. For a moment, she thought she could just say yes to whatever Giulia said—after all, they were all questions, no doubt about it.
On her way home, Serena couldn’t help but wonder how much the white kids looked alike—everybody was so thin, even the janitor. Where she was from, thin people were usually poor; it was a sign that they were not eating well or they couldn’t afford two square meals, let alone three; and when you were fat, that was a sign you were healthy, your parents were rich, and your physical appearance testified to that. She thought to herself: maybe white people don’t have much to eat like most children in Africa, who only got one meal a day—if they were lucky. There was something about their skin: it was glowing, and they didn’t look like they were starving or underfed—far from it. That was a concept Serena would come to understand soon enough.
After a couple of days and the overly surprised reaction of the kids in Serena’s class, she concluded that, perhaps, she was the only black student in her entire middle school – and she was right, after all.
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