I am not Muzunu: Am I?
The children came running towards me, “Muzungu! Muzungu! Muzungu!” I had only been in Uganda for two weeks and had the opportunity to travel to the South Western part of Uganda to co-facilitate a training workshop. Here I was, probably the only white person that was around at the time, and I was the excitement of the day. It is hard to resent a group of children, and I did not really pay to much attention to it. The Trainer, Yona, who had also been my travel companion on this trip, said “your the new attraction!” And just smiled. I smiles back but I could not help but ask myself why these children were interested in me. Was it because I was a foreigner? No certainly not as they had no idea where I was from. Surely there are white people living in Uganda. Was it because I am female? That could not be it.
Having worked in South Africa, with a brutally racialized history, the common term for a white person is “Mlungu”. While I was there, I came to resent the term a great deal. I understood the history and implication of the word. I used to talk to South African’s that I worked with to try to understand why they would use this word to refer to me. And to help explain how it made me feel. Was Muzungu not the same?
One day in the lunch cafeteria at the Human Rights House where I was interning, I overheard two ladies standing just in front of me in the line whispering about the “Muzungu’s”. I could feel the blood boiling in my veins. Do they not see I am right here? Do they think I cannot hear them? Or that I do not know they are talking about me? Being the bold person that I am I said “excuse me. I am offended by the term Muzungu and I am standing right here listening to you talk about “Muzungus”. I may not understand what you are saying about them but I would ask that you not use that term to refer to white people. It is derogatory and you would not permit me to use a derogatory word to speak about you, would you?” Perhaps I said too much. But that is another discussion, for another time.
The ladies scoffed at me and kissed their teeth. One of the ladies had been blatantly rude to me in the past and I was getting very agitated by her attitude towards me. She said to me, “Muzungu is a Swahili word, older than you are!” I was so upset. I wanted to burst. But I said nothing. Perhaps I am wrong? Perhaps Muzungu does not mean the same thing as “Mlungu”? I bit my tongue and let it go.
That night I goggled the word. Muzungu basically translates as “aimless wanderer”. “Hmmmm” I thought, “I am kind of an aimless wanderer” I laughed to myself. But then I kept reading. The word was used to describe early European explorers. So there is a ‘whiteness’ to it. It is also a term used in reference to an employer. “Then this is the same as Mlungu!” I thought. Perhaps not as derogatory or racialized in the same way as it has been in South Africa. But why are either word used to talk about ‘white people’. Certainly a child does not understand why they are taught that a white person is a Muzungu. And surely the ladies, who are human rights lawyers in Uganda by the way, are educated enough to understand the implications of the word. Why do they use it?
Is this how I am seen by black Africans? Am I a white employer? What I came to realise is that I am perceived as white. That is obvious because of my skin. But the fact that I am white goes along with a great deal of assumption, and resentment. It is assumed that I am rich. This became clear from many conversations I had with various people. Even people I worked with assumed that because I am white and Canadian, I must be well off. I could not rightfully tell them that I am poor, although in Canadian standards I may be. I am certainly not a boss!
I resolved that if this is how I am seen through their eyes, I will have to make a greater effort to show who I am, underneath my skin.
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