I Felt Like a Celebrity

From the moment a white American steps foot onto African soil, he/she is practically worshipped by many Africans. Common phrases they shout at us are, “Sister, sister, I love you,” “Marry me, my sister,” “Here is my daughter, she is yours,” “Welcome, come buy all my things,” “You are always welcome in my country,” or “You buy me plane ticket to America, I come home with you.” There is a stereotype that ALL Americans are filthy rich and are personal friends with major celebrities. Other beliefs commonly held by Africans are that the streets of America are paved in gold, all of America is beautiful, and even, no one dies in America. Most Africans love Obama, and believe we have all met him in his home. Clearly their perception of “normal” Americans is very different from reality. When we explain to Africans what America is really like, and that only a small minority of Americans are truly wealthy, they look at us like we are crazy.

One of our ministry contacts told us that part of the ministry we are doing is to break stereotypes. One day we went to a local private hospital to serve. My team assumed we would be praying for the patients, but Pastor Zak told the manager that we would be more than happy to do manual labor as well. The manager looked at Zak like he was smoking something, and said, “White people do not do manual labor; that is unheard of.” When our team found out what the manager had said, we looked at each other quizzically and stated, “Seriously, they have never seen white people do physical work … wow.” That day we spent the morning pruning the front garden, trimming bushes, cutting the grass, and raking. The manager was so impressed with our work that he gave us free lunch and was overly thankful. You never know what change you will produce with something that seems so routine.

Last week my team visited a co-ed high school for the day. We spent the morning planting trees, pulling weeds, teaching some English classes, proctoring some math exams, and helping cook lunch in the kitchen. After lunch we played football (soccer) with the students and hung out with them. By this time the students finally started warming up to us.

I am not sure if I am going to articulate this story the way I am replaying it in my head, but the following events took me aback. Previous experiences made it clear that white people are often put on a pedestal, but that pedestal never seemed to transcend over to spiritual matters until this day. While Nathan and Chase were hanging out with the boys, I began talking to a few girls who were nearby. Before I knew it, there were at least 20 girls swarmed around me … all of them trying to ask my name, where I came from, and how old I am. As I began answering, even more girls came up and started stroking my hair and telling me how beautiful I am. I felt uncomfortable because they treated me like I was someone so much more important than them. I asked them, “Why am I so important to you?” They replied, “Because you are like Mary” (in reference to Jesus’ mother). I looked at them wide-eyed and replied, “Oh no, I am no more important than you are, and God loves you just as much as He loves me.” I don’t think they believed me, but at least I tried. It is unfortunate that so many people believe that the color of one’s skin determines status and importance. As much as we have seen this during our time in Africa, this experience seemed more profound.  I will never forget that day.