No shock here but I am the only white person who lives in my village. I am becoming better known but I still get looks of awe, shock, and sometimes hostility. These are all turned into satisfaction after I explain who I am, where I’m from, and why I’m here all in isiNdebele.
When I walk down the street, children who don’t know me shout, “khuwa! Khuwa!” (means “white person” or “European”); I am not sure if they are intrigued or if they are alerting their parents of the danger I present to them. The children who know me from school or just from me introducing myself to them shout, “Jabu!” (shortened version of my name, “Jabulani”). This gives me a sense of satisfaction that kids know me and are happy to see me. However, this semi-celebrity status requires me to look every single child in the eyes and shout, “yebo!” (means “yes” and is the response to hello) or give them a thumbs up; doesn’t matter if there is one child 5 feet away or 20 children 500 feet away. The most disheartening thing is when a young child starts bawling because they are terrified at the site of me; I can understand why since they have probably never been approached by a white person before.
This daily experience makes me empathize with celebrities who live their entire lives like this. It is nice to be recognized and welcomed but greeting everyone becomes tiresome and more than doubles the amount of time it takes me to get from one place to another.
A huge part of South African culture is Ubuntu, meaning “people”, which places much more emphasis on people than on getting things done. As a result, things often take a lot longer to get done. This is why, no matter if I’m late, I am obligated to acknowledge everyone. Since it seems to make everyone’s day a little better I will continue to do it.
Since I have plenty of free time in the afternoon and on weekends I take that time to walk around and talk to people. I say hello to everyone who bothers to make eye contact with me. If the person recognizes me or wants to talk to me I’ll sit down with them for a while. These conversations have resulted in meeting some interesting people who I think will prove to be valuable resources in the near future. I talked to a group of 4 old men who were sitting on some wooden benches surrounded by a fence made from corrugated tin roofing material. One spoke only Sotho and another was so drunk from utjwala (I advise against this), the traditional South African beer, that he kept falling off the bench; I was unable to communicate with either. One of the men belonged to my host father’s church and all 4 were landscapers. On top of finding out more about my village, I convinced one of the men to talk to his supplier to see about getting trees donated for a park project. Talking to everyone has also resulted in meeting a well-respected police trainee, the director of an orphaned child organization, and two men who coach a boys’ soccer team and might help me start a league or a boy’s club.
It makes me wonder, how different would life in America be like if we would just take a little more time to stop and get to know our neighbors?
