Being a Mzungu

Sorry that this post is a little late! My Sunday got away from myself. I went to church with David again. The church was happy to see us both again, and a lot of people came and greeted us. (David actually goes to the Catholic Church across the street, so it has been firsts for both of us going to this church. He volunteered to take me to the church we go to now since it was close, and he is already going to church every Sunday, so he doesn’t have to adjust his plans.)

Anyways, the service was very nice. We had a guest preacher for the sermon. He was a preacher back in the early 60’s at the church. Since then he started 3 others around Nairobi. The one he is preaching at currently is being held in a tent, because they can’t afford a building. His sermon was easy to follow and understand, and he hardly had an accent! He told us about how many times in the chapter of John alone, we are told Jesus was sent to us from God to save our sins. He was a loud preacher, and you definitely heard every word he said. I must say though, coming to this church, you can really feel the faith these people have. As the pastor rattled of a view verse numbers as an example of his sermon, everybody with a bible searched for these passages. During the songs everybody sings, even if you can’t carry a tune, you sing in this church. They clap when the songs are uplifting and listen intently to the choir as they sing the song of the month. Considering the size of this church, it’s a very neat thing to see.

After church as David and I were walking home, we went by a bus full of young girls in school uniforms. None were probably older than fifth grade. As I walked by, I believe I had every eye on that bus on me. Now that is a different feeling, and it doesn’t happen often to me. They would shout greetings, point at my hair, and wave at me. (I have not yet seen another blonde since I arrived by the way) I waved back and said hi as I walked to catch up with David. He was laughing and told me it’s because I am a “mzungu” or a white person. I was thinking about this on the way home, and I started to pay closer attention to the little kids we pass on the sidewalk. Some look only curious, and some look downright confused. I can assure you, I definitely stand out here. It is different to be a minority. To have the different culture and background from everybody else. Being a minority is a constant reminder to me. It’s not something I forget easily while walking around. It is something that changes you, how you feel. I believe it is something that, in situations like mine, you either embrace it or you try to hide. I've decided to embrace it J Life is better walking with your head high and a smile on your face!