Page 95 of The Black Flamingo

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I’m Mike. I’m doing English.

I’m from London.

Some, without any prompting,

start talking about their gap year;

how they went to Asia or Africa,

backpacking or volunteering.

I’ve come straight from school

and I’ve not been anywhere but Cyprus

to visit Mum’s family.

I go to the African Caribbean Society.

Most of them are Londoners like me,

but some are international students

from African and Caribbean countries,

some African American and Canadian,

but Londoners are the biggest group.

People talk about being from South

or East London, like that matters here.

“A room of black kids gathered together

and our only similarity is being black,”

I say to Nana, a British-Ghanian girl

from South I just met ten minutes ago.

“But you’re not black, you’re mixed,”

says Nana. “No offense, Mike, but

you said you’re Jamaican and Greek.”

“Greek Cypriot,” I calmly correct her.

“What I mean is: I heard there’s a Greek

Society here. You could go there, too.”

The Hellenic Society caters

to Greek and Greek Cypriot students.

I take a moment at the open door,

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