If you do not appear African in Malawi, people will normally yell at you, calling you either mzungu (white person) or machina (Chinese person), sometimes alternating between the two just to get your attention. “Ma” is added before adopted English words. Examples include masweetie, macomputer, madraft, mawindow, matrousers, machair. When I ask my kids what they learned in school, they usually respond “masums”. Even Yotham’s neighborhood kids call him Maguy. Anyways, mzungu/machina rage is present in my everyday life, manifesting differently depending on the situation.
Situation 1
I’m travelling, carrying my overstuffed backpack in Chichewa, Chitimbuka, or Chitonga territory. Because my language in Ifumbo is a minority language, I’m usually out of my comfort zone and unable to communicate past the standard greetings. Children, teenagers, or men leer at me, yelling “MZUNGU! MZUNGU! MZUNGU”, bolder in numbers. I exhale deeply and trudge on. If the harassment continues, I can at least say “Iwe, basi!” (i.e. enough!). This however, amuses the perpetrator more and fuels louder “MZUNGU”s or “MACHINA”s. It’s kind of like an “It speaks!” reaction. If I’m not in a patient mood, I’ll throw rocks at the name caller. Usually though, I exhale heavily and buy a soda to placate my moods.
Situation 2
I’m in Chitipa, outside of Ifumbo where people don’t know my name. Someone comes up to me (almost always a man) and says “Mzungu, bo?” or “Machina, bo?” (Bo is the equivalent to Hey, a shortened version of Bonjour so I’m told). Feeling self-righteous, I look the name caller directly in the eyes to make him uncomfortable and say “Mutakakoleaghe ukuti mzungu! Ute we mufitu!” (Don’t call me mzungu! Your name is not black person!). The name caller then erupts into laughter and calls over all his friends and tells me to repeat what I just said. By this time, I’ve just drawn more unwanted attention to myself and walk away.
Situation 3
Chinunkha Primary School. A place I avoid like the plague. The problem is I have to cross the school yard whenever I’m biking to the boma or trading center. Imagine a sea of 300 children, dangling outside the windows, stopping in their tracks just to yell at me. “CHINNNAAAA! MACHINAAA!! MZUGU! WAYA KWI MZUNGU??!!!” (Where are you going, mzungu?!!). It’s awful, I’m usually covered in mud, dehydrated, and feeling pathetic. To make matters worse, they run after me as I cross the river by their school, watching in awe as I carry the bike on my shoulder (praying I don’t fall face first into the water). I’m way too outnumbered in this scenario; I just keep my head down and move as fast as I can. Otherwise, I’ll erupt and throw a tantrum… a mzungu spectacle for the children to talk about for days!
Situation 4
Ahh Ifumbo. My home. All I hear is “Mwaghona, Kala!” because in Ifumbo I’m a human-being with a name, not a light-skinned freak show. An occasional machina or mzungu may come about, from a child or perhaps a visitor. Luckily, I don’t have to say a thing; the community polices and protects me. And actually, they get pretty indignant about it, too. It’s a nice feeling. As I’ve been told over and over, it really isn’t a big deal to call out someone for being different in Malawi. But growing up in a nation where staring or mocking someone is a BIG no-no, it’s a difficult thing for me to adjust to. And I know I never will be ok with being called mzungu or machina, and that’s just ok. I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life in Malawi. Still more, the people of Ifumbo know it bothers me and they look out for me. So in the end, I’m a pretty lucky mzungu to have such a great community.
