so it's becoming normal that people will stop on the road (even if a moto or Chinese truck is coming) to watch me walk down it. But I'm still amused by my interactions with people based on my permanent condition of being a muzungu. I also hope you all know that word by now. Nothing I say to you will make sense when I come back if this is not clear. It means "white person." So, all the time, whenever people (incl. people I know fairly well) see other white people in my village they always ask, "Who's your friend? What is name?" Because, obviously, we have a network and all know each other. It takes me a long time usually to explain that I do not know them nor do I know who they are or where they're even from, or if they speak my languages...any of them. Last time I went to visit the priests and my friend Alex at his parish they threw us in with these 2 other white people. They happened to be Italian and we had no way to communicate with them. To further illustrate my point...
On the bus the other day, I had another great experience with Alex. We were catching a bus back from the big city of Kigali and we bought our tickets and were then ushered onto the bus. From the driver, (who had corralled us in from the street) we got the usual "karibu" (which is 'Welcome' in Kiswahili but which they use here often). Then he said, "Your friend is here."
I started racking my brain to see how that was possible. First, checking what language he had said it in to make sure I didn't mis-translate. [English]. Then to see if Alex had somehow made it on the bus before me. [He was behind me.] Then trying to remember if I had mentioned Peace Corps when we bought the tickets and perhaps this other person had to. [We hadn't. They hadn't] We sat down and I had never seen this person before in my life....but he was white. He was actually a German volunteer working about an hour away from me who had only been here a month and a half of a 13 month excursion. After laughing at our "friendship" forged in the minds of the people here...we got to talking and he was a lovely person. BUT before this moment, not my friend.
I have just now begun to convince the nuns that I work with on a daily basis that I don't know all other white people. The problematic thing is of course, with so many Peace Corps volunteers here and the extent with which they integrate themselves (therefore getting to know many people of the community), I, once in a while, am actually friends with the person someone has mentioned. At this point, the Rwandan or whomever I'm talking with must call this person just to let them know they've met me. But Rwandans and their cell phones are a whole nother entry, and a doozy at that.
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