I was in my host David’s car after returning from a traditional wedding called an introduction. My butt was tired and my legs were weak from sitting during the 5 hour ceremony. ‘’How many people were there” I asked. “Maybe 500 or 600” my host responds. “I think I was the only white person there” I observe. “Yes, it was nice to have some color”. I smile slowly to myself, finally I am in a country where I can add some color.
I have already blogged on handholding, so why not dig right into another taboo? Color here is not spoken in hushed terms here as it is back home. My whiteness is acknowledged and attributed to several personal characteristics.
“I like this Nile Special Beer, it has a rich taste.”-Me
“Yes, the whites like it.”-Lady sitting next to me
“These grasshoppers are pretty good and crunchy”-Me
“The whites are usually terrified of them”-My laughing host
“Why are the children all crying?”-Me
“They are afraid of the white skin”-Preschool teacher
As an interculturalist, it is liberating to finally be able to talk about culture and color in un-hushed tones.
Too all those who think kids are colorblind, I have some video of some screaming children I would like you to watch. Stay tuned.
Some of the infants here are afraid of my whiteness. While entering a preschool a small child started crying, then others started crying as well, soon the whole preschool was crying. I asked the teacher why they were crying and she told me in good humor, that they were afraid of my white skin. We had a quick laugh and one of the members of my team started singing and clapping, and the eruption of sobs soon evaporated. But thinking back, I was wondering if the same things happened in the United States with an Ugandan and a room full of white children. What shame the teacher would face. Would the children be required to take diversity training? Would a cover up explanation be used, “they are just tired”.
I was also wondering if I was ever terrified by a different color person. All of these kids who are crying are before the age when they store memories of experience, so I doubt of anyone could recall if they had the experience. But my Brazilian Boss in Japan tells the story of the first time he saw a black person. He started to cry because he thought the person was all burnt. I wonder what explanations kids are coming up with for my white skin.
There were kids in Ghana who tried to "wipe" the white off me by constantly rubbing my arm. They thought I was just covered by some substance and the black was below the white.
ReplyDeleteSimilarly I had children rubbing my arms in Ghana, but also they were smelling my arms.
ReplyDeleteI had kids in Namibia fascinated by the hair on my arms and were constantly pulling it and crying out in surprise "Miss has hair on her arms!!". I really was fascinated by the bluntness in regards to anything relating to colour. Gave me so much to ponder and dissect. As I was told by my students, "Miss, you are not black or white, you are coloured". Well lookie here! I am coloured!
ReplyDeleteA funny kid/colour quote: my white cousin when she was about 3, asked my dad "if you are the colour of chocolate can I eat you?".
Color me white, Color me Black
ReplyDeleteJust Don't Color me late for a snack.
Alex:
ReplyDeleteI was just about to respond to this well written post when Jessi told me you were not doing well...I hope you are recovering.
I like you insight on our "colorness" and how we often tend to pretend that it doesnt exist. In this era where being politically correct is more important than the truth, I applaud your willingness to bring this issue up and also admire how you use kids and their unadulterated honesty as a way to drive your point through.
I was in my country Liberia recently and had my share of the good African experience.
I would someday love to read a book written by you on your intercultural experiences and expertise...
Good Luck....