Author: Delight Ejiaka
My green passport exposes me everytime. It is the deadly, poisonous hue of green. My hands have been infected from clutching it the entire plane ride.
The customs officer was staring at my face, searching for signs of venom. Another vermin scrabbling for food in this enormous garbage dump. I did not tell him that the garbage dump is several centuries old and every item can be traced back to lands across the sea where resources have been excavated for centuries and remodeled into the glorified landfill that we all sit atop.
“I am just here for my national cake.”
“Nothing. I said nothing.”
He looked at me curiously. “Yeah! This one is definitely a dupe.”
“Can I see your documents?”
I handed him my passport and the other white papers. He turned over the booklet and we saw it. The foul odor emanating from that 32 page book. As he flipped through my non-existent travel history, the green darkened. This is the only place I have been, is here. I wanted to tell him. Too late for that. He was leafing through the pile of white sheets I just handed to him.
“Where are you headed?”
I searched my head for the word. I knew it was not theirs. My history teacher said it belonged to the owners of the land.
He started laughing. “It is Chattanooga.”
“The word is not English.” I said. Neither of us can pronounce it.
“You’re not American,” he said.
Neither are you. I muttered under my breath and looked away.
He passed me a form, “Sign here.”
“I don’t see myself here. I am neither of the three.” I said.
“Check Alien” he said.
He looked up, rolled his eyes and handed me my smelly green passport.
I shut and checked the box.