On my first day here, I got my first lesson on what it's like to be the different one. I was at my new home already in the afternoon before the children got home. As my staying there was organized so late, they didn't know it until they got home and saw me. The smallest one started crying immediately after seeing me and stayed away from me or started crying when the others were trying to force her to greet me. That lasted about the first week. During the second week, I bribed her by bringing loads of yogurt (she prefers yogurt even over ice cream).
I get a lot of attention whenever I walk along Los Angeles road or close to my home in Kamwala South or Chawama. Apparently, people stare at me but I don't really notice it. I usually keep my eyes on the ground both to watch my step and to avoid any additional attention. Knowing that people stare at me annoys me only if I do something stupid, such as trip on my own feet or walk around a building for the third time to find an entrance, because then I know that I can't just blend in but instead everybody notices what I do. And anyway, I stare at other white people when I see them, so it would be unfair to complain about that.
I answer easily fifty times a day the question ”How are you?”. I always try to answer if I notice that someone is greeting me, though sometimes it's difficult when kids yell greetings so far away that I don't see where they are. I also hear the word mzungu, meaning white person, often. Besides that there are a lot of other possibilities as well: white miss, whitie, white man(!), white girl with gumboots, mrs mzungu, madam, pretty lady, pretty girl, honey, dear, sweetheart, sweetie, my girlfriend, my wife... For the last ones, I don't usually reply anything but just give a scornful look. Otherwise, I normally wave my hand. One more variety is calling me by a random name: Mary, Catherine, Irene, Brigdget, Linda, etc. hoping that I will correct it and tell my name.
People often want to talk with me. I normally never stay if they try to stop me on the street but if they are walking in the direction or it happens in a minibus, I of course talk with them. Some discussions are such that I get very quickly asked for my phone number. Sometimes, if it seems that the other person is not easily offended, I just say directly no. Otherwise, I usually lie that I don't have a Zambian mobile number.
Some discussions can be nice as well: one day at the Kuku market, a man asked from me that doesn't it get on my nerves when everybody stares me. We talked a while about that and he said that he wouldn't be able to take it. Then he asked the usual questions on what I do here etc. However, he didn't ask whether I'm married or my phone number.
I get marriage proposals regularly but it's not as bas as I anticipated. So far, they've been just random comments on the streets whereas I was more afraid of discussions that would end with me trying to convince someone that he really doesn't want to marry me. It has happened to me elsewhere and I really don't know how to handle those situations.
Occasionally, I get also asked for money. I say always no, but it does leave me with a guilty consciency, because the sum they ask is usually 1 000 kwachas, i.e., ~0.15 euros.
I probably don't even notice majority of comments directed to me or about me, as many of them are said in Nyanja or Bemba, the local languages. One afternoon, our minibus was stuck in the traffic, and there was a guy trying to sell something from the minibus windows. He started talking to me in Nyanja, so I had no idea what he was saying but the non-verbal part told me that it wasn't anything nice. I didn't really care but I did appreciate it when one man from the minibus defended me in Nyanja, and made him shut up.
All this is of course tiring but so far I've snapped only once: I was walking home from Snow White on sunday evening. I had just returned from the weekend trip to Lake Kariba and it was already late, and I knew I had to hurry up because it would soon be dark. It had just rained, and I wasn't wearing my gumboots because I hadn't wanted to take them with me to Siavonga. The road was bad, and I was doing everything I could to avoid stepping on the water, but at the same time I was walking as fast as I could. At one point, I was walking on the side of the road, very close to trees and bushes. It was tricky because I had my backpack and it hit the branches continuously. The road was drier in the middle but I didn't want to cross because I wasn't sure how deep the water was in between. At this point, one women started shouting: ”Step into the water! Step into the water! You are in Africa now! You are not anymore in Europe!” I tried to walk even faster, but she continued that ten or fifteen times, and also after I had found a place to cross to the center of the road. At that point, I snapped and shouted ”Shut up!”. A brief, and not very polite discussion with her followed, after which I continued walking fast, and she continued yelling the same thing. I'm obviously not very proud of yelling at her but I still find her annoying because many others were doing the same things to avoid stepping into the water.
There is also one thing that immediately ruins my mood: If somebody touches me. I try not to show how annoyed I am if it is a small child just touching me. However, if it is a man who grabs my arm to stop me and to talk with me, I get an immediate escape reaction, which makes me wrestle my arm free, and walk away as fast as possible. So far, I've been able to control myself and I haven't yelled at anybody in these situations but it does upset me.
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