Kenyan Children

There are some children who live near the campus who like to visit the volunteers because we are a curiosity—the mzungu circus. Ryan started the bad habit of giving them candy, so now, like stray cats, they come for more. I ran out of candy a while back (or I should say, I got rid of it because of bugs and what it would do to their young teeth.) Then I gave them some cookies, and then some potato chips. These are not hungry children. Their parents are the hospital staff. So I bought some crayons and this became an activity everyone enjoyed. The other volunteers are sick of them because they can be a bit pushy and boundary-less. We usually just visit on the back porch but sometimes they come into the house and start rifling through our things. When I tell them not to touch Leigh’s paints and ukulele or my jigsaw puzzle, they say “why not?” and keep doing so. So I chase them away and they come back the next day.

Mostly, all the children are irresistibly cute, even when they chase us down the streets calling “Mzungu! How are you?” It’s a funny term, not quite as derogatory as some of the insults hurled at black people in the US. It’s all in the intent, but it still feels uncomfortable. It’s definitely been a consciousness raising experience, being called out for being white.

                  

       


And yet, I’m not really fully white. Though I have identified as being white Hispanic for most of my adult life, I found out from DNA testing about 5 years ago that I am 14% African.  But probably more important, is that, as a first generation American I’ve always had a strong wanderlust and fascination with all things international and expat.

So as I wind up my time here in the next few weeks, I worry about what the return home will be like. Of course I dream about being able to eat whatever I want, not being surrounded by bugs, taking a hot bath and having electricity and internet all day long, but I dread the reverse culture shock. Returning volunteers say it can be tough.

So I’m going to revel in the inconveniences and appreciate being a foreigner for now. It finally rained and has since rained 3 more times. The thirsty red earth is grateful. Leigh even went out and drenched herself in it. The rain represents hope for the future in the developing world. The future of those children whose lives we hope to improve. Bring on the rain!

                                         

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