“Those kids are sooo Ugandan” says Mercy, one of MIHV’s Tanzanian staff, looking over my shoulder as I sort through some photos on my computer.“How can you tell?”
“Well, they’re darker. And look at those cheeks!”
Mercy’s skin is lighter, but not by much, and I’ve met Ugandans with surprisingly light skin.
“You can really tell if someone is Ugandan or Kenyan or Tanzanian just by looking at them?”
She nods. So I sift through my pictures, avoiding shots of women in traditional clothing, which would give away the region.
“Ugandan.”
“Kenyan.”
“Ugandan.”
“Tanzanian.”
“Ugandan.”
“Kenyan… oh no Ugandan. Definitely Ugandan.”
She’s right every time.
As I’m walking home later, I try to see the differences in the children I pass, but I can’t. As an outsider, there is so much that I just can’t see.
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