I was early for the Sunday service in church. As the choir made finishing touches to their tunes and equipment, I sat back and paged through the church brochure. I could sense the lady seated beside me was looking at me. She averted my eyes each time I looked in her direction, but as soon as I looked away, she would cast another peek at me. I wondered if everything was okay. Anyways, I tried to concentrate on the brochure. Finally, she managed to initiate a discussion. “eerm! Are you African?” she asked. I had looked around earlier. I was the only black man in the building, at least for all I could see. I might as well be and African-American, so her question was not all that out of place. I answered affirmatively. I have always been proud of my African roots, despite the barrage of problems that plague my beloved continent, of which some are self-inflicted. “Yes, I am, why?” I said staring here straight in the eye. “Do you have drinking water there?” She asked. I was visibly ir...