(Written in Wakiso)
“White person.”
“Rich Person.”
“Foreigner.”
Somehow all these descriptions are synonymous.
Being called “mzungu” is not intended to be offensive, but still, it gets old. I cannot walk down any dirt path, or two feet for that matter, without hearing multiple choruses of “mzungu! mzungu!”
Wanting only to blend in, my skin color betrays me, and I do not go unnoticed.
One of my friends jokes, “it’s like we are b-list celebrities.”
Some days I wave to the onlookers, with a smile on my face.
Other days, I look straight ahead, completely ignoring them.
And, if I am feeling particularly feisty on any given day, I might respond with some cleverly-constructed, cheeky comment in the local language. This is usually followed by an uproar of laughter… as what mzungu would know any other language than English?
I get that the Natives mean nothing bad about this, but I think it would get to me after a while. Why would I want to keep being reminded that I'm different - especially when I'm here to help? Then again, I guess it's important to remember that we ARE different. We DON'T live the lives they do. Hmmm....
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