mtu , pl watu { English: person, pl people }
You hear some crazy things walking around town. I've decided to keep track of some of my encounters here:
The kid said dudu! He saw a worm and said dudu. When I was little I used to point at strings and call them dudu. I also called a babysitter dudu. I obviously fail at telling this story. Find Jamila or Alia Mullani for more details.
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Zanzibar is known for its “papasi.” Nope, it’s not a tropical fruit. It means ‘ticks,’ and it refers to the young men who harass and chase after tourists and myself to buy cheap scarves, sunglasses and tours of the island. In trying to escape one particularly annoying one, I said in Swahili, “Look, I’m not a tourist. My parents are Kenyan and I live in Michenzani.” I guess this was hard to believe, because his response was, “You brown people, you don’t like to talk to us because you’re afraid you will turn black.” Now that would have caught me off guard if I didn’t know that he was right. Indians and Arabs have a reputation in East Africa for mistreating the local blacks. It’s common for them to have a couple maids and a driver who make their lives incredibly easy and cost pennies. It’s a really big part of the economy and you need guards and such to take care of your house during the night. But instead of maids and drivers, they can be treated like slaves. Now I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea of a full time maid anyway (weekly cleaning ladies I would gladly welcome to deal with my apartment if I had the cash), so I may sound a little harsh. But when the blacks you talk to on a regular basis are servants, it makes it acceptable to treat them all the same why. And so I can see where this guy was coming from. He wasn’t the smartest salesman though – he thought after his comment that I would still want to pay $20 for a scarf from China.
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I was walking through Sokomuhogo yesterday (it means Cassava market), and a teenager stopped me to talk. This is fairly normal since people here love to practice their English, and it helps me to practice my Swahili. But this guy was different. He knew I was Canadian – lucky guess I figured since there’s a lot of brown Canadian tourists. Then he knew I was studying at SUZA – still, it’s popular for most foreigners to do some form of Swahili course. Then he mentioned Civil Engineering, McGill and knew my name. I guess people in Zanzibar talk. I bumped into someone else who knew my name and where I was working earlier too.
Anyway, he asks if I play basketball or anything. Nobody knows what hockey is here, so I just say football. Then he asks if I want to come to the beach with him and his friends to play soccer later. I’m a little creeped out by now and just say I’m heading to work. Then his friend goes “DON’T GO TO THE BEACH. There is a man named Babuli there who will break your legs and take your money.”
(Edit: since then, I've seen that guy 20 more times. And I still have no idea what his name is.)
