He and mates were chatting in an Asian language. Not Hindi or Urdu. Not Japanese, Thai, or Chinese. None of those famous ones. Unknown countries tend to have people whose geographical knowledge is limited.
Listen to this.
Around 30 years ago, I visited Paraguay in South America. My girlfriend and I were just getting out of the bus, having travelled from Brazil. We were excited to be in Paraguay, a place we just knew on the map.
Paraguay? Hardly on the news.
Such countries do exist, of course—Lesotho, Greenland, Laos, Finland, to cite a few.
Soon it dawned on us that this was not Cuba, France, or Libya, where blacks are part of the atmosphere.
And, …speaking of race.
As an African visiting certain overseas nations, it can be challenging.
Decades ago, I was in this tiny German village, and giggling children invaded my path.
“Können wir dich bitte berühren?”
(Can we please touch you?)
Note the word “bitte” – which means please.
Just like youngsters eager and curious around a visiting Mzungu in far-removed villages of Sumbawanga, Monduli, away from Mbeya or Arusha cities.
So in Asuncion (capital of Paraguay), the novelty of being the only African in town was as tall as a giraffe.
“El negro es un vago!”
An elderly woman kept shouting.
Since we were carrying guitars and colourfully dressed, we obviously looked typical “gringos” (“gringas” for females), a term used throughout Latin America to identify foreigners, like Mzungu in Swahili.
EL NEGRO ES UN VAGO!
She went on, while the whole bus stand stopped and watched quietly expecting some sort of fracas.
We approached her. Yelled back, politely.
“No es la verdad. Los negros trabajan duro.”
That we blacks are NOT LAZY; we are hard-working. She was as embarrassed as she was surprised that we understood and spoke Spanish.
She stood up, rapidly. Left quietly.
It is part of the DNA of ordinary folks around the globe that a foreigner does not belong here, unless they can at least speak the native lingo.
Anyway.
Last week in London, I had to wipe out misconceptions of these excited Asian guys.
“What language are you speaking?”
“And where are you from?”
“Tanzania.”
Now.
Wherever I have been across the globe, Tanzania is also unknown.
You have to add south of Kenya, northwest of Madagascar; much more known landmarks abroad – to trigger recognition.
I enquired.
“Guess!” they taunted.
“Urdu?”
“Na.”
After several failed attempts, I was informed it was Pashto, among key languages of Afghanistan.
“And where are you from?”
“Tanzania.”
Now.
Wherever I have been across the globe, Tanzania is also unknown.
You have to add south of Kenya, northwest of Madagascar; much more known landmarks abroad to trigger recognition.
However, I was wrong.
The loudest of the group yelled passionately:
“I would love to go to Tanzania. I know Tanzania. I have friends there. You have many Asians. I remember when they were kicked out of that country near to you. What is called again? (I said Uganda). Yes. They fled to London. I know many of these. But your country did not kick Asians out. Must be a nice place.”
Yes, indeed. Blessed Tanzania.
Bless your eyes.
Takwenya, if you speak Kima’asai.
📧 Email: mtegowachui@gmail.com
🌐 Web: www.makalazangu.blogspot.com
