Im at the hairdresser in Duncan this morning. A woman gets her hair done in the opposite corner. Her son in his mid-twenties sits besides her, his incisors decayed to stumps. The rest of the gang, half White, half Indian, that does not inspire too much trust hang around in front of the door in a corner of the scruffy mall. The son begins to talk to me. Despite my resentments I try to be unbiased. He explains his big family. His mother has got five children, one of his sisters as well, and he is expecting his second one. The family with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren comprise 28 members, 12 live together with the mother. I talk about my family. The young man disappears quickly for a while. When returning, he presses a coloured Indian beaver carving into my hand. It is a present for my family at home, and he has made it himself! Prejudices not a chance!