Being a sunburn-prone redhead, I was forced to give up a long time ago on trying to blend in in Africa. In Ethiopia I was a farenj (foreigner), here, I am an mzungu, or more literally, “one who walks in circles.” I often feel the term is very apt, given how lost I feel much of the time. Aside from occasionally being addressed as dada (sister) or mama (married lady) or the less plausible beautifulgirlhello! (hollered in nearly unrecognizable singsong through a bus window), the most common moniker I get is mzungu, whether hollered at me on the street or said in hushed Swahili as I enter a room. It almost reminds me of a game of punchbuggy, where they’re rare enough that just spotting one constitutes a game in and of itself.
