I think the place to start is the word "mzungu." In Swahili, mzungu means "outsider," "European," and "white person." It is not necessarily negative, but nearly everyone uses it to describe the Q-tip that is currently inhabiting their town. In America I have never before been the minority to the degree that when I walk in public people stare. This is not the case in Tanzania. I cannot go anywhere in public without every single person turning to stare at the mzungu. People react differently, but the stare is constant. Some Tanzanians will come up to me and say "Hey man, what is up?" or some other english phrase that they have picked up. Others simply look confused as to why I am here. The most common reaction is one of two parts. The first part is fear. Many Tanzanians look at me with a look of distrust, wondering what I am doing. This undoubtedly has its roots in history. The second part is curiosity. Children are especially curious by nature and noticeably want to see why this strange person is so funny looking and what he is doing.
The final element of the mzungu reaction relates to money. While Tanzania does not have the slums that Kenya and other African countries have, most Tanzanians are poor. Although western countries have poverty, you cannot understand true poverty until you experience African poverty. I was speaking tonight with Mama Tukai, the orphanage mother, and she commented that many westerners cannot understand that Tanzanians can live with nothing. In America you cannot live with no money because life is expensive every day. However, Tanzanians often go days without a shilling in their pocket surviving on what they already have. To them all mzungu are rich and they have come to expect money. Twice, young children came up to me on the street and said, "Mzungu, give me money." Furthermore, Tanzanian stores have two prices, the local price and the mzungu price. Sometimes I feel as if my face has been replaced by a dollar sign.
So, after 24 hours of travel, I arrived on Saturday morning at 1:30AM, a white man alone in Tanzania. After a slight immigration hiccup and an hour long wait for pastor Tukai, who turned out to be asleep, I entered the arms of Kao La Amani. Pastor Tukai, Mama Tukai, and Pastor Joshua arrived at the airport in a beat up old Mitsubishi 4x4, having been roused by my phone call from a borrowed cellphone. They welcomed me with open arms and brought me home to the orphanage. Although it was 3:00AM, the children stood in the doorways of their dormitories, woken by the sound of the car and eager to meet the mzungu. As I entered and squatted to introduce myself at their level, many of them had the timid reaction that I previously described. I said good night to the children, set my bag down in my new room and sat down with Pastor and Mama Tukai to share a cup of tea and talk. At 4:00AM I thanked them profusely and retired to my new room. I didn't sleep much that night perhaps due to the tea, the disruption of my internal clock that accompanies a seven hour time change, or my excitement for the coming day.
On Saturday morning, I awoke to find many timid children standing around the orphanage courtyard and looking at me. As I made an effort to talk and play with them, their curiosity got the better of many of them. We played and talked throughout the day, but for many the barrier of distrust remained. On Sunday, I spent the morning alone with the children, and learned of the truly magical power that international football has at crossing language barriers. As we kicked the ball around and played Mzungu vs. Watoto (children) keep away, I saw many of the kids really open their hearts to me. As some of them began to trust me, the comfort zone of the others grew and they followed. An hour later I was sitting on the ground with about six kids on top of me and many others sitting around. They were fascinated by my strange white skin and couldn't quite understand why I have hair on my legs and arms. They pulled at the hair and grabbed at my skin, laughing and commenting to each other in Swahili. From that moment forward all cultural and linguistic barriers were lost. No they constantly ask me questions, try to teach me Swahili words, laugh when I butcher the pronunciation, and hold my hands. These kids are incredible and I am very excited to spend the next three months at their home.
