“Hey Mzungu! Madam!”
I left the school today at the height of the heat, one in the afternoon. I keep my head covered now when I go out, just with a red scarf so that my hair doesn’t collect so much of the dirt. I have begun to look like a cancer patient, no curls peak out from my head covering, and my pale skin glows a sickly green color in the bright sun. All mzungus are beginning to appear other worldly. They seem frail and unsubstantial next to the fully colored Africans. We look like a coloring book, abandoned, given to a kid much too old for such things. Only the dust has not neglected us, as it settles it makes us look like the “white” collard shirts the men like to wear. Everything white seems to have been washed in the same load with a piece of red underwear.
So my chemo looking body trudged up to the taxi stop, barely looking up as the men tried to get my attention, tss tss tss, its not too hard to ignore them. Then I heard a taxi slowing at my side, “Madam, madam, hey mzungu!” I popped my head up for just a moment so I could shake my head and tell them I didn’t want to go their way and I met the man’s eyes. His smile glowed in his face and he called out, “you are so beautiful, hey beautiful lady.” I ducked my head down again, turned my back, and laughed out loud. So there are ego benefits to being the only mzungu within five miles. Even on a chemo day I am beautiful?