Trying to break stereotypes

That is proving to be very difficult. I had hoped that I could live with an African family and live like them, participate like them. But I’m being treated differently. To be sure, they are treating me very well. I feel like a princess at times, or a celebrity. They put in a toilet for me because they don’t think I can pee in a pit toilet and no matter how much I insist that I’ve done it before many times, they just laugh and don’t believe me. They want me to sit inside on the couch to take my tea even if the rest of the family is sitting around outside by the fire. Yesterday when I came back I perched myself on the edge of a bin thing that very pregnant Lydia was also perched on by the fire. They were terribly afraid that I would fall in. In that ensuing conversation they commented on bazungus being fragile. They’re reluctant to let me do any work. They keep thinking I will be tired. They don’t want me to be tired. I did mention that not all bazungus are like the ones they see on tv, that those in fact are quite unrealistic. I’m not convinced that they’ve believed me. I try to break the stereotypes by actions rather than words but they get offended when I try to do something they think I shouldn’t or can’t. Maybe by the time I leave I’ll have made some headway. I hope I’ll be able to walk to school next week. Yesterday Mr. L drove me but it was also pouring rain. Now I’m sitting here on my bed while everyone is working around me. Jean was just in washing the floor and worrying about my backpack on the floor, wouldn’t it get dirty, dusty? I feel bad that I’m not participating in the work but I know they won’t let me. So I’m letting them work around me. Plus it’s good to do some writing. I feel a little out of date.

On the other hand, stereotypes we hold are also being broken. The idea that Africans don’t have a lot to eat for example. When we see news and reports in the media about Africa it’s always about the starving poor in war torn countries. But here in Buganda for example people have plenty to eat. I get served mountains of food. They want to make me African in that regard, strangely enough. I struggle in getting them to serve me less. When we went to the kaseki a couple of weekends ago I was conscious of the fact that I had too much on my plate and wouldn’t be able to finish it all. I thought of the phrase people at home often say, “Don’t throw away food, there are people starving in Africa” and here I was not able to eat it all. I looked around and saw many other unfinished plates.