I should preface this post by acknowledging that it did not come from thin air. I did not simply wake up one day and decide to write about it. Rather, it is the product of conversations with friends back home, friends here, a recent incident at bar, and some thoughts that have been floating around my head for some time now. I will also say that many of my observations are shallow. It is fitting, for the topic is, quite literally, only skin deep.
As one can imagine, there are a lot of things about living in Namiba that are different from the US. I've written about them before. More than once. And I will again, I'm sure, as time goes on. When Peace Corps told me I was going to Africa, I expected some of these difference. Lower quality internet (when I have access), different food, different living conditions, doing laundry by hand, religious differences, a totally new culture, etc. Then there were things I didn't think about, but quickly came to understand, and learned to live with, like water/electricity being shut off at random, a different work ethic, different education systems that teach different types of thinking, attitudes towards gender equality, powdered coffee (okay, "learning to live with" might be an exaggeration on this one, more like "sucking up and tolerating, for lack of alternative"), and modes of getting around being prime examples.
However, there was one thing I didn't think of: I'm white, and, for the first time in my life, a physical minority. I don't think I need to explain the privilege status that comes with being a white male in the US. Eve in Ray Nagin's "Chocolate City" of New Orleans, I was mostly living in the "Tulane Bubble," which was predominantly white (about 81% of my freshman class was Caucasian). However, I will later discuss the privileges of being white, male, and American in my community. However, let's start with some information. Most sources I've seen have the population of Khorixas as somewhere between 6,000 and 7,000. The vast majority of those are Damaras. There are a few Asians (one of the "controversial" issues here is the number of Asians who come here, open shops, and sell cheap goods at lower cost than the products at Namibian stores, admittedly at a much shoddier quality, as well, which has led to a good deal of racism, but I'll save that for a later date, if at all). I think I might actually need my toes to count the number of whites I've seen living here. Maybe. White people are a massive minority here. And as such, I stick out.
I was recently talking to a friend, and we were commenting on how we were recently at a bar together, and, annoyingly, couldn't get even a few minutes of uninterrupted conversation. Every few minutes, someone would but in, and no matter how many times we hinted that we had no interest in what they had to say or being in their presence (if you count saying "excuse me, but we're trying to have a conversation, so go away" as a hint). The kicker, this friend was a co-worker. He was black. He was from Khorixas. But people wanted to talk to me (generally in the hope of getting my phone number, for reasons I will get into shortly). It's even worse when I'm out with other white people. And if they're white females, well, Jimmy Buffett comes to mind. When he wrote his lyrics "Can't you feel 'em circlin' honey?/Can't you feel 'em schooling around?" I don't think he realized just how well they described being white in a town like mine. My skin makes me exotic. So does my accent. And the history of the country makes it safe to assume I'm wealthy.
Of course, I'm not. My Peace Corps allowance allows me to live comfortably, though I don't make nearly as much as my co-workers do (granted, unlike them, I don't have any children with multiple women to pay child support on, but that's their choice). There's a perception here that everyone in America is wealthy. That, of course, if far from true. As a matter of fact, as my friend Amy is often quick to point out, while Namibia may have a higher percentage of people living in poverty, not only does the US have more people living in poverty (~4.6 million, as of 2012) than Namibia has living in poverty (roughly 55-65%, depending on the source), but the US has more poor people than Namibia has people at all (~2.1 million, as of 2011). Now, granted, I'm hardly poor, but I'm far from being wealthy. However, this perception of American=rich plays a big role in how people interact with me. Whenever I walk around, I have children coming up to saying "owe me N$1)" and when men at shebeens tell me I "must" give them money, and I reply that I have none, they always respond with "all white people/Americans have money/are rich, so just go to the ATM." Oh, if only they saw my bank account. It's gotten so bad that I really have to walk around with my headphones on, just to drown it out, to keep myself sane.
Of course, being white may have annoying parts (and I can only imagine how much worse it would be for a woman), but it also has its perks. While some people here who don't know me sometimes assume I'm an Afrikaaner, the majority of people have learned to recognize me (with my beard, bushy hair, and shorts that aren't disgustingly too short). Because people know I'm not a Kaaner, they do tend to invite me to more things. People will invite me to weddings or other cultural events. They will have me over for dinner. When there is a big soccer match on, they will invite me over (especially when Chelsea is playing, or the USA, since they know I'm a big CFC fan). I will also be asked to help speak on panels or attend town council meetings to get my perspective on different issues. Because I'm easily recognizable, people will offer me rides around town more often than other white people I see, or they'll see me passing a bar and ask me to come in and join them. Being white most certainly opens doors for me, which I work hard not to abuse, but to use effectively.
At this point, I would like to digress and point out that I emphasize that last point because of a story our assistant country director told us during training. When he was a PCV, he took advantage of his status. Because he was white and American, he could regularly see whoever the head politician was called in his town. Since Peace Corps gives us local holidays off, and he wanted his birthday off, he used this connection to get his birthday declared a local holiday. I share this story not to embarrass him (though I find it amusing, and hope you do too), but to point out how easy it is to take privilege for granted, and maybe even take advantage of it in ways that aren't exactly productive. It's a cautionary tale that reminds me to remember how I represent and conduct myself in my community.
I mentioned before that people often ask for my number. This comes down to the wealthy perception thing. For females, when they give out their number, it's a fairly safe assumption that they will be on the receiving end of SMS and calls regarding pitiful, corny, occasionally disgusting, and often just pathetic "come-ons." As one can imagine, that is not something I have to worry about. Instead, they'll call me repeatedly asking for money, or SMS me, begging for phone credits. As a result, I've come to be very selective in who gets my number, and unhesitating about blocking a number after getting these types of calls or messages (I don't wait for 3 strikes, I warn people when I give them my number that if they do it once, I'll block them and never give them my number again). I also have a second SIM card, which I only give to people related to my work.
There is also another issue at play with my skin color. Apartheid did play a major role in forming modern race relations in Namibia. And even today, there are those who see my white skin and assume I'm a Kaaner. While there are very few Afikaaners in my town (most of whom work at the local lodge), a number of them pass through on their way to the coast or to Etosha. And I can't help but notice the looks I'll get (often judgmental) when they see me walking around with my black friends. Or the looks of utter shock when I'll enter the gas station and order a burger or something, all in Damara, clicks and all, including the general niceties of polite conversation. Damaras tend to get a kick out of it (they find it funny) and often show gratitude at my efforts to learn their language (as pathetic as the results have been thus far).
It's also led to certain rumors. According to Grace, some people in my town think she and I are dating. One person, mentioning having seen me in town that weekend, even referred to me as the "guy who looks like [her] husband." Any time a new white person comes to town, people remarks that I should marry that person (but, as a rich American, I must also adopt one the children they can't afford to care for). Of course, given how many people I've told I'm single, have no wife or children back home (not the same thing as being single in the country, I've come to realize), etc., and how well I stand out, my skin and "exoticness" of being American has also had some advantages I won't get into (but which I'm sure your minds are going to, or at least predicting, right now). After all, there are "fins to the left/fins to the right/and [I'm] the only [white]
bait in town". (Sorry for the Jimmy Buffett quotes, but it really does summarize how I feel, in regards to being white)
I'm sorry if I sound like I'm complaining. I don't mean to be. However, all my life I've been a member of the majority, and I now realize how much I've taken it for granted. Now, for the first time in my life, I'm not only a minority, but a major one (like, less than 1% of my community). It is something that has its advantages, and yes, disadvantages. But, most importantly, like everything else that's different about Namibia, it's something I must adjust to. It's something I must cope with. It's something I can use to my advantage, but must also be cautious not to abuse. Race is something we're born with. And it's something everyone sees (nobody's color blind, though I'd like to think I make the best effort not to let it impact my interactions with people, but recognize it does sometimes, maybe even more than I'd like to admit, me being human and flawed). Being Jewish is something I can hide (well, more like not call attention to, because it leads to very awkward lines of questions I don't like dealing with). It may be something new, but it's also reality. I'm white. Most of my town is black. I stick out. I'm American. I stick out more. I'm male. I don't get harassed quite to the level of my female counterparts. It's weird, but I'm getting used to it.
Check back soon. Around (or possibly on) Thanksgiving, I plan to have a post about my diet as a PCV. But for now, I hope all of you are well.
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