On Being Famous

It took me about this long to put together that the word I thought meant 'hello' actually means 'white man.'

Every day here, when I leave my compound and walk the 15 minutes or so to the district hospital, or the 20 minutes or so to the internet cafe, or wherever, I am stopped at least a few times by people calling 'Yavu! Yavu!' I smile, and I wave, and sometimes we chat a little and I try to speak some Ewe and they laugh at me. This was a much more idyllic scene before I realized they were SHOUTING RACIAL EPITHETS AT ME. The fact that this is done in a consistently friendly manner is, in its own way, all the more unsettling.

Also, apparently the women who live in the compound have nicknamed me 'bread.'

So here I am, a genuine curiosity of the first order and a local celebrity. Walking down the street to constant cries of 'hey whitey!' I always knew someday I would be famous. I had... well, I had just hoped it would have more to do with the content of my character, I guess.

Today an old woman with no teeth told me 'White man, I will marry you.' What can you say to that? You're all invited to the wedding.