Written
by
Tambu Kahari.
Introductions are the best way to meet someone. That is because the person who knows the both of you sets you up. Most people meet the perfect partner through a friend or an acquaintance. When you can get the backgrounds and lifestyles to go together, everything else is easy, well, as easy as it can be in a relationship.
Under normal circumstances there are thousands of people trying to hook you up. Sometimes they hit the jackpot and wedding bells peal a year or so later.
Not so for a girl who is thousands of miles away from home and is a minority. No one knows you well enough to introduce you to anyone. And then there is the fact that you are black in a white person’s world. Boy have I had enough of being introduced to Jamaicans. What is even worse is that some of the people introducing me to Jamaicans are not my friends. Sometimes they are the superintendent of the building I live in or the caretaker of said building. They look at me and think about their friends. I usually forgive those men even though they can be a little persistent. They follow me everywhere selling their relative or other to me. I spend a lot of time avoiding them and that can be pretty uncomfortable. I don’t find it so easy to forgive my girlfriends when they make such a mistake as bringing someone to me who isn’t worth my time.
If you could only see the type of people I am forced to socialize with, you would sympathize. I say forced because under normal circumstances, in my home country I would have no use for them. I am not just talking about the dirty, uneducated, ghetto living white men and women who come my way on a frequent basis and want to make me their friend, but also men and women from my homelands who hail from the ghettos and villages and think they know this urban raised daughter of a lawyer.
Most of those men and women from Zimbabwe had no idea what electricity was until they moved overseas. I am not kidding you. I met a man from Zimbabwe who said he saw lights for the first time on his way to the airport in Harare. My grandfather said I was not to associate with men from the rural areas and I agree with him. I would wither and die in that lifestyle.
Then there are those men who try to pretend that class barriers no longer exist because you are both from the same country. We may have shared the same land, but believe me, my reality was not yours. I grew up in the Northern suburbs.
I had a nanny, a gardener and a chauffer. We loved our dogs more than we loved our relatives. We bathed our dogs every Sunday and took them to the vet for check ups on a frequent basis. We cried when our dogs got hurt or they died. We had dinners outside in our garden because my father loved the smell of roses. When he was drunk, he became mushier and made us all smell every flower in the garden. I went to private schools and went on vacations to exotic places around the world. We had lavish birthday parties and amazing Christmas dinners.
That is what I want for my offspring. That is what I believe life is.
When you are an immigrant, you tend to find yourself at the bottom of the totem pole. It is all about “first come, first serve”. Those who came first have more than you and are out of your reach. You find yourself having to associate with the dirty, smelly, uneducated and unexposed people of the country you have migrated to. It is a very lonely and desperate place to be.
This may be hard for you to believe, but, dear Africans, people who live in countries such as the one I am in are not a very clean people. In fact, they rank among the dirtiest human beings I have ever had the misfortune to meet. They also tend to wallow in drugs, sex, illiteracy and total lack of ambition. It boggles the mind how a people could live like that. But live they do and I am forced to be their neighbor by economic circumstances.
A person like me, in a strange land knows very few people of her class who could introduce her to single and available men. What makes it worse is that I am black. When a white friend of mine wants to hook me up, she goes out of her way to find a black man for me, even if he is totally unsuitable. In my case, at this point in my life, he is usually Jamaican, all dreadlocked, uneducated, barely showers, drinks too much and is always high on marijuana.
My girlfriend met this Jamaican man while she was out carousing for sex at some bar. “I found you a guy,” she said.
My heart sank to my very toes! “Oh you did?”
“Yes. I gave him your phone number. I hope you don’t mind but he is great Tambu. He is Jamaican and you know they are good in bed. He is fun and I have known him for some time.”
“How have you known him?” I asked.
“From the bar. We drink together sometimes. He is cool. He is very intelligent. He is gonna call you. Please give him a chance and just have coffee with him.’’
She was my friend and so when Mr. Jamaica called, I agreed to meet him for a quick drink in the afternoon of the following day. I was the first to arrive at the coffee shop. He came in singing, loudly. I mean wailing like Bob Marley and the Wailers. The other patrons were very amused, but not me. I could barely make out his face because he had so much hair. He was dirty. I like my men in suits and clean shaven. He knew me immediately of course because I was the only black woman in the room and he made a beeline for me.
I said to myself, “Oh boy. I have to go.”
I have to say this for Jamaican men. They are very perceptive. From the expression on my face, he knew it wasn’t going to fly.
He said “you are wishing that you don’t know me.”
I said, “I am myopic. I can barely see anything.”
I didn’t have to be told that he was some sort of handyman. I don’t do handymen people, unless if it is the man’s hobby. I felt like sliding under the table and disappearing, but my upbringing demanded that I be polite, interested and nice to him. And so I was. I gave him a good hour in which, in his funny English he told me his life story. I didn’t understand him most of the time. I just nodded and smiled (as you can see, I am very good at that). Somewhere along the line he talked about his drug use. I nodded and smiled again. He told me that I was beautiful (I think every man says that to every woman). I thanked him and smiled. I couldn’t drink my coffee fast enough. When I said I had to go, he asked to see me again, and I told him I was a lesbian.
As I walked back to work I thought about this African American friend of mine who said that white people always set a black friend up with the only black person they know. She said they didn’t take into account the social barriers between the two black people they set up. They just saw colour. How true.
Afterwards, I sat my friends down and said, “Listen girls. I know that one serves white wine with fish. I know that one has to host corporate dinners sometimes so that hubby gets a promotion. I know that one doesn’t cut into a dinner roll, but uses one’s hands to gently tear it apart. I know how to use all the forks and knives and dessert spoons during a formal dinner. I know how to carry on a petty conversation about the weather and weave my way around a room socializing. I know how to hold my emotions in check and do nasty things in private. I know how to stand by my man. But that man has to be a certain class. Otherwise I am no use to him. And he most certainly is no use to me. I want a professional male, regardless of age or race.”
I believe if my girlfriends knew such men, they would introduce them to me. But they don’t.
Willie said that I was too picky. Agreed. She demanded that I tell them what I wanted from any man and after giving it some thought, this is what I said. “I want a man to bite my apple. I want him to be Adam to my Eve.”
In other words, I want him to sin for me. I want him to divorce his wife, quit his job, give up on his country, sell his house, and do whatever he has to do to have me. I want him to go against the whole world for me.
That is a dream and I intend to stand by it because dreams are so much better than reality, don’t you think?
My recommendation for introductions:
They are the best. People usually end up marrying when they have been introduced and I don’t mean by E Harmony website connections. If you can, tell your friends you are looking for a date. Be very honest about who you are. Sometimes we tend to lie about ourselves so that we can blend in. I am so guilty of that. Ever since I went to college and found myself out of my class as it were, I have been lying about who I am so that I could be loved.
I feel if you are truthful about whom you are and what you want, your friends could be the road to a great relationship. They may come up with a wonderful person for you. If not, give them the speech I gave my girls. It is better for you to be honest than to be set up with a singing, drunk Jamaican. Believe me, it ain’t funny.
Enjoy my internet dating story. Next time we go to a church and look at dating within the ranks and then maybe looking for dates at work. I will also share with you the results of my little speech on wanting professional men and how it sent me into the world of lawyers!!
Tambu Kahari is the author of Broken Pillars, The Price of Life, In the Bedroom (co authored with Sally Spencer) and Borrowdale Wives. She is also an award winning journalist and lives in North America. She can be reached at Tapilicious@yahoo.com
I try very hard to be a positive person and never disrespect others, but this post struck a nerve. I could say a lot right now but I will simply say that I think your problem with meeting someone stems from something other than the “lack of available black men”. You place yourself on a pedistal, which is fine, I love to see women with confidence, however when you feel the need to look down at those with less fortunate upbringing, that takes lots away from your character. You seem like an impressive, classy lady and for that I commend you, but there is nothing respectable about someone that cares more about what neighborhood someone is from or what profession they have than they do about the persons character. I am an educated white woman, I have a Masters degree and a Logistics Analyst for the Department of Defense, and I found the love of my life, in a Jamaican man that had a VERY different upbringing than I did. I lived in a nice home in central Florida, successful parents, all of the things you listed that you are accustomed to, and more. As I grew in to an adult though, I learned there is much more to life and love than what a man can provide you with. It is a new age and women now need to make a life for themselves so they can pick a man based on how he treats her, not what he can provide for her or their offspring. I have the most gentle, kind, humble man who has such an appreciation for the things men like you are looking for take for granted. Sure, he is from a very different background, but now, instead of making him feel inferior to me, I am encouraging him and supporting him, helping him become the best man he can be. In my opinion, meeting a man with the drive and will to better himself and take advantage of the opportunities that he may have never had if someone hadn’t saw past the fact that he didn’t come from a wealthy family, that appreciates me and all that I and our country have to offer him, is MUCH more impressive than a man born in to money that has never worked hard, nor does he appreciate those who do.
My advice, think outside of the box. I’m not saying lower your standards…trust me I didn’t, I just chose to focus on the important things like how he is faithful, patient and respectful, not how large his bank account is or what type of family he came from. Try focusing on that…do what it takes to ensure your children have the upbringing you did, do not wait for a man to provide that life to you. Life and love is so much better when you pick a mate based on his character, not on material things.
Brandi. My mother married a man from a very poor family while she was from a very wealthy one. She nurtured him the way you are nurturing your husband. By the time we were born, my father was this very successful and ambitious man. Do you know what he did with is new found status in life? He divorced my mother. I could go on and on about women like my mother and what happened to them. I say, you are stronger than. I want a man who is made already,so that I don’t have to suffer the pain of seeing him with another woman when I helped him get where he is.
The thing about men you work on…. They don”t stay!! That has been my experience. Having said that, good luck with your marriage and I loved your post. Kisses!!