my name is not muzungu

When you're white and in Africa, people generally tend to stare at you. They also tend to wave and call out, "Muzungu!" It's unnerving at first, but eventually you just get used to it. I use the word muzungu a lot, but realized I never actually explained what that means. Technically in the Ugandan language muzungu means 'wanderer', but really what the kids mean when they scream "Muzungu!" at you is 'white man'.

You walk down the dirt roads, and kids sitting on their front steps see you and wave. "Muzungu! Muzungu!" they cry. You drive through the villages, on your way back from ministry, and children see your van. "Muzungu! Muzungu!" they shout and wave at the vehicle driving by. You are in Africa, you are muzungu.

I remember the first day I was not called muzungu, but rather Anna. As cute as it is to be called muzungu by all the kids, eventually you get tired of it. It feels impersonal, you want to be known by your name. I sat in our eating room at our Africa-home. Some of my teammates and I were hanging out, I'm pretty sure we had just finished up a game of bananagrams. In Africa, the kids were almost always hanging around outside of our house. Staring in from the doorway, calling out to us, wanting to play. And the reality is that, as much as you love those kiddos, you can't always be out there playing with them.

I half-noticed the kids outside as I sat at the little wooden table. I kept thinking, "You should go out there and play with them." But I was so tired. The kids peaked in the door and through the windows, until one little voice called out, "Ana? Ana!"

The first time you hear children call you by your name, rather than muzungu, is a moment you will never forget. Suddenly, I was more than muzungu to them. I was Anna. It was personal, these kids knew my name now. They wanted me-Anna, not just me the muzungu. In that moment, my heart melted. Needless to say, I went outside with them.

Being home now, I wish the children who shouted, "Muzungu! Muzungu!" at me were here. Their cries still echo in my ears, I can still see their excited little faces, I can imagine how they'd jump up and down and wave ecstatically. I miss hearing the word muzungu. I miss it so much, I may just start calling you that.