Why Are You Black?

by Bete Fulle (Ethiopia)

A leap into the unknown Russia

Getting a visa out of Africa even for a while is extremely challenging – visa on arrival or even e-visa is unthinkable. Thus you have to apply for a visa in your own country which you have to present half a dozen documents just to qualify. Fortunately, I’ve got the visa to Russia. I arrived in Moscow’s Domodedovo airport, then immediately I was accompanied by three police officers and taken to a tiny room with additional three police officers inside. Then, for two and half hours I was intensively interviewed by six police officers. I was asked what I am doing in Russia, whether I am a terrorist or not and other scary questions. I was so exhausted and finally I called a friend who lives in Moscow and she came to the airport security and sign all the police documents, so that if I do any thing illegal she’ll also be responsible. Finally, I was granted an entry to Russia. I stayed awhile in Moscow and decided to visit my best friend Sergey whom I met in India. He lives in a city called Yaroslavl which is a small city with half a million people. I took an early morning train, and after four hours I arrived in Yaroslavl. Sergey was waiting for me just outside of the train station with big and warm smile. It has been a year since we saw each other face to face. During the day we visited Yaroslavl’s attraction, but don’t forget as a black man I was an attraction too. Being stared at is a common thing, even in Moscow. However, here more people took my picture and lots of selfies too – I feel like a… celebrity! Afterwards, it got dark, and waiting for our friends’ arrival from Moscow, Sergey and I went to an old soviet style bar called Afoniya. Then we ordered the bar’s usual which is dry salty fish with a beer. I remember we were discussing cultural differences and then boom! Out of nowhere this guy came and asked me “How do you get burned? Why are you black?” He said it in Russian and luckily for me I know a bit of Russian, and I understood every word he said. Consequently, deafening silence descended on the room. I have never been anywhere as profoundly silent as this. It was so quiet I can hear him breathing. Sergey was shocked and he looked perplexed. Everybody in the bar was looking at me – they looked at me expecting me to fight or reply something bad, but I laughed until I cried, and then laughed more! I was speechless; I had no idea what to reply. Shall I say because I was born in mud, or shall I say I am from a fire nation – we are all burned, or maybe too much coffee. I had no idea! However, I collected my thoughts and I replied to him “Потому что я оригинален” which means “because I am original.” I am from Ethiopia which is the cradle of humanity. Somehow we’re all Ethiopians. Meanwhile I wondered how it was four hundred years ago when Abraham Gannibal, Ethiopian, who traveled to Russia. He became a military engineer and then a general. Later he married a Russian princess which his great grandson becomes Alexander Pushkin, Russia’s number one poet. Pushkin means everything to Russia; you will find museums, statues, street names, metro stations, everything named after him. I wondered how Abraham became successful? And I wondered when is better now or then?