Magozu Gygene Honky Hey You White girl-a walk from NGO house to town

I recently read a short story in the New York Times that said something about if you really want to get to know yourself, sleep in a bed somewhere else. It is a great point. I did not really get that I am white and privileged until here. And even now, I do not understand it. I think I observe the world more than I think of myself participating in it. So I am surprised when other notice I am here. I sort of view myself more as an audience member. But apparently, I am white. I mean, REALLY white! And I stick out like a white girl in the middle of Africa.

This morning, I endeavored to get to the Agahozo Shalom Youth Village in Ntunga. 90 minutes by car and half a day of travel by public transport east of Kigali. My plan was to walk to the bus station 2.5 miles (or so) away, ask around until I found the bus to Ramagana. Buy a ticket or something like that. Then get on the bus and make sure someone on the bus knew that I did not want to in fact go to Ramagana, but I wanted to get off in Ntunga. Then, once in Ntunga, I needed to catch a motto (a ride on a motorcycle) out to the ASYV. Then, I would find either Tanya or Mor or Andrew (my various contacts here) and...well, do whatever would happen next.

The walk to the bus station was awesome. It is pretty much all up hill on a sidewalk along a 4 lane super-road/highway. The NGO people had armed me with two phrases. Muraho (hello)and murakoze (thank you). I said Muraho to everyone I saw. And I noticed a few things. First of all, some people just stared at me. When I said hello, many seemed delighted and said hello back. Many stared at me meanly and when I said hello to them, they broke into a huge smile and said hello back. Some people ignored me actively, looking but trying not to look like they are looking. And some did not see I was there. To them I was invisible (which suits me just fine)

By the way, not only am I white, but I was wearing a rucksack with 2 days worth of clothing-a light blue one-jeans a t-shirt with Kermit the frog on it that says "Keepin' It Green". Not exactly inconspicuous in the land of printed fabric skirts and coca-cola t-shirts.

One man tried to escort me on my walk. I carefully freed myself of him. I did not understand the overature and had been told I would fine if I just stuck to women. Not that I would be unsafe or in harms way. Just that I could be setting myself up for unwanted flirtation and advances. Easier to skip that. He was very nice and I was happy to walk on without my new friend.

I saw someone wearing a Red Sox hat just like mine and we laughed at each other as we passed. I saw the playboy bunny, Texas A and M, and many other American and English signs, symbols and slogans. Globalization, eat your heart out!

One man struck up a conversation with me in French for a minute or two. Then he went off to work in the opposite direction as we entered the traffic circle near the bus station (station meaning shack tucked back on the side of a hard-dirt road)

The other word I have learned here is Muzungu. Whitey. I do not know if it is just an adjective or if it has some sort of pejorative nature to it. The word rattled in my head as a I walked. I saw two other Muzungos. Both worked hard to NOT see me. I felt that if they acknowledged me, they would have to identify themselves as not part of Kigali. They were the only two white people for an hour! Of course they are not a true part of Kigali!! It made me laugh. I walked on.

My NGO friend the other day told me how you can pull a Muzungu and walk on the grass. technically, it is not allowed. I said, oh I can be a dumb tourist and not know better. He said no, not that...As a white person, you can get away with breaking the rules. I thought of this as I walked around the occassional patches of green at various intersections. You can go to any wedding you want, he said. It is considered status and class for the hosts if a white person is there...

I finally made it to the buses and as I asked for Ramagana a man in glasses with good English (he learned it in Louisiana) insisted he help me. I kept tryin to find a female friend and finally he said, miss, I want to help you. Just come with me. And he did. He got me to the bus, on the bus and he even helped me buy an apple. No flirting, no funds expected, just genuinely kind. There is a lot of that around here regardless of color.

On the bus, we all (16 people in 4 rows of seats) squished in. I sat stacked between other people as dark as I am white. No one there seemed to care. And since I do not know how I look from the inside...I didn't either. I asked about Ntunga and soemone said they would tell me. I ate my apple.

On the other side of Kigali we (surprise) changed buses to something bigger that held more people. I sat next to Alifella who spoke French. We chatted about life as we made our way to Ntunga. I shared my cashews with her-it seemed like a big gesture...In Ntunga, I tried to get some lunch while the motto guy was in a meeting. Ntunga seems to be a town with four buildings and a bus stop. All twenty members of the city watched and walked with me as I crossed the busy street running through the center. As I entered the restaurant, someone came and got me since the motto guy was free.

I hopped on the back of the motto and off we went. Down a dirt path at high speeds (helmet on of course!)tightly gripping the back of the motto, backpack on, nervous, elated and then, looking out at the verdant hills, awe-struck. Beauty and destitution doing their dance together again. Are we there yet? I can't wait to get off this bike! I will be sad when this os over...DON'T HIT THE TREE!! Look at those children, do they have shoes? The houses and road are the same color? DON'T HIT THE BIKER!! Hold on tight...thank goodness for yoga and good core strength. Relax. Breathe. Is there more? I hope so! I hope not! MUZUNGU MUZUNGU (chldren shouting at me).

Yes, muzungu.

I just met the project manager, Allain, who laughed his butt off when he realized this is my first time in Africa and I pulled up to ASYV on a motor bike.

Like I said, I am just watching the movie unfold...or maybe more appropriately...I am just along for the ride.