As we started another day of ministry, we walked into a village to evangelize to the people. Dressed in my shetenje, tshirt and sandals I don’t look much different than the women walking around with the exception of the mountain of curly hair on top my head. We walk into a house where we are greeted by a sweet old lady. To my surprise, she speaks English. It is very uncommon for older folk to speak English in the villages. Most only speak the tribal languages. She welcomes us in and gives us benches to sit on. As we introduce ourselves she looks at me and says, “you are a black American”. I smile and say, “yes ma’am, yes I am”. I could have corrected her and went into how i’m actually Hispanic and Caribbean and have gotten like 4 shades darker thanks to the African sun and a black American is usually an African American which i’m not… but i didn’t want to complicate things lol. A dark skinned American is enough of a confusion in these villages. No need for technicalities.
I was surprised by the number of stares I received in Africa. I thought that i’d blend in here. Not so. However, it’s a different kind of stare. It’s a stare of both amazement and confusion. I can only imagine their thought process as they see me:
Who is this girl who walks with the Azungus? Who talks like them but looks like us? Who lives in America but she is dark skinned.
I found it strange that they still called me an Azungu though i’m not white. In their eyes, I am as much a foreigner as my white teammates. There were the occasions when someone would start talking to me in chichewa (the local tribal language) and i’d politely say, “sorry I don’t speak chichewa”, which was a bit of a shock to some. I’ve even had people question me on why I don’t speak the local language. When they learn it’s because i’m American, their mind is blown then they go through that thought process mentioned above.
I wonder what they really think of me. I asked one of our translators if they had ever seen a dark skinned American before. He said, “it’s not something you see all the time, I myself wondered about you. I wasn’t sure what you were”. I can’t imagine what a revelation it must be to know that someone of dark skin comes from a land where you thought only whites lived. If any of them ever made it to NYC it would be quite the culture shock.
I especially love to see how the kids react to me. They just stare. Since they have no filter or care about social norms, they don’t look away when I stare back, they just continue to stare. Most will start talking about me because they know I don’t understand a word they are saying. I just smile and wave and say a friendly, “muli bwanji” (hello), to which they just laugh at. Perhaps at my pronunciation or the fact that some dark skinned foreigner is trying to speak their language.
Being in Africa has been so great! So much about it has been so familiar. I loved going out to the villages. Real villages with mud huts, dirt roads, squatty potties and goats everywhere. I loved learning the language, talking to the people and hearing their stories. I loved being the “black azungu” and sharing my story.
Stay Blessed
Kim 🙂
