Every morning when I leave the house for work I tie my shall around my backpack, (so that there’s no temptation for pick pocketers) and I start my journey to work. I walk to the end of our driveway and I wait for any matatu, (a.k.a. crazy van packed with twenty people, which obeys no street rules, as there are none, with gangsta rap, and sometimes at night, fluorescent blue lights). Matatus, tuk tuks (small open air taxis), and cars wiz by me honking their horns, and I quickly flag my ride going towards the docks. Often the other passengers are perplexed by my presence on the matatu as generally foreigners, and anyone with some money, steer clear of them… but now that I’m a resident and I don’t have that much money I join in.
When I get off my matatu and take my five minute walk to the office, it becomes painfully obvious that no matter how long I’ll be here I will never blend in with the crowd. People yell, or say under their breath (which I particularly enjoy), “mazungu” (i.e. white person), some people go as far as to grab my arm, but most just point or stare, or both. Once my 5 minute, which seems like an eternity, walk is over I arrive at the Madrasa Resource Center’s office. When I go inside, unlike all the other women, I take my shall which was covering my bag, and wrap it around my shoulders so that the top half of my body is covered. I respect my Muslim coworkers by covering up. Ironically, many of the women, the ones who wear burkas, have a routine that is the opposite of mine. When they are outside in public, they are covered heard to toe, with only their eyes exposed. But when they are in the office, they take off a few layers, (but still wear their traditional Muslim hijabs).
In the office my mazungu status is played down, but every once in a while I get asked questions that start with “you people” or “your people”, and I am quickly reminded.
When I leave I repeat the whole process. People honk, yell, stare, point, grab, slow down their car, reverse their car, follow me, etc. It’s funny how in Canada everyone wants to stand out, be an individual, and here all I want is to blend in… Oh well, just another day in the life of a mazungu in Mombasa.
