My Muzungu, Myself

I am a muzungu, a white person. In Uganda, this makes me startlingly conspicuous, and alluringly fascinating. It’s nearly impossible to be out in public without hearing the hum-like shrill of “muzungu, mpasente,” -- “white girl, give me money.” It follows me around like the sun and the chickens, and the powdery clay that tints my toes a fuzzy, red-brown-pink—mimicking the color of the roof-tops—and doesn’t wash off in the shower. Sometimes “muzungu, mpasente” is followed by “marry me, muzungu” or “I love you, muzungu.” It doesn’t feel threatening; it’s delivered with amusement, sometimes a mournful longing, but mostly out of relentless curiosity and admiration for whiteness—which is equated with wealth. So I smile and say: “Hello, how are you?” “Fine, thank you, how are you?” – the expected Ugandan greetings dressed up in a deep, penetrating gaze, sometimes child-like, and a lingering handshake that feels flirtatious, but (mostly) isn’t. I’m trying to mirror those around me … except, of course, when I don’t:

At the Zoo in Entebbe (to which I received a free pass after spending Shabbat on an island with orphaned chimpanzees), I accidentally forgot the “no eating and walking at the same time” rule. I’d just bought some red dye #7, orange dye #3 “ice-cream” from a man wheeling a wooden box down the street. It was served to me in a small paper dixie cup. I probably should have just sat down on the curb and eaten it, but for reasons that I’ll explain in a later post about my curb-side sightings, I chose not to. I proceeded to stroll into the Zoo while spooning the ice-cream. While in transit, I dripped some on my hand. Then I licked it. In a matter of moments, my conspicuous “muzungu-ism” had become prime entertainment for the group of Muslim school children on their way to see the caged white-face monkeys and the warthogs. The boys erupted in laughter. The girls whispered and pointed and muttered something in Luganda so I couldn’t understand, but it probably wasn’t flattering.

So I smiled and said: “Hello, how are you?”

“Muzungu, mpasente.”