and the family eats indoors. Every
funeral I ever went to, I ate indoors.
It didn’t matter if we knew the
deceased or not. The family would
see me and invite me in.
“Awunakuvumela umntana
womlungu ame ngaphandle. Yiza
naye apha ngaphakathi,” they’d
say. “You can’t let the white child
stand outside. Bring him in here.”
As a kid I understood that
people were different colors, but in
my head white and black and brown
were like types of chocolate. Dad
was the white chocolate, mom was
the dark chocolate, and I was the
milk chocolate. But we were all just