"Muzungu," a term whose denotation is "White person." However, its connotation, throughout much of Africa, refers to foreigners, especially those of European or American descent. It's not seen as a derogative term, well at least I don't see it as one. The term is commonly associated with whiteness, wealth, and weak stomachs. “Muzungu” is mostly used by people who are ignorant to its true meaning, and/or those who perceive all Americans to be white. Some take offense to this term, and I must admit, when I am called “Muzungu,” I am guilty of responding with, "I'm not a white person." The many discussions we've had about "Muzungu," or diversity have shown that many people packed their privilege in their carry-ons, making sure it did not get lost.
In America, before anyone knew my name, whether at a new job or new school, I was simply, “The new girl” or “The new black girl.” “Have you met the new girl? You know, the one with the braids." So yes, you are the "new white person" in town. You're upset because you are being called by your skin color, instead of your name, in an unfamiliar place. How dare someone address you by your skin color? 1. They don't know your name. 2. As an African American, I have had to earn the right to be called by my name, not my skin color or race in new places, and even in familiar places. 3. It's not what you're called, it's what you answer to. You're in a new place where you might just have to earn the right, and trust, to be called by your name. Or simply, TEACH people your name. Imagine that. Either way, NEWSFLASH: YOU ARE AMERICAN AND EVERYONE IS EAGAR TO KNOW YOUR NAME! But, anyway, while you drown in your tears, there are a few of us who live day-to-day too African to be American and too American to be African. Day-to-day, people feel like they can pick and choose when I’m allowed to be American. It’s quite hilarious to me. The nationality of volunteers of color is challenged because we don't have white skin, our ethnicity challenged because we don't speak a certain language or know where our ancestors stem from. Surely, you aren't upset because you are the face of an entire nation? Your tears blur your vision to the point that you fail to realize that even in this county you are viewed as the preferred shade. Furthermore, you don’t realize that I look like 99.9% of the people here, and they still treat you better because you are the face of all things good and right. I bet you haven't noticed, even sitting at the same table with me, sometimes, you received a "Muzungu Discount." Ah. But you would have to be aware of things outside of yourself to notice that. You would have to understand why all things good and right are associated with white. You would have to study and understand why hundreds of years later the stench of European Colonization and colorism lingers. I understand, that might be too much work and might make you too uncomfortable. I promise, once you take the time to do this, you might not be as offended by the term “muzungu.” I love being called Curtrelle, Trelle, or Rawls, so I get it, I know how it feels to be called anything outside of your God given name. Have you ever been called "n*gger girl" or "nappy-headed?" Have you ever been rejected because of your race? Or even worse, have you ever been selected simply because certain diversity statistics need to be met; overshadowing the worth and intellect you bring. I've sat in diversity training after diversity training, and presentations have been presented to teach my supervisor and coworkers that although I am not white, I am just as qualified as you are to serve. Seriously, you are sitting in the same presentations where someone is trying to convince others that I am worthy of doing the same job that you are doing?? What the hell? Strangely, in these sessions and presentations, we somehow find ourselves on some variation of the "Muzungu" topic, again. Presentation after presentation, session after session we spend time digesting how to make you more comfortable. Another objective of these presentations is to allow everyone: black, white, queer, straight, male, female, American, sub-culture American to recognize the privilege we each carry. Because let’s face it, we ALL carry privilege with us. Thanks to the ingrained post-colonization mentality, you are viewed as more qualified, you're viewed as the better volunteer, you're not expected to know the native language, you are seen as the supreme color and ethnicity; however, like always, such little is expected of you. So we have sat in presentations to attempt to teach you that because I am black, much more will be expected of me by Host Country Natives (HCN). I'm expected to know the native language, and sub-languages. But who are these presentations really for?? They aren't for me, or any other minority volunteer. When I signed up for Peace Corps I already knew how "unique" my experience would be. Just as unique as the rest of my life as been. Honestly, I am all too familiar with higher expectations, its been the way of life for myself and other people of color, pretty much since birth. My mother taught me, and I am a firm believer, I should be the one to have the highest expectations for myself; therefore, people do not have the power to place their expectations on me, because mine are already higher. Too much time has been spent crying about being called "Muzungu”, or people asking you for money, or kids running up to you. I’m sorry that kids follow you when all you want to do is go for a jog or go to the market. They just want to look at you. They are not even following you because they think you are trying to steal something. I'm very grateful that kids don't run up to me, but, as I walk down the road, I can't help to see their brains working extremely hard to figure me out. When traveling with or walking alongside your fellow PCVs of color, do you notice that we fade into the background? That when people speak to you, they don't speak to us? You can't see, at most times, they don't call us anything. No name, no nationality, nothing. So, they call you “Muzungu”, they, sometimes, even call me “Muzungu”. All of a sudden, your born privilege is causing you distress. As a sit here typing, I listen to you enjoy being called "Jesus" over a few beers. However, "Muzungu" shakes you up a different way. You only hear the term, ignoring the privilege and the literal "God-like" complex that is packaged with the term. A word that is PACKED with the American Dream. You would have to understand that people have been conditioned to think that success and respect comes with being white. They wish they could be a “muzungu!” There are skin-lightening creams readily available on the shelves, because, “If I look like a muzungu, I will have better opportunities and respect,” right? However, let us try to change our perspective of this non-derogatory term that just so happens to describe how you look. If you channeled that energy to educate yourself with truth, to educate yourself beyond a McGraw-Hill textbook, to influence changes in the way of thinking, to build natives up, and to tear down the stereotypes of colorism, a strange thing might happen. You might find that people calling you “Muzungu” is actually MUCH bigger than you and your comfort zone… Buuuuuut go ahead, keep crying. Just remember, I like my tears shaken, not stirred. Until Next Time, Live in Love... Words From The Wise: Shoutout to Faith, a Peace Corps Tanzania Volunteer for this "Words From The Wise!" Click Here and Enjoy!
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Put about 10 head-strong PCVs and about 60 Rwandan high school boys together for a week and what do you get? A week of power battles resolved because the greater cause is producing an amazing camp for our boys.
After we get over ourselves, we somehow come together to host Boys Excelling (BE) Camp, BE Camp is a week long camp for secondary school boys, fully funded by a grant from Peace Corps. The young men come from a diverse range of homes to build friendships, absorb knowledge, and have fun. Campers arrive on Sunday, and from Monday to Thursday, their days are packed with classes on topics such as: Savings, Physical Health, CV/Resume Writing, Budgeting, Maternal and Child Health, Puberty, Gender-Based Violence, Condoms and Consent, Mental Health, HIV/AIDS, and Leadership. A lot of information, huh? This was my first BE Camp, and the experience was unforgettable. Sunday, the campers arrived! They were dressing so sharp! Kind of like how your mom use to dress you if you were going to someone’s house. You could see the anxiousness in the eyes of some of the campers. Like many camps, the boys were separated into groups, with who they would eat, sleep, and pretty much do everything with. Some, who came as brothers were not too happy about being separated, but they quickly got over it once meeting their cohort. We put the boys into “Hero Groups.” My young men, my friend Meredith, and I were the Thurgood Marshall Hero Group. Other Hero Groups included: Muhammad Ali, Paul Kagame, Barack Obama, Kwame Nkrumah, Alphred Bernhard Nobel, Nelson Mandela, and William Kamkwamba. All these great heroes created some REAL competition. From wanting to be the first ready in the morning, to chants, to tug-a-war, to the debate teams, the competition was alive and well. And you know I’m really competitive, so my Thurgood Marshalls were there for it all!! There are better words to describe these young men, but the first word that comes to my mind is AMAZING! They had their notebooks and pens out ready to take notes in each class. I’m pretty sure they took more notes that week than I took my entire freshman year of college. Meredith and I taught Maternal and Child Health, a topic I thought the boys would find extremely boring. However, they were engaged, and had many questions. We taught three 70-minute lessons, and almost went over time each lesson. Luckily, there was a Question Box for the boys to leave questions. Listen, I’ve never interacted with that many teenage boys for that long of a time period, so some of the questions came as a surprise to me! They wanted to know how to start businesses, how mothers can die during childbirth, how a baby could still be breastfed if the mother has passed away. Like most teenage boys, sex was on the brain! All kinds of sex. Lord, my poor virgin ears. Listen, I feel sorry to anyone raising young men and the questions you have been facing. As uncomfortable as the questions were, I’d rather them ask tough questions than to remain ignorant. Outside of Biology, not much Sex Education is taught. So, I watched as some boys could not open, place, and remove a condom. I mean, the practice penises were wooden, so that might have complicated things. Many of us have been to some type of camp, whether it was a day camp or an overnight camp, we know camp activities. However, camp here was so much different. Let’s talk about how much these young men appreciated this camp. Their excitement to commune and to learn is indescribable. They were hungry for knowledge. No one slept during classes, hands raised quickly when questions were asked. Wait, speaking of hungry, these young men can EAT!!! The first night, the cooks prepared enough food, but not enough to fill their stomachs. The next night, the cooks stepped their game up! One camper stood up to say, “I want to recognize the cooks for preparing enough food!!” LOL! Monday night we had a dance party, and they danced for two hours straight. You know the party is “LIT,” as the young people say, when people passing by try to crash. Tuesday, tug-a-war and the debates added fire to the competition. Tuesday night was the talent show, and boy, these young men have some talents. Singing, dancing, rapping, spoken word, drama, and comedy sketches were all filled with so much creativity. The creativity was a much needed change of pace for myself. They were brave and confident performing in front of their peers. Wednesday night we taught the boys how to make s’mores. They were so excited about the marshmallow, chocolate, cracker/cookie combo. I might have to get my mom to send me some marshmallows so I can teach my neighbor’s children. Just kidding, you all know I don’t play with children, and they still hopping on my fence, so no. LOL! Thursday, we brought in about five men from different professions to host a career panel for the young men. They were able to ask questions and absorb knowledge from these professionals. I’m a firm believer that representation is important. Meaning it is important for the young men to see men that look and talk like them in the positions that they dream of having. Thursday, my boys competed in the championship round of the debate competition. Unfortunately, we didn’t win. The prompt was, “Dowry should be outlawed.” Seriously, how do you argue to make such a tradition illegal? I am proud of my boys for confidently debating such tough topics. Our first topic was, “Major industry is beneficial for the development of Rwanda.” Or something like that, all I know is we won. The topic that took us to the championship was, “Artist Should Not Have Women in Skimpy Clothing in Videos.” We were the opposition, and this was a tough win. Thursday night they received their certificates of completion and shed tears because Friday they returned home. Camp was a wonderful experience. The boys brought so much joy to my days. I believe they are the new faces of Rwanda. I often criticize the lack of creativity, inquisitiveness, and critical thinking of the generalized population of Rwandans (another blog post), but these young men proved that they are breaking barriers and creating new norms. They are inquisitive and creative. Because of them the future of Rwanda is bright. Another camp will be held around July; except this time, it will be a Girls Leading Our World (GLOW) Camp for the future Queens of Rwanda. So the question is, will I do another camp? Yes!! Buuuuuuuuuut, honestly only if it is hosted at another volunteer’s site and I am welcomed to stay with them. Why? Because bedbugs aren't my thing, and unfortunately camp = bedbugs the majority of the time. This is another thing that made the campers wonderful, they fought bedbugs and still woke up with champion attitudes. But Curtrelle isn’t here for bedbugs, never, ever. Even though I didn’t stay in the dorms, I still soaked all my clothes in boiling water when I returned home. The ego battles of PCVs took me for a loop. During the leadership class, this Mahatma Gandhi quote was posted, “I suppose leadership at one time meant muscles; but today it means getting along with people.” I felt this quote was something we as leaders could have followed more. But, yes, at the end of the day, I would work another camp because life is about grooming the future and paying it forward. The energy of the campers made each day worth it. So, now I have a question for you. When was the last time you groomed the future? Until Next Time, Live in Love… |