Muzungu

Muzungu
This is the term that applies to white people in most of East Africa. Walking down the street, kids will stop and stare and call out “Muzungu”, as if we need to be reminded of what we are. My kids are embarrassed and somewhat offended by it. I guess they don’t like to be singled out. I, on the other hand have had a good deal of practice with being a minority white among a large African population. In my Peace Corps days in Cameroon, we were referred to as “Nasara”. Kids several blocks away would spot the whitey and yell it at the top of their lungs, attracting the attention of those who might miss the spectacle.

Here in Rwanda, there are a great deal more whities than there ever were in l’Extreme Nord of sub-saharan Cameroon, but kids and adults alike will actually stop and openly stare and yell out “Muzungu”. On the way to Nyungwe, as we travelled through village after tiny village, kids would yell it at the top of their lungs with such enthusiasm, joy and complete abandon, we began to think we were long lost cousins or even long awaited dignitaries visiting our subjects. Reid would energetically wave at each kid and yell back, “Yes, we are Muzungu and we have come!” Of course, our kids just about died of sheer embarrassment. I can’t even imagine why.

Today, my friend Patricia and I went to one of the big local markets (another blog post to follow on that) and took the bus to and fro. On the way back into town, we saw a whole string of white people walking down the sidewalk—perhaps they were with a touring company or something, I’m not sure—but before I even realized what I was doing, I yelled out “Muzungu” in that melodic, joyful voice I’m so accustomed to hearing as I walk down the street. Needless to say, my friend about jumped out of her seat. She laughed so hard she was crying. She vowed never to go anywhere again with me. I laughed till I cried too because it was such a spontaneous thing, I didn’t even have time to draw down the filter. Remarkably, many of our fellow Rwandan bus riders laughed as well indicating that they got the joke. Others, the non-laughers, probably chalked it up to crazy white people behavior given that we are such an inexplicable breed to Africans.

The craft center down at the foot of Kiyovu has t-shirts emblazoned with the word “Muzungu” that I’ve been eyeing recently. I’m thinking now that maybe I should buy one for Patricia!