Keeping Their Seats

Upon arrival in Kenya, you are obviously noticed. You’re white, and everyone (for miles) sees it. Children run to get their friends to come look at the mzungu. You are invited to people’s houses on the basis of your skin, you are given the best of food, drink, transport. In fact, one time, my white friend and I were trying to leave work and it was getting late, so we were going to take transport home. A matatu (taxi van) came around the bend to stop to let a passenger out. The conductor saw us, called to the two passengers in the front, and they got out of the vehicle. The conductor told the two men to get out at the stop because we were white and he wanted to give us a ride.
I heard about the mzungu influence before I came to Africa, and the idea really bothered me. It bothered me even more once I got here, let me tell you! My first week of work clearly showed the influence. I was invited to the HIV support group where five or so people plus staff gathered in our tailoring room. Worktables and wooden benches cluttered the area. When I went in to the room, a woman got up from one of the few plastic chairs for me to sit there. A woman, who was a client, a woman, who was HIV positive, a woman, who was older, moved for me. The mzungu factor.
I told a couple long-term missionaries about this, and kept telling them, “I wish they wouldn’t move for me.” I was given hope that with time, the people I worked with and for would not see me as white, but as Melissa. Or at the very least, as white Melissa.
Some time passed, and by and by, chances occurred where people could have given me the best in sacrifice. The chances came and went. Eventually, people would make room for me not on the plastic chair, but on the wooden bench.
And I was happy to report to the missionaries that they kept their seats.