I think there is a joy in holding a baby, because you are holding close to you someone who knows a great secret.
As infants we know something that is lost when we no longer know what we know because it is what we feel, but because it is what everyone around us does. We do not learn language because we instinctively feel that the word “milk” means lunch or that “mzungu” means white person, outsider – we acquire language from others. But before language, there are some things that are not acquired, things that are imbedded deeply in our brains and heart and pancreas, and seem to be lost on everyone over the age of 18 months.
Where ever I go, people stare at me.
Not a surprised glance or a quick once over, a long, uncomfortable stare. Sometimes I meet their gaze, hold it, smile, all the while thinking, ‘Yes, I see, you’re looking at me, I’m white, but that’s enough now.’
Ugandans may be many things, but they are not mind readers. They just keep staring.
Every time I go to the latrine behind the Mubende office, a little girl calls “Mzuuuunnnnguuuuu, Mzuuuuunguuuuu,” drawing out the “ooooo” sounds. It’s been a week and she still feels the need to herald my presence. Yesterday, a man at the market, ten feet from me, barked, “Mzungu, Mzungu, Mzungu.” While running in Ssembabule, I looked to one side of the road, and there were a dozen people, adults who had been working, children who had been playing, all frozen, their eyes following me down the rutty road.
Emma’s mother is one of our puppeteers for Family Planning Days. As his mom rehearses, Emma and I walk around the event, stopping to watch the cattle being herded by, wandering over to a group of children laughing, past the women who stare.
Emma isn’t offended by my whiteness. For him, my hip is just a hip and my shoulder’s paleness does not merit an announcement. It’s just a shoulder, a good a place as any to rest his tired head.
4 comments:
I'm continually amazed by what matters and what doesn't as you grow older. Race was insignificant when I was younger. I had no idea why everyone wasted so much time talking about it.
Now, I can't remember what it's like to be color blind to the stigmas and stereotypes associated with skin.
This is such an articulate, touching offering. I'm always awed when looking into a the eyes of a baby and your sentiment "I think there is a joy in holding a baby, because you are holding close to you someone who knows a great secret" tells the feelings so well. It reminds me of the story of the little boy who leaned down to his baby brother and whispered in his ear "tell me about God, I'm starting to forget".
Bravo to you for your willingness to step out of your comfort zone and into a world where you are "other" and the outsider. Emma reminds us eloquently to listen with the ear of our heart. It's a wisdom we seem to need to hear again and again and again.
little people and dogs have an unerring sense of who to trust. Yours must be a safe shoulder to rest on!
Post a Comment