They try to snob you when you don’t speak “proper” French or look down on you when you don’t speak the queens English. Then you have black Americans who look at Africans like we are from another planet with “speak English man” meaning I don’t sound American.
So way back when I was a college student in Madison, Wisconsin I looked forward to the roll call of my first classes. I enjoyed watching the professors struggle with pronouncing my name and no I wasn’t going to make it easy on them like my friends who all of a sudden started using their christian names.
Those that had no christian names went from Fatai to Fredrick or Mudashiru to Micheal or Bashiru to Bernard and so on. Muslims became Christians by default in the quest to fit in the American culture. So Peter, Paul, Micheal, Francis and John became the new vogue.
It felt odd that when we roamed the streets of Ibadan I called him Lekan now in college and amongst our American friends I call him Bernard. So I used my classroom as the forum to teach Yoruba, my language. I knew the professors would always ask if they pronounced my name properly. I would always answer no then proceed to teach the class how to pronounce my name and the story behind my name. I always felt proud walking around campus and referred to as a Nigerian by fellow students, that in my name is my story. Then again it made me popular with the girls.
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