A Stranger at My Table
Реклама. ООО «ЛитРес», ИНН: 7719571260.
Оглавление
Ivo de Figueiredo. A Stranger at My Table
Отрывок из книги
A Stranger at My Table
Ivo de Figueiredo
.....
Like most youngsters, I never stopped to ask why the world was as it was. Nobody we knew ate curry, nobody went to London. Yet it never occurred to me that we were very different than anybody else. I knew that my skin made me stand out, but never felt it had bearing on who I was, or that this difference might have an actual name. But when my brothers and I heard that the townsfolk of Porsgrunn poked fun at the people from the rural hamlet of Bamble, calling them Bamble-Indians, it gave us pause. We knew Mum had been born in Bamble, so we reasoned that if anybody could be true Bamble-Indians, it must be us. What was the alternative? Half-Indian? Was there such a word? And to add to the confusion, Dad had told us that we weren’t actually Indian, we were Goan. And from Africa. And that we were British. And Portuguese. And Norwegian. It was all too much for us to grasp, so Bamble-Indian seemed as good as anything.
The truth was, I wasn’t too bothered about my skin color as a child. Nor do I remember it bothering anyone else. The only exception being the time I got into a playground fight with Bønna. In the tense moment of silence when the last swearword had been spent and the fists were about to come out, he suddenly blurted out:
.....