"Mmmhmmm," I started with an accusatory tone.
"Maaan, Malaaaiiika," his words drawn out in typical fashion, "I've been trying to reaach you and you just ignoring aaalll my calls."
I laughed with him. As usual, I couldn't be mad at him for long. He flirted as we talked, and though I had an urge to tell him how much I liked him, I was smugly satisfied at my discipline when I decided against it.
Sak and I were members of the same church. It was rooted in black liberation theology, a type of Christianity that arose during the 1960s black power movement, and our pastors preached about social justice and self-determination. Our vision was to provide food and land to a subjugated people in desperate need of economic power.
We first crossed paths in 1999 when he came Atlanta for a brief visit, and I remember his raspy voice and his Allen Iverson-inspired cornrows. We didn't exchange words, but I was intrigued. I found out his name meant "The Lord Agrees." I agreed too.
By the time I saw him again, at a convention in Detroit in the summer of 2000, he had chopped off the braids. I had put some in: extensions of several cornrows with large wooden beads at the end. I was an angsty teen, with a hippie-ish mom who didn't believe in brand names, but I persuaded her to buy me a pair of Nike Air Force Ones and baggy, low-rise dark-rinse Levis. I started wearing belly chains and toe rings.
In whatever age-appropriate way teens can flirt in a church setting, it became clear that Osakwe and I were feeling each other. I looked for him to be my dance partner at every party that weekend, and I feared that the dark rinse from my jeans would transfer to his pants, revealing ou
Seeking Female
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| Gender | Male | |
| Age | 34 | |
| Location | South Africa, Western Cape, Khayelitsha | |
| 🌈 Sexuality | Straight | |
