"Muzungu?"

*From 3-9-2014*  

Today, for the first time in my life, I became classified as white. That’s right, Rachel Myers, the Ph.D. in African American & African Studies, is referred to as a Muzungu—meaning “white person”—by Ugandans. At first, Tianna and I assumed they were looking at us and using the term to describe the rest of our group members, but I soon learned that wasn’t the case.  We returned from a stroll around town and were loading up our safari green van when I decided to casually inquire about this whole “Muzungu” question with our driver, Junior.

            “Hey Junior, Muzungu means white person, right?”

            “Yes,” he casually responded with a slight smile.

            “Well…everyone keeps saying Muzungu to our group, but is there another

word they call us (pointing to Tianna and myself)?” Junior looked at Tianna

closely and inquired as to what she was (because Tianna and I don’t look

alike).

“She’s Jamaican,” I said. “And people have asked her if she’s Nigerian or

something else.” Junior shook his head in an understanding manner.

“But what about me?” I was getting worked up in a way I never have in my

life. “I’m not dark enough?”

“No, you are not,” Junior replied…I had clearly made him a little

uncomfortable. I thanked him for the insight and climbed into the rear of the

van.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. A rush of thoughts came to mind.  No one in America would ever consider me as being white and I certainly don’t self-identify as white (even if there is European blood flowing through me). When I lived in South Africa, I was a “question mark.” In living there for a few months, I got used to the “What are you” and “Where are you from” questions. French? Colored? “No, I’m black and from the U.S.,” I’d say. Then there’d be a follow up about President Obama. But now here I am, in a new African country, excited to interact with “my people,” and I’ve been labeled white. Umm, what??? As the emotions settled, my intellect kicked back in and I asked Junior a follow up question.

            “Hey Junior?”

            “Yes?”

            “Do Ugandans identify with Blackness? You know, like do they have a Black

Consciousness?”

            “No, we don’t…it’s mostly…”

            “…about ethnic groups?” I cut him off anxiously.

            “Yes, it’s about ethnic groups,” he replied.

            “Ahhhh, okay, that makes sense. Thanks!” That’s all I needed to snap myself back to reality.

I have learned that the reality of race in Uganda if you’re a Black American is this: If you’re not “dark enough,” or don’t have the “African” facial features—my nose was pointed out to me by a Ugandan woman who didn’t speak English that was trying to “figure me out”—that you’re a Muzungu or “half caste” (another label someone who identifies as being Black doesn’t enjoy). No one I mentioned the transatlantic slave trade to or history of U.S. slavery seemed to know what the hell I was talking about. So, as of Day 5 in Uganda, the African American half of my Ph.D. is pretty useless here…and so is a Black identity! But don’t read this the wrong way either…I’m loving Uganda and Ugandans. They are accepting of us and most are welcoming—the others tend to stare or laugh at the Muzungus…and we’ve learned to laugh at ourselves. Myself included. My fanny-pack probably doesn’t help me blend in anyway.