A neighbor, who has been an ardent trump supporter ever since he launched his candidacy, waves out to me. I barely wave back.
"Long time, no see" she says.
"Yep. I was away for three weeks in a shithole country to visit my folks," I replied with a straight face.
Or, at least, that is the scene that has been playing in my head more than a few times, ever since "shithole" became the latest about this president.
I think about the people from African countries that I have interacted with over the years and became friends with them. It is a list that starts back from graduate school, with Kayode. We both had remarkably identical interests and outlook on life. We always had a great time together. Seth from Ghana was always a happy guy with a huge grin. They have had meals that I cooked, and I have had their foods. And that was from the first couple of years in graduate school. And so many since then.
A few years ago, thanks to the friend, I invited over for dinner two visitors from Haiti. We had a wonderful evening. Jean André was so refined, professorial, and an elder statesman. The other Haitian was much younger than him and was so respectful of his older and much more accomplished compatriot.
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