Muzungu

“Muzungu” means “white person” and is a kiswahilian word. I am one of only five white people in total living here in Nyanza (that I know about). So I stick out everywhere I go and people tend to react.

Children are mostly pleased and fascinated to see me. Some kids start running towards me as soon as they spot me. I will often get hugs around my waist or touched on my arms by them, which can be very cute. When children are further away and still see me, I hear shouts of “Muzungu! Muzungu!” around me, coming from behind bushes and windows.

(Although Florian told me that a child started crying once as soon as it laid eyes on him. Which… yeah I guess I have been lucky so far then.)

When I make eye contact with people passing them, I greet them, as you do. Of course I learned how to greet people in my first week here, so it is not a big challenge. Often, people will be really impressed with me. “You speak Kinyarwanda!” (or alternatively: “She speaks Kinyarwanda!”, if I’ve already passed them) and want to speak with me, to test out my ability to speak Kinyarwanda, which can turn quiet awkward, because I am really not on an easy conversational level of speaking yet. Most of the time though, people only want to know my name or where I am going, which I am able to understand and answer to, thank god.

Some strangers simply address me with “Muzungu”, when they don’t know my name and somehow want to get my attention. But that only happens when I don’t react to “Sister! Sister!”. And I have to admit, “Muzungu” definitely catches my attention faster, because I know that no one else is meant by that.

Of course, some people are more pleasing to meet than others. I have, for example, a favourite child that always greets me when I am on my way to the market. This child is about 2/3 years old and is absolutely delighted, every time without fault, that it sees me. First, a happy high pitch scream: “Muzungu! Muzungu”, then it will come running towards me, on short legs, struggling a little bit to get up to the path next to the house that is higher up on the hill, until it reaches me. Most of the times it stops right in front of me, giggling and laughing happier than I’ve ever heard a child, and then it runs right back. But when my house mate, Laurin, is with me (he is just much better with children and somehow more approachable), it even comes all the way towards us to hug our legs. It absolutely makes my day every time.

Some more unpleasant meetings occur, when children, but also adults sometimes, tell me to give them money. I understand that, because I am white and privileged, I come across as a very rich person, which – considering the difference of the economic prosperity between Germany and Rwanda – is true to some degree, but I can’t just give money to every person that asks, especially because I don’t even have much more, as I am a volunteer with a budget. Getting asked for money, by students, children, people in the market, gets a little bit annoying after a while, I don’t want to lie. But I got used to it, I just ignore it or tell them “No” and don’t get flustered and thrown off anymore.

So all in all, I do stick out, and I won’t ever stop sticking out, but it is not as daunting as it was during my first week. At the beginning I was really scared, of all the people staring, noticing everything I am doing or where I am going. It is still a little bit weird, but I am definitely not scared of it anymore. Most of the time it is fun, especially when people at the market start laughing, because they are so surprised and happy that I speak a few words Kinyarwanda.

(And if I were to somehow forget where I live, I am sure a lot of people could show me the way immediately.)