We (all) just wanted to make it. Make it out of the filthy, dusty streets of refugee camps. And in any sense, we (the displaced colonized intellectuals) have “MADE IT.” I mean, look at us. Look at you. Look at we who safely crossed borders.
We. The luckier ones. We—who played our cards at the right time, the right moment in our limited existence. Don’t be mad. Take it however you want. Look at us.
How blind of us? How blind of you?
Our Christian upbringing led us to absurd conclusions, misguided philosophies about life in the West.
How blind of YOU?
Ignorant fools. Do you even remember promises you made to your comfortably colonized congregations, your last week in the camp? Ohh, so you were doing it to show off?
The center of the universe, that day, in front of the colonized congregation, you were. Is that all you ever wanted out of your life? If it is. Congratulation.
Good for you.
I hope to see you soon—you holy colonized sauls. On the day of trial, my schedule will clear.
Between Life and Death: Between New York and Toronto (I pray to meet you soon).