Teaching Noah | √

027

“YOU KNOW, IT'S super irritating when people find out I’m South African and go ahead to ask why I’m white then,” you could tell Lennon was irritated. The expression on her face was dour as she pulled her hair in a band.

“I—”

“And for those who are actually smart to realize it still makes me African, they ruin the whole show by asking if we’ve got Wi-Fi and water back home.”

“I—”

“Or worse, they ask if we live in the same houses with elephants. I’m so sick of it.”

By this time, I’d completely mixed up all my thoughts, and everything I wanted to say to her flew right off my head. I wasn’t new to this rant, even though I wouldn’t call it a rant. On some occasions, I had been with Lennon when derogatory comments were made about her race. It was annoying, to say the least, and I just didn’t understand it. Why couldn’t we just live? I liked to think of a world where there was no such thing as race, gender, sexuality… where people were just what they were.

People. No division.

I looked at Lennon who was now rubbing her head in frustration. How many other people felt like this in America?

I moved to rub Lennon’s shoulder, “You know, there are two sets of ignorant people in the world. The people who are ignorant to themselves. They genuinely don’t know, and maybe they’re willing to know, then there are those who know they are ignorant, but choose to shun it.”

“In this modern world? That’s sick.”

“We can also blame the media. They never show the beautiful side. Always one bad thing or the other."

“That's the sad part. There are so many beautiful places and countries to visit, though."

I smiled and pulled her into a hug, “We’re going to go to all those places together. On our own tour.”

“Speaking of tours, those artistes who go on world tours never even get to Africa.”

I laughed and Lennon joined me. “I’ve thought about that too.”

“I get too in my feelings about it sometimes,” Lennon sighed.

“It’s completely fine. These issues are exhausting.”

“Isn’t Noah coming today?”

I nodded in response, “He is.”

Mom slid two plates of pancakes in front of us, “Pancakes for you two.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said the same time Lennon said, “Thanks, Maddie.”

“Syrup?” She looked from me to Lennon.

“Strawberry, please,” Lennon nodded.

“Yuck,” I wrinkled my nose and went to grab an almost empty tube of Hershey’s  chocolate syrup while Mom handed Lennon a strawberry one.

“I’ll make do with what is in here,” I told Mom, referring to the syrup.

“How do you not like strawberry syrup? Like, this is where it’s at,” she squirted some syrup on her pancakes, and I shook my head as I took a bite of my pancake.

We heard Mom’s voice from the living room and shortly, Noah walked into the kitchen.

“Hi Noah,” me and Lennon greeted in unison to which he replied, “Hey guys.”

He dropped his backpack on the island table and began to rummage through it. I knew he was looking for his glasses.

“So, how’s your boyfriend?” I heard Lennon ask.