Day 8

9/10/2012

Hair. Freckles. Veins. These are all words that fascinate the kids. My skin is so pale and different to them that the refer to me as Mizungou--white in Swahili. They can’t see their veins through their dark skin so they enjoy tracing the tracks that run up and down he insides of my arm. Another foreign blemish is the small dark brown spots we call freckles. We searched vigorously before we finally found a small, barely visible freckle on Dvid’s arm. Finally, hair. The texture, look and feel of mine is so strange to them that they are content just sitting and braiding it all day long. They also do not have hair that covers their arms like mine; they have no need for it. Physically, I look so different to them that every day they find something new to ogle at.