So you thought there are so many blacks out in Brazil that there is so much Samba and less ado about skin colour, right? Well, Kenyan woman Claire Nasike Akello has learnt her lessons and what she shares should help prepare you, yes, you African - if you ever want to go out there.
I was racially profiled in Brazil. Yo! At an international airport. Let me tell you, this is the last thing I expected from this South American country.
Of course, I was aware of the racism given their history, but I thought I would come here, do my work, dance a little samba, and go home.
Shock on me!
At the immigration checkpoint in Aeroporto Internacional de Guarulhos, I handed over my Kenyan passport. The officer looked at it, then at me. Then back at the passport. She started flipping through the pages slowly, methodically, as if trying to catch me in something.
After about ten minutes of silence and suspicion, she called over a colleague. They both scrutinized my passport without saying a word, then walked off with it.
I asked what the issue was.
They said, “Nothing.”
Let that sink in.
An African lady. In a foreign country. Separated from her passport. Given no reason. Just told to wait.
I followed them. They told me to stay put. I waited 30 minutes.
Eventually, one of them returned and asked me to follow her. She took me to a bench where two Nigerian men and four men who looked Asian were also seated—passport-less, for the Nigerians.
The Nigerian next to me asked where I was from. I said, “Kenya.” He nodded and went quiet.
We didn’t have to say it out loud—we all knew what was happening. And why.
After sitting there for two minutes, I stood up and went to another immigration officer. The two who had taken my passport were nowhere to be found.
I asked the officer where they had taken it. He said he’d check. I waited again. Twenty more minutes gone.
Then came a man in jeans and a black T-shirt with a police badge, walking in with an immigration officer holding my passport. They walked straight past me and cleared the Asian-looking men first. Then they came to me.
Again, I asked, “What’s the problem? Is it my visa, is it the passport itself?”
Again, they said, “No problem.”
But we both knew that wasn’t true.
The female immigration officer then handed my passport to another desk to “clear me.” That officer too took her sweet time flipping through it, as if she was still trying to find an excuse to hold me back.
Meanwhile, I had a connecting flight in 30 minutes. I missed it. No explanation. No apology. Just quiet indifference.
Qatar Airways, to their credit, were understanding. They rebooked me on the next flight at 16:40. By that point, I was drained mentally and physically.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I boarded my domestic Azul flight to Recife. There wasn’t a single announcement in English. Every time I asked what was being said by the pilot and the cabin crew, I was met with a blank stare that said, “No English.”
I sat there in silence, completely shut out, hoping I’d at least get to my destination.
I finally reached my hotel in Recife 40 hours after leaving Nairobi. Humiliated. Exhausted. Angry.
Not because I did anything wrong.
But because I’m African.
Let’s call what it is: Racial Profiling.
This is how it works: They isolate Black people, especially those of African origin, whom they suspect of smuggling drugs. They hold you, delay you, let you miss your flights, and watch you. Why? Because they think you’ve swallowed drugs and they’re waiting for you to excrete them.
That’s the silent procedure.
Delay. Intimidate. Observe.
So let me ask: Does being Black/African automatically mean we must be drug traffickers?
Does carrying a Kenyan or Nigerian passport make us criminals by default?
This isn’t immigration control. It’s racial harassment dressed up as border security.
Yet this is the reality many African and Black travellers face. You don’t have to be guilty of anything—just Black.
Embassy of Brazil in Nairobi, the Brazilian authorities at Guarulhos International Airport may not say it loud, but their actions speak volumes. They profile Black people, they humiliate us, and it needs to stop.
This personal account was originally shared on Facebook