Being a white girl in Rwanda puts me in some interesting situations everyday.
Several mornings a week, I wake up early and go for a run around my neighborhood. (I used to go run through villages and cornfields, but after busting it twice because of my unstable footing on the rocky terrain, I have decided to switch to paved surfaces.) Running for exercise is uncommon around here. And by uncommon, I mean nonexistent. So you can imagine the stares I get by being white AND running through the streets with no destination in mind. I typically run with my iPod so as to tune out the incessant shouts of “Muzungu! Muzungu!” but the stares are impossible to ignore. My running time often coincides with many children’s commute to the local school, and thus I typically get a little posse of followers trying their hardest to keep up with me as I scamper down the street. The children aren’t the only ones who stop and stare; my running is also entertaining to adults who often stop everything to watch and sometimes to emulate my lanky lope.
While I work predominantly at the high school, occasionally I end up at Primary to do projects where I get stared at by THE cutest kids on the planet. Today I was sitting in the business manager’s office working on her computer with Anna with quite the audience. She tried to shoo them away unsuccessfully and informed us that they just wanted to look at us. Earlier Peyton and I happened to arrive at Primary at break time where we were swarmed. Some kids keep their distance and merely explore us with their eyes, but others are too fascinated by my hair to keep their hands to themselves.
The stares are much fewer when we are at hotels or in the car. These are places we Muzungus are expected to be. However, when walking down the road and shopping in the market, it is as though the Rwandan eyes are magnets and we are refrigerator doors. It has come to a point where I am surprised when people don’t stare at me.
I wish I could share a photo with you of the jaw dropped, blank stare I receive hundreds of times a day, but it is rather difficult to snap a candid picture of someone whose eyes are piercing your soul. I hope you will understand.
In all of these situations, it never fails: I ALWAYS find myself singing OneRepublic’s “Stop and Stare.”
“Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you’re here, not there
And you’d give everything to get what’s fair
But fair ain’t what you really need…”
Being the center of attention everywhere I go sometimes makes me wonder why I’m here, not there. While it may be flattering, it’s also disconcerting. Is it fair that my pale skin draws so much attention or raises so many assumptions? But maybe fair ain’t what I really need…
