I used to believe that I was blind to ethnicity much in the same way that some White people say they don’t see race: then sometime last year my father was arrested. As well wishers reached out to commiserate, their words were often colored with ethnic hatred.

At CID one afternoon as I was trying to keep my father’s blood pressure down, the conversation in the room changed.

Those present felt they were in a safe space so they began to speak freely. When they spoke it was not of right and wrong or justice: it was about the Mendes. 

Months before a Mende man had tried to tell me about how he and his family had experienced ethnic prejudice in Sierra Leone. While I did listen, there was a part of me that refused to believe that ethnicity really mattered here. 

After all I had grown up in a family of very mixed ethnic heritage including Krio, Yoruba, Temne, Fula, and yes even some Mende. When I returned home to Freetown after college in 2007 I had friends of every ethnicity so what was this Mende prejudice? 

The thing about prejudice is that for most of us, it sits in our blind spot—passive, until someone lifts the veil from over our eyes.

During my father’s ordeal the language that I heard from those who said they empathized—dehumanized Mendes. Most of what I heard was hate speech. 

“Yu noh no say Na so dem wan ya tan? Mende people dem wicked. Di wan way kick yu Daddy Na Mende. Da Uman back way cuz all dis Na Mende. Dis Na Mende Govt. Sontem den go bon yu Daddy im os.”

I tried to explain severally that the incident in Hamilton was in-fact about politics and not ethnicity. My words fell on deaf ears. Everyone was angry for me and they didn’t understand how I was not angry for myself. The thing is their hatred scared me because it made me realize that for many people ethnicity was very real. Not just that, they held deep prejudices against certain groups.

I had to face the hard fact about people I knew and cared for. They hadn’t become prejudiced overnight, they always had been. In the Freetown of my childhood I had been taught many ethnic stereotypes that had lived in my blindspot: 

Fulanis are secretive, can’t be trusted 

Temnes like to quarrel

Limbas are backward

Mendes are mean and arrogant

When I really thought of all the ethnic groups in Sierra Leone, Mendes were the ones that I was raised to fear and dislike. There was nothing overt done or said when I was a young but that Mende man bizness tranga, en dem wicked were things I was raised to believe. I don’t know by whom.

Even as an adult until as recently as last year before my Dad’s arrest I had been in spaces where people had made ethnic jokes and I didn’t challenge them. I too had made jokes that amplified the stereotype: “Mende man biznes tranga”, unaware it was coded language used to disparage Mendes, especially Mendes in positions of authority. 

Tel God Tenki Fo Growth!

The one positive thing to come out of my father’s arrest was that it forced me to acknowledge my ethnic blind spot—I know now that I benefit from Krio privilege—cultural, educational, and societal acceptance that other ethnic groups must unfairly strive to attain. 

As I travel locally to explore culture, history, and identity I do so with a new found reverence for all ethnicities. I also have a deeper awareness and understanding of my own biases. When someone expresses that they have been a victim of prejudice I no longer disregard their experience: I know these things happen to Mendes, Temnes, Fulanis—Everyone!

And these days my eyes and ears are wide open, I have censors to pick up prejudice in public discourse. Which leads me to the reason for this piece of writing. More and more as we disagree on politics and governance too many of you are giving in to your blind spots—allowing differences in opinions to amplify your ethnic prejudices. 

I challenge you to resist your blind spot. Discuss and debate as you like but there should be no room or place for prejudice and ethnic hatred in our public nor private safe spaces in Sierra Leone.

Unlearn the hate.