I remember how, a few days after my visit to Sarahs, Auma and I happened to run into an acquaintance of the Old Mans outside Barclays Bank. I could tell that Auma didnt remember his name, so I held out my hand and introduced myself. The man smiled and said, My, my-you have grown so tall. Hows your mother? And your brother Mark-has he graduated from university yet?
At first I was confused. Did I know this person? And then Auma explained in a low voice that no, I was a different brother, Barack, who grew up in America, the child of a different mother. David had passed away. And then the awkwardness on all sides-the man nodding his head (Im sorry, I didnt know) but taking another look at me, as if to make sure what hed heard was true; Auma trying to appear as if the situation, while sad, was somehow the normal stuff of tragedy; me standing to the side, wondering how to feel after having been mistaken for a ghost...
http://ilikeobama.blogspot.com.au/2013/01/barack-obama-dreams-from-my-father-49.html
This statement is meant to separate [me] from [me]...