I have a name

I really don’t like being negative on my blog. However, I must talk about the recent reinstatement of children calling me ‘muzungu.’ According to Ugandans, muzungu is a term of endearment for all people with white skin. When adults call me muzungu it is usually in a rude way and just to get my attention for no reason at all or to try and get me to buy something. For children, they usually get a song going: ‘muzungu, how are you, muzungu, how are you…’ and many children look at you in wonder and excitement. The children come to roadside or even from the safety of their house and scream at the top of their lungs muzungu until you turn around then they say BYE again, as loud as they can. Even if you wave or greet them in luganda, they will go back to screaming bye or muzungu until you are out of sight. When we first arrive, it’s not a big deal, the screaming and jumping children don’t bother you so much and you just brush the name off. I have been here for almost a year and a half and have repeatedly told everyone that calls me Muzungu that I don’t like that word and that I have a name. My village is really good about knowing one of my names (namutebi in luganda or Allison, well they pronounce it allicy) or calling me nnyabo (miss/mrs in lugand). But in the past month I have been visiting my deep village schools to monitor my teachers and the kids don’t remember me or have never seen me before, so I have been hounded a lot by these kids. Most people would say, oooouu, too bad for you, you are like a celebrity-get over it. But it’s much more than being a celebrity, to me it seems like the children grow up thinking people with white skin aren’t even human. I feel as though they think of me simply as a foreign animal. Take children at a zoo, what do they do? Some are scared and yell from afar, some go right to the animal and try to touch it, most just want to watch it and do things to make it react and move. After the children get the animal to react-by looking at them, moving, etc. they laugh and try it again until another more interesting animal comes along. That’s precisely what children here do to me. I have many children just come up and pat me (even on clothed areas, so I don’t get the difference), scream til their lungs bleed to get me to give them attention, when I do they burst into giggles or screams then repeat. A few times on my bike I have had children throw things at me so I will look at them. It’s crazy. I really don’t appreciate it. Yes, I will admit, sometimes I do get special treatment and I enjoy it so maybe I do deserve to take the good with the bad. But all I am asking is for these children to treat me like a human.