Sweet Sixteen 21: Stereotype Contd

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They are “Well, Hitler Was a Christian, and I have not heard anyone blame Christianity for his evil,”Mummy interjected. “Well, that is true,” Daddy said. “There are about 1.6 billion Muslims in the world.

The majority of us just want to do our thing. We cannot kill anybody. It is only a small minority with their own political agenda that are doing these things.

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They may use Islam to justify their crimes, but just like your mummy said, people have also used the Bible or the Torah to justify-all kinds of evil.

I believe that no true religion of God supports the killing of innocent people.” “Another point to note also is that Boko Haram has been bombing mosques too, and killing Muslims as well. These are just mad people,” Mummy added. “Exactly,” Daddy agreed.

“They probably have even killed more Muslims. Like those ones that exploded a bomb around the Prophet’s mosque in Medina…” “0-oh! Are those ones Muslims too? These are just bloodthirsty maniacs,”Mummy interjected, almost angrily. We all kept quiet for a while.

Mummy stood up and pulled her chair away slightly, so as to have more room. I wasn’t done. “But why do Christians think their religion is better than our own?” “There you go, Aliya. Now you are also talking like Rebecca,” Daddy said. “But how? How am I talking like Rebecca?”I protested. “You said Christians think their own religion is better than ours. But Christians do not think their religion is better.

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Some Christians you have met, think their religion is better.” “Oh, okay, I see,” I stuttered, slightly embarrassed that he caught me out so easily. “Now, you can see how easy it is for anyone to fall into the stereotype trap. So, Aliya, you need to guard against it. Don’t make up your mind about people before you have had the opportunity to meet them and assess them fully. Chances are that you might be wrong.” “I understand.

But I am not like Rebecca.” “I didn’t say you were like her, I only compared what you said with what she said. Besides, I don’t think this Rebecca girl is a bad person as such. How people think is mostly a result of the kind of thinking they have been exposed to.

Maybe if you engage her, you can help to correct her misconceptions about things like these.” “Oh, that one? She will not even listen.” “Come on, don’t be so dismissive. You see, in this life, you will meet all kinds of people. Some people we think they are bad, but it may actually be that they need our help. Sometimes what we need is to rise above our personal feelings and sentiments so that we can help others to see another way of looking at the world.”

“It is not always easy though,”Mummy said. Daddy placed a hand on her shoulder. “I am not suggesting that it is easy. That is why it requires us to rise. above ourselves. Okay, I will tell you a story.” “Story story,” Mummy hummed as she grabbed her phone from the table and made to rise. “Sit down now,” Daddy told her. “I thought you said you were not going to work today.” “Yes, I am not. But I want to go to the hairdressing salon.”

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“Sit down, there is still time. It’s not even twelve yet,” Daddy cajoled her and glanced at his wristwatch. “Okay. Let me listen to story,”Mummy said and sat back down. “Aliya, make sure you clean up the kitchen before I come back from the salon o.” “Yes, Mummy.” “Okay, Mr. Bello, let’s hear your story,” Mummy said as she leaned back and folded her arms. “Many years ago, during the era of the slave trade. A group of European slave traders attacked a village on the coast of West Africa and grabbed all the inhabitants, men, women, children, and made away with them on their ship.

Inside the ship, the women and the children continued to wail, the slave traders descended on their captives, beating them mercilessly into submission. Those that had the courage to challenge the slavers were killed and thrown overboard. The chief of the slavers was particularly mean. He appeared to derive sadistic pleasure in humiliating and abusing his victims. Not even women and children were spared from his acts of cruelty.”

Daddy picked up his bottle of water and took a long, slow sip. I wondered where the story was going. “The slavers continued to rape, torture and kill. The ship continued to sail away on its miserable way. Then one night, in the midst of the unfathomable darkness of a vast ocean, a terrible storm began to rage.

Thunder clapped and rumbled, sending long lashes of terrifying electricity across the black night. The sea roared and roiled like giant anacondas, squeezing the life out of their victims. The women shrieked, the children cried. And the slavers panicked with terror. Then, in one terrible moment, one anaconda wave just seized the ship and tore it into shreds, as if it were not thicker than a piece of paper. Every single one of them died — captives and captors alike.

Every one, except two persons — the white chief of the slave traders and one of the enslaved black men. Somehow, the two found themselves on an isolated island in the middle of nowhere. The chief slaver had broken an arm and a couple of other bones. He was in such a bad state that he could barely move a finger.

The black man on his part, was hale and hearty, apart from the wounds inflicted on him by the white man, who had now become his companion in misery.” Daddy paused to ask us, “You know what the black man did afterwards?” We said no. He then pointed at me and said, “Aliya, if you were him, what would you do? This was a man who enslaved and tortured and committed all manner of atrocities against other men, women and children that you knew and cared for. Now he was at your mercy; what would you do?” “Well, I guess that would be a great opportunity for me to revenge,” I said. Then he turned to Mummy. “What about you?” “He would soon be dead anyway.

So, I would just leave him there and find my way,”Mummy answered. “That’s what you two would do? Well, I guess that is what most of us would do. But do you know what the black man did? He nursed his enslaver back to health. And every single day that they were in that unknown island, he would forage for food and ensure that they both had something to eat.

One day, when the white man had recovered enough to fully understand the misfortune that had befallen him, he asked his companion, ‘Who are you?’ ‘I was one of your captives,’ the black man answered. After that introduction, the two men did not speak to each other for days. They ate whatever they could find, mostly wild fruits and some rodents, but each one generally minded his business.

Then, one day, the white man asked his former captive, ‘But, why did you decide to help me? Why didn’t you just kill me, after all the evil things I did to you and your people?’ ‘It is not my place to punish you for whatever sin you may have committed. But it is my duty to help another human being who needs my help.’

The white man went silent for a long time. Then, he said ‘That makes you a better human being than me.’ To which the black man answered, ‘I am who I am. You are who you are.’ Soon after, they were rescued by a merchant ship. When the ship arrived at its destination, they both went their separate ways, never to see again. When the white slaver returned to his country, he resolved to dedicate the rest of his life to fighting against the evil of slavery and the slave trade. That is the end of my story.”

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