Something in his demeanor changed with my questions, and when he looked at me, it was different. He was really looking at me now. I thought the Elias of the past thirty minutes would be a problem, but this intensity was enough to set my insides on fire. “In psychology, and yes, I did. I finished it this past May. The master’s was in cultural psychology, actually.”

“Oh, that’s great. Tell me about it,” I encouraged as I worked on my breakfast.

He seemed unsure, like he couldn’t quite believe I wanted to hear about his degree, but after a second he conceded. “I’m interested in studying the psychological effects of colonization in Eastern Africa. Particularly masculinity, misogyny, and how that’s impacted our social constructs around gender.”

Whoa.

“What exactly are you looking at?” I asked, my food suspended in the air as I waited for his answer.

“Are you sure you want hear about it?” He cocked his head to the side, again hitting me with a piercing look. He was sizing me up. Figuring out if I was really interested, or just humoring him.

“Absolutely,” I said honestly, and boy, was I unprepared for what happened next.

Elias leaned in, those brown eyes focused on my face, his body primed to unleash all the words he was holding inside. When he spoke, the passion there almost knocked me over.

“Ethiopia was never colonized, although we were occupied by Italy in the 1930s,” he explained before continuing, “and even though East Africa wasn’t impacted by the transatlantic slave trade as West Africa was, the brutalities of colonization were felt far and wide here. It changed the course of our history in so many ways.”

For an instant, I wondered if he was about to get loud and preachy. But instead he grabbed his cup again and spoke in a low but serious voice. “I’d like to look into how that collective trauma has impacted our concept of masculinity, and how it factors into violence against women and children. Along the lines of the work of Frantz Fanon.” He looked at me intensely, clearing his throat, then smiled ruefully. “Sorry, this is not exactly light conversation. It can be heavy.”

“Not at all.” He gave me a look that clearly said yeah, right, but I insisted, “I’m serious. My best friend Lucía is a big fan of Fanon—she gave me The Wretched of the Earth to read in college, and it sort of blew my mind.”