A Nigerian Man Wakes Up White and Voyages Into the Heart of Whiteness
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An excerpt from Whyteface by A. Igoni Barrett
Four years after skipping town, Frank Whyte was back in Lagos traffic, from which none escapes once caught. It was another hot night in June, and he was slouched in the back seat, the oga’s corner, of an air-conditioned Cerato when the smash and grind of metal on metal flung him against the front headrest. His forehead burned from the impact and his ears rang from the blare of the traffic now pouring through the shattered rear window. Pebbles of
Four years after skipping town, Frank Whyte was back in Lagos traffic, from which none escapes once caught. It was another hot night in June, and he was slouched in the back seat, the oga’s corner, of an air-conditioned Cerato when the smash and grind of metal on metal flung him against the front headrest. His forehead burned from the impact and his ears rang from the blare of the traffic now pouring through the shattered rear window. Pebbles of
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