23 2 / 2013
Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am?
Today was a boring Saturday. I didn’t have anything planned so I took an MCAT practice test. I didn’t do so hot (and there’s only three more months before test day!). Needless to say I was feeling pretty down about my performance. I wanted to work out in order to bring mood back up, but I didn’t have any water. I have been getting relaxed about storing it since we’re in the rainy season, so I opted not to work out because I probably won’t bathe for however many days until the water comes back on.
So instead of doing my Insanity work out, I took a walk around my village. My dog came with, and was running after other dogs. After a 10 minute walk, a bunch of children came running towards me calling my name and gave me some great big hugs. They taught me a dance they made up. A couple of them had cardboard boxes on their heads. I asked my 7 year old friend Lesedi what was on her head and she said, “a box of soup!” I laughed and they all ran back home, giggling all the way.
So after that interaction my mood had significantly improved and I started my way back home. Then a man in a white truck came up to me and told me he could take me to my house. I said I was only 2 minutes from home, so thanks but I’m okay. Then he said, “you didn’t greet me last time I saw you, why don’t you socialize with blacks?”
This pissed me off MONUMENTALLY. Yeah, I’m racist and don’t like to “socialize” with black people, that’s why I chose to live in an AFRICAN VILLAGE FOR TWO YEARS. I explained to him that I live here, all my friends here are black. I told him I don’t know where I saw him, but I can’t greet everyone, especially people I don’t know, all the time. I asked him where he was from, and he said a mining town close by. Maybe he experiences more racism there, but I told him I am not like that and he was rude for calling me racist when he doesn’t even know me. Then he asked for my number. After I called him racist and a jerk he still asked for my number. What a jerkface.
I think the hardest part about living here is dealing with all the preconceived notions that people have about me. Oh here’s the white girl, she’s rich, let me ask her for money. Or, here’s this American, white girls are easy, I better ask for her number. Or this what is this Afrikaaner girl doing here, maybe she owns the mine close by? It makes me so mad that I just can’t be my own person, and make my own impression. It seems like there are lots of first impressions I have to break down before I can really introduce myself.
