What? I'm White?

As part of the abroad program we have to write ‘critical incident’ papers. These are short descriptions of times when we realized we were in a different culture. Personally- I think they are kind of pointless. I knew I was in a different culture the second I stepped off the plane and I was the only white person in sight. I came here expecting awkward moments and misunderstandings because I come from a completely different place so I don’t notice them as much when they happen. There is one thing I find to be strange though. When I pass another white person in Kenya I get this strange sense of ‘white solidarity.’ I don’t mean Nazi ‘white power.’ I simply mean there is this strange sense of connectedness. Most white people here are from the West and are outsiders to the Kenyan culture. Therefore we automatically have something in common.  Although I can appreciate talking to a fellow U.S. citizen about missing burgers and baseball, it’s weird to have random white people address you everywhere. Quite a few times a group of us have been walking down the street and had a random white person come up and start talking as if we knew each other. Twice on my walk to work I have had a white woman pull over to the side of the road and ask me if I wanted a ride. I declined both times. But if you wouldn’t let a black stranger into your car- why would you let a white stranger?

Sticking out wherever I go doesn’t help matters. On my first day at USIU I felt like the Plastics walking through the halls of their high school in Mean Girls. Groups of people just turned and stared at us as we walked by. I asked a few Kenyan students if they noticed people staring and they had no idea what I was talking about.

I’m finally becoming accustomed to the stares I get wherever I go. At first it would it would really freak me out. The only thing that bothers me now is hearing people talk about me but not being able to understand what is being said. I constantly hear the word mzungo which is the local word for ‘white person.’ Often times I will hear it when I am the only mzungo in the area which makes things really awkward. I’m also addressed by taxi drivers and beggars as “Hey mzungo.” I’m trying not to let it bother me but I keep thinking if I were on a street in the U.S.  and yelled “Hey black person” I would be considered a racist. My Kiswahili teacher has explained that mzungo is not a derogatory name. It is just the word for what I am but it is still bothersome especially when it is commonly assumed that every mzungo is filthy rich.

I constantly feel like a walking dollar sign. When I walk by street vendors they will often times call out to me for business and ignore Kenyans in the area who are probably more likely to patronize them. Each time we go into town we’ll have at least two people try to sell us a safari. Taxi drivers assume I do not want to walk anywhere. People always try to rip me off.  If something normally cost 50 Kenyan schillings many will try to charge me more. Even my economics professor at USIU has said that he believes Westerners should be charged more because we have more money. In class he will talk about how rich Americans are but never mentions that the cost of living in the U.S. is so much higher than it is here. So although by Kenyan standards I have a lot of money, when I return home in December I’ll go back to paying $2.00 for a cup of tea rather than $0.50. He also has a tendency to say “what do our American friends think” when we’re talking about a specific issue which is uncomfortable because it seems like when I answer I am speaking for America as a whole and not just for myself.

People think the United States has a long way to go with race relations but I think people here notice race much quicker than we do in the United States.  I sometimes feel that my white skin creates a barrier when I’m talking to people because so many people have preconceived ideas of what a mzungo is supposed to be. We are rich. We all have dogs and live in big houses with two children and we all think we know best.

Fun Fact: I love ice cream so I am now a regular at this one Gelato place and I have noticed that only white people and the occasional Indian buy ice cream.