Miles and miles away from our country, in the city of Vienna, Austria, we meet a young man from Equatorial Guinea. We exchange pleasantries, my son more enthusiastic than the rest of us-as usual. To my son’s surprise, our fellow African brother has never heard of Botswana. Naturally, we explain that it borders South Africa and Zimbabwe. The brother lights up at the mention of Zimbabwe, this one he knows , he even mentions the former president. My husband and I are not ready for what ensues.

“I hate Zimbabweans! They steal my grandmother’s cattle,” interjects our lovely son. Lord! Don’t we just wish the ground swallows us or the metro door opens so our brother gets off. Neither happens so we have to undo the damage. It is indeed true that his grandmother’s cattle have been stolen by Zimbabweans, on several occasions. However, not all Zimbabweans are thieves. We now have a teaching moment. We mention some of his Zimbabwean friends and ask if they have ever stolen anything from him-of course not. Now he knows that he cannot accuse the whole country of cattle theft. He also knows that it is offensive to blurt out such statements. We have no intentions of raising a xenophobic child.

Recent events in the United States left me pondering on why racism doesn’t seem to end and if there’s any hope that it will end soon. I like to consider myself as an optimist but on this particular issue, I feel hopeless. See, in my country race wasn’t an issue until recently, when news emerged that it was rampant in the hospitality industry. It is a foreign concept to us. Reality struck me when we relocated to Europe.

Late last year I got an opportunity to teach Grades 5 and 6 in Pécs,Hungary. I was elated that we were going to have a great cultural exchange. Yes, we did and I had a rude awakening. In one of my first classes, I asked my students if they would want to visit Africa, well, I got a resounding Noooo! But why?

“Africa is dry and poor”

“Are there any rich people in Africa?”

“Children in Africa are starving”

Interesting 🧐! As a good teacher I tried to disabuse them. I went on to tell them about the other side of Africa, especially about my own country, Botswana. However, I cannot confidently confirm that they believed my side of the story. In their opinion, I am in their country because I have fled from something terrible in Africa. Mind you, these are mere kids, who is feeding them this false information? Your guess is as good as mine.

Funny how I related these experiences to an American friend recently, before the protests in the US. We were in stitches. One student wanted to know where I was working back home. When I told him I worked for Parliament he asked if I was a cleaner. That caught me off guard but when I regained composure, I laughed uncontrollably. “Is that the best job you could give me?” I asked. He just shrugged his shoulders.

Mashi ke tswa thobeng ke le phepha, selabe se tla le motsaakgamelo (loosely translated the milk is pure from the udder but it is contaminated by the carrier). I could never be hard on these little ones. They are still learning. Someone is training them to value human race in terms of pigmentation. How do I forget the day I brought to class a new phone? There was a huge debate that it must be fake because I clearly couldn’t afford it. I laughed about it then but on second thoughts, these kids, if not properly guided will be racist adults. They are the future security guard who follows me closely when I’m doing grocery shopping in Spar and demands to search my handbag at all times. They are the policeman who believes every black person is born a criminal and therefore worthy to be wiped off the face of the earth.

What kind of world do we want for future generations? If we want peace we can work on it now by investing in our kids.