https://electricliterature.com/whyteface-by-a-igoni-barrett/
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““Congrats on your tear-rubber Nigerian kpali.”
““So you like our beer,” said the chief.”
“A flash of dizziness jarred his vision as he sat back up; he shot out his free hand to brace himself against the air.”
“He bent down and gathered up his passport, airline ticket, and Airbnb reservation, which had all flown onto the floor.”
“Whyteface , while very much its own story, checks in on Furo/Frank four years later.”
“At last he seized the Uber driver’s shoulder from behind.”
“Slick with sweat, his hand was white rather than bloody: He was unhurt and could still make his flight.”
“Just bring the suitcase.”
““Sixteen kilos,” the male attendant muttered to his colleague.”
“The older woman looked fatigued and limped with each step, as if from a cramped foot.”
“Contribute to Electric Lit Help keep the lights on.”
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“The Uber driver had likewise found his voice.”
“He is embarking on a European vacation—a voyage into the heart of whiteness, you might say.”
“His mistake was forgetting that Lagos traffic could make you late to your own funeral.”
“The panic he felt after the crash had congealed in his throat into a bolus of frustration.”
““Place your checked baggage on the marked spot,” she said.”
“I’ve visited your country before.”
““All right, that’s the queue there,” said the attendant with a flippant wave of his hand, “but only ticket holders are allowed.”
“His reverie was broken by the scent of beer.”