Color-blindness (Part IV)

Walking from The Curve to Cineleisure some weeks ago with Afham, we passed a mini-extreme sports exhibition sponsored by 100PLUS. To my surprise, one of the crew members took the liberty to walk over to me — which he may not have had Afham not been preoccupied with a phone call — and…

100PLUS: Hi! How are you?
Me: (already wary) Fine…
100PLUS: I remember you. I saw you at Sunway Pyramid a few weeks ago.
Me: (convinced the man was lying) Sunway Pyramid?
100PLUS: (gesturing to rock-climbing structure) Yeah, you were standing outside where we had this same event too.
Me: (realizing, abashed, that he was referring to the day of the Korea Sparkling B.Boy Competition at Sunway Pyramid back in May) Oh, that one! Yeah, I was there… I remember all this too…
100PLUS: Yeah, yeah! What’s your name, by the way?
Me: Sandra.
100PLUS: (eyebrows shooting up) Oh, Sandra! You’re Chindian, are you?
Me: Excuse me?
100PLUS: (repeating question as though I were deaf) Are you Chindian?
Me: No, I’m just Chinese.
100PLUS: Really? And your name is Sandra?
Me: (adopting the well-practiced air of indignance) Is that not a valid name for a Chinese?
100PLUS: No, no, I just thought you were Chindian because of your name.

By this time, Afham had ended his phone conversation and was laughing fit to be tied, proceeding to pull me away from the impertinent man in case I did more damage.

To 100PLUS’s credit, he was the first person ever to assume that I was of Chinese-Indian parentage. With that new addition, the Mistaken Races list currently stands as such:


Yes, French, as assumed, much to Afham’s amusement, by one of his own friends. I tell Afham he’s not one to talk (or laugh): he himself was recently mistaken for being Burmese.

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