Short Story: The Dilemma Of The Black Skin!

His exictement had logic embedded in it. Several attempts to get into Harvard Law School had proved abortive in the past, and now, with one final trail, he had scaled the daunting odds that calls itself examination, and was now ready for the interview phase. The eve before his big hurdle, he basked in the company of his friends. He had a certain knack that this was his time. 'Moreover,' he poundered, 'Obama's success story has killed the racial condurum in America.' He tried to remain confidence. His rich educational prowess in Nigeria was enough to get him to his holy grail. As the day gave way to the paltry but soothing brightness only the moon can muster, Emeka laid on his bed. He tried to conjure sleep, but expectations about tommorow would not allow his head to rest in solace. He switched off the light, but sleep remained elusive. He simply gazed at the darkness and followed every movement of the clock. The big day finally came and Emeka began his earnest preparations. As he dressed himself to perfection, he heard the knob of the door hurriedly moved to the right. There was his American room mate, Jason Michael. 'Stop decieving yourself Emeka. You are black and can never be admitted into Harvard. How can't you see it?' Jason asked with an expression that made his case sound valid. Emeka remained undettered. 'I have come too far to give in to such pessimism' he muttered as he left the house swiftly. They were about 50 that came for the interview on the day, and much to his chagrin, he was the only black. He was even more stunned to know that of the 5,000 applicants that made it to the interview stage, he was the only African. 'Whatever happened to the Obama renaissance?' he rhetorically uttered. Also, all the other interviewees had their moment before him. But, he called that an oversight. Finally, his time was here. 'Emeka Nwigwe' the white secetary pronunced his name with an accent that betrayed the name. Emeka walked into the room to the twelve preying white faces that feasted on him. 'You all look scary,' he said within himself. One of the interviewers offered him a seat with a courtesy that had disdain written all over it. As he sat, he tried to keep a straight face, but fear and exictement made a meal of his looks. As they studied his resumé, he prayed within himself. Finally, one of the white faces spoke. 'For a black guy, I must say that this is an impressive application.' He took that as a compliment. 'But,' the white face continued, 'You are black and we can't guaranty the sanity and civility of you black minds. We are sorry, try applying at other universities.' Emeka felt his ears were playing pranks on him. He took a long glance at the twelve white faces, and in disbelief, he used the door. As he walked home, he saw a sticker at the back of a parked bus that read 'Goodbye to racism, this is America.' Emeka ran to the bus and to the amazement of the pedestrians, tore the sticker. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by three white police officers. As they whisked him away, he heard one of them say 'You black people are never proper humans.'

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