True Customer Tales: A Very Black Man

There's been a guy around town for a few months I've wondered about, very tall, stick thin and very, very black. Like the black men we saw in Paris, Africans with skin like obsidian.
He was walking the Crazy Beat around downtown, but didn't fit the image, always wearing a fresh dress shirt and not obviously deranged.

He finally wandered in today, proving conclusively that my judgement is something less than infallible. It was tough to decipher his stream of verbiage- he had a profound accent and spoke very quickly, but he was at it for about 15 minutes and I was able to decipher some bits that he kept repeating.
Here's a small sample, which reads more comprehensibly than it sounded in person.

Use those chemicals on their eyes, until they get to New York, and Santa Barbara, and then THIS city. And looking for a woman my height, and they not answer my QUESTION, in Santa Barbara. The only visible technology they see is guns. They framed me for trespassing, and I ended up in a jail.

The children suffering...and in Africa, I didn't even know those children with the chemicals in their eye...I wasn't even sure what it was. When I get to New York, when I get to San Fransisco, make me forget what's in MY head. I didn't come from Africa rich, see? People in Africa, they're killed by weapons, they lose their resources, no electricity. People in other states, they be making machines, and guns. But they don't have the knowledge. There are people in Canada too, with guns!

I let him go on for a while, but customers were wanting things and he's not one who understands the boundaries of a store, so I had to break into his speech and tell him it was time to move on. He left, but came back a few minutes later. Another customer, and I made some chatter about how tragic it all was, but I had to get back to work. His gravely disappointed look before exiting the second time made me feel worse than it had any right to.
But he hasn't been back.