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“I was thinking of getting myself a Muzungu,” he said

The good Samaritan? (Or was he out shopping for a white one?)

They must have watered down my petrol or something. I know the car needs a service but it’s almost impossible to get the car going. I rest my full body weight on the accelerator but nothing happens, nothing happens and suddenly we lurch forward, almost into the back of someone parked in front of me.

The engine is cold and I have to limp out of the car park straight into Kampala’s rush-hour traffic. Drivers impatiently push past me. I’m getting a bit stressed as I pull out onto the roundabout, looking at the rev counter and BANG!

The front right corner of the car is leaning down at an angle and the front wheel is in a hole in the road. The girl driving the car next door to me smiles and says “sorry!”

How the hell am I going to get out of this with no power?

Quick as you like, a Ugandan guy in an office shirt comes over to me. “We need stones in that hole to get you out of it.” He leans into the flowerbed, picks up a couple of rocks. How convenient!

Seconds later, three rough-looking street guys run over to me from different directions. I hear the word ssente (money).

rush hour boda boda Jinja Road Kampala. Diary of a Muzungu

rush hour boda boda Jinja Road Kampala. Diary of a Muzungu

They grab hold of the corner of the car and start rocking it as I put the car in low gear and try to go forward. (Hang on, I better not run the good Samaritans over). I shift into reverse and after the second push, we are out.

Expectant faces lean into the car.

“I’m going to Nakawa, can you drop me there?” Asks the first guy.

Sure, if I’m going to thank anyone, it’s the guy who was first on the scene.

I’m causing a jam and the last thing I want to do is get my purse out in the middle of the traffic jam. I’m totally skint anyway. If I can thank this guy by giving him a lift home, that’s good enough for me.

We drive off with the three street guys shouting after us.

“I thought I’d better let them think I know you so that they leave you alone. These guys can disturb you.” He says. I don’t usually let strange men in my car but, in broad daylight, it seems like a sensible enough option.

As we drive, in the opposite direction to my home, he tells me about himself and his aspirations. Needless to say, there are a couple of predictable topics.

“I’ve just come from the village. There’s a man I know who has lots of children and can’t pay school fees. He was telling me that he’s heard of some organisations that pay school fees and was asking if I could find out. Do you know of any?”

“No, I don’t,” I say, “but if he has so many children, tell your friend to use a condom next time.”

“Yes, he does but sometimes that stuff gets through and sometimes a condom breaks.”

“What, 20 times? He must be very unlucky!” I say.

He laughs. I only know of organizations that help children with HIV and AIDS. Anyway, I don’t feel like getting involved today. “I was thinking of getting myself a Muzungu,” he says.“I think one day I might go to the UK. Do you think I can find a girl there?”

“I’m sure you can find any type of girl, you just have to look when you get there. They’re very different from Ugandan girls though. You better be prepared to do half the cooking, half the cleaning, and half the childcare if you have a British girlfriend.” The young man goes silent. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he probably wouldn’t get into the UK anyway these days.

“Actually when I saw your car stuck, I saw my opportunity.”

It’s funny how even the guy who saves me from the ones who are trying to take advantage of me is also trying to take advantage. I don’t mind, he’s helped me and seems like a sweet guy but the favours and requests do feel a bit relentless at times. At least he hasn’t asked for my phone number.

“… But how do we keep in touch?” He asks as I drop him at his destination.

If you enjoyed this story, I know you’ll love Downtown Dreadlocks, the muzungu’s blind date.

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Downtown dreadlocks. The muzungu’s blind date

What did I say to Julia?

After one dating disaster too many I joked that “if another guy with dreadlocks wants to date me, the first thing he has to do is shave his head.”

Moving on, a few months go by and the girls were having a giggle… Elisabeth wanted to set me up on a blind date with a friend of hers.

“Teddy works in a salon,” she told me. “You can just drop by one day, and check him out first. He won’t know. He’s fed up going out with Ugandan girls who keep messing him around. He said he fancies going out with a Muzungu.”

We checked him out, surreptitiously. My friend gave him my phone number. He called me.

“I just wondered what you’re doing tomorrow? I’ll be in Kampala,” he said.

“Call me when you get to the taxi park. I’ll be at the saloon by the bus station,” he added.

downtown Kampala street

Lunchtime on a downtown Kampala street and the streets are fairly quiet

As I got off the boda boda downtown the next day, half a dozen men from different upcountry bus companies ran towards me and demanded to know where I was going: Lira, Gulu, Masaka, Soroti, where….?

“I’m going to the salooooon,” I answered. (A salon in English, in Uglish it’s a saloon.]

I’m an independent kind of girl so I didn’t call Teddy straightaway; I just thought I’d see whether I could find him first.

A couple of people helpfully offered to guide me to a saloon of their recommendation. He wasn’t in the first one.

Would I recognise him?

In the second salon, I saw a man having his head shaved. Were the dreadlocks coming off? Had he read my mind? Had he read ‘that blog’? Had Julia told him he would have to shave his head? The man’s head was bent forward, so I couldn’t see his face. All I could see were the last two inches of hair being removed by the razor.

The man lifted up his head. It wasn’t Teddy.

Two saloons later and I still hadn’t found him.

In the bustling street, a young man in an orange T-shirt tapped me on the shoulder. I was going to ignore him but he said my name out loud. He introduced himself as Teddy’s brother.

I followed him through the crowded streets into a crammed shopping arcade where we climbed up three flights of stairs. (How would I ever have found this saloon on my own?) And there was Teddy, sitting on the balcony, grinning at me. “I’ve been watching you from up here,” he said.

Guess what? He was having his dreadlocks redone!

Uganda dating. first date. Dreadlocks

A very Ugandan first date. At the hair salon

And you seriously call this a date?

We had some general chitchat and he offered me a soda. We sat and chatted while his brother worked on his hair.

On the salon veranda, overlooking the buses, we ordered lunch: beans, rice, cassava and matooke. He laughed when I said in Luganda “Silya enyama” (I don’t eat meat).

African buffet lunch Gardens Restaurant Fort Portal

A cooked Ugandan lunch comes in one size only: BIG!

The lady from the restaurant looked very impressed that the Muzungu was eating the big plate of “black African food” she’d brought into the saloon for us.

Teddy’s brother encouraged me to clear my plate. “No leftovers or they’ll charge us more,” he quipped.

“I love the UK so much! I love the Queen!” Said Teddy.

Was this supposed to impress me? “Why do you love the Queen?” Quizzed the Muzungu.

“I am a prince.” [Perplexed look on the Muzungu’s face….]

“I know a Prince,” I jumped in, looking for the logic. Was he trying to tell me he’s a monarchist? (I never did get to the bottom of that one).

He next explained that his dad and his sister live in the UK. He showed me a message from his dad saying that he should get a green card for the US. Why he showed me this, I don’t know. [And where did he think I was really from?]

Ugandan hair salon sign

“Trust me with u’r stayle” hair salon, near Mubende, Uganda

We talked a bit about music. “What music do you like? Elton John?” He enquired.

Oh pleeeease. Why do so many Ugandans live in this 1980s musical timewarp? It drives me nuts. (Yes Elton John is an amazing singer/ songwriter but forgive me Elton, your heyday was 30 years ago).

After lunch, Teddy explained that he had left his money at home – a pretty impressive move for a first date.

He said he wanted to buy us lunch, but “could I lend him 5,000 shillings?” [Approx $1.50 / £1.00]

I decided not to make a scene. Lending him money on our first date wasn’t what I had in mind. However, since it would cost me at least this much to eat lunch anywhere else in town, I handed over the 5,000 shillings. He said he would pay me back that afternoon. (Afterwards I asked myself: why didn’t he just ask his brother to pay for lunch?)

Time went by. We ran out of conversation. I looked up at the TV.

His brother noticed I was getting bored and asked me if I’d like to read a magazine, and produced some old copies of African Woman: dated 2006.

What am I doing here? I asked myself…

The average Ugandan seems to spend a lot of their life just sitting around. I can’t do it. This was a work day and I’d come into town – just to meet him. I asked Teddy what he was planning to do for the rest of the day. He said he would be another couple of hours and then he was going to look for 10,000 shillings from one place and 20,000 from another. I told him I had some work to do.

He said he would call me to see about meeting up later. (Could I be bothered… ?)

“My sister!”

To choruses of “my sister” and “jajja,” I worked my way down the street towards Owino market.

The strap of my sandal broke. “Those sandals must be Chinese!” Said a man sitting outside a shop. As I hobbled along, people looked down at the muzungu’s broken sandal, smiled and said “bambi” and “sorry” as the Muzungu limped on by.

A boda driver called out at me “I give you a lift!” A cloud of dust lifted in the air as he SMACKED the seat of his motorbike, in anticipation of the muzungu’s kabina.

Across the road, a man with a handful of T-shirts beckoned me.

“Here is the tailor,” he said.

cobbler shoes Owino market Kampala

The shy tailor – cobbler – was delighted for me to take his photo. Fixing my sandals outside Owino market, Kampala

Just outside the entrance to Owino, next to the open sewer, an old man sat hunched under a big umbrella fixing shoes in the dust. He gave me a wooden stool to sit on, a perfect vantage point for watching men on the opposite bank of the sewer playing dominoes and urinating against the wall.

Within minutes, my sandal was expertly fixed, for just 2,000 Uganda shillings (not the 20,000 shillings some chancer tried to rob me of another time!)

I went into town looking for love. Instead, I got a shy smile from the old cobbler.

Actually, I couldn’t have been happier.

cobbler shoes Owino market Kampala

Not the best view in Kampala but certainly the best shoe repair prices!

STOP PRESS: I hear that Teddy has lost the dreads. I did agree to see him a second time – but this time he bounced, his phone went off and I didn’t get a call or explanation for a whole week. Some people are so unserious!

Why do Muzungu women like dating Rastas?

Someone recently asked me: “Why do Muzungu women like dating Rastas?”

If you want to know what’s really going on in mixed relationships, tell me what you think of this one? Some of the experiences shared our explicit.

I’d never really considered Muzungu / Ugandan relationships in that light, and then I thought – with a pang – of the guy I’d been seeing on and off for a year. At the time it never occurred to me he fitted into that category. It ended disastrously – but it had its moments.

THANK YOU: This article was originally commissioned by Arnie Petit, Editor of Empazi Magazine. Thanks for believing in me Arnie. I hope we get a chance to work together again in the future.

So what did I like about Dr Rasta?

In a (mostly) conservative country like Uganda, you’re often judged on your appearance. If you don’t fit in with the status quo, people are going to comment. Perhaps that’s why I like the Rasta look on some men: I like a man who’s not afraid to stand up for himself when challenged.

In Uganda, Rastas or ‘Rasta lookalikes’ symbolise non-conformism. To us Westerners, that can be hot! – we come from societies where self-expression through your personal image is quite normal, encouraged even.

In Uganda, most people agree that Rastas are “either artists, layabouts or career Muzungu daters.” But are those the real Rastas or just the cosmetic variety?

What is a Rasta really?

Rasta refers (incorrectly) to “any person having dreadlocks.”

“True Rastafarians believe that Ethiopia’s Emperor Haile Selassie a.k.a. Ras Tafari was the second coming of Christ. Rastafarianism is a common religion amongst black Jamaicans and deeply rooted in African culture. Rastas eat a diet of vegetables, fruit and fish and keep their bodies, mind and soul healthy by staying active in global issues. To be Rastafarian you don’t have to be black; in fact Rastafarianism has to come from the heart. A Rasta does not cut his hair. Rastas are famous for smoking marijuana as a symbol of religious practice.”

Real Rastas – of which there are very few in Uganda it seems – do not touch alcohol.

So for the sake of this article, I have thrown the cosmetic and the real into one big cultural melting pot. Real Rastas, please do not take offence. I echo the sentiments of this guy, who said: “Come on people, think about it before you all start judging dem Rastas. RASTA IS SWEET, COOL, CALM AND COLLECTED WITH A SENSE OF TLC (tender loving care) AND REALITY. The beer thing, hehehe too funny… real Rasta don’t drink…”

What do you say Muzungu ladies?

I’ve spent the last few weeks pondering this question and asked girlfriends why do white women go for Rastas? I posted this same question on Facebook – and then it got interesting!

“Date a Rasta? Ugh, no way! You must be joking – you don’t know what’s living in that hair!” Julia said.

Anja echoed my thoughts: “Rastas are generally a lot more liberal than most Ugandans. They’re less conservative.”

To some women, Rastas represent the exotic. Having dreadlocks or being dark-skinned does not define your “Africaness” – but maybe the ‘first time to Africa’ Muzungu hasn’t worked that out yet?

On Facebook, Tio commented “It’s all about perceptions of “exoticness”, which is why you have Bazungu women falling all over themselves for Masaai men, drape, spear and all.”

One attraction of the Rasta is that they’re easy for us Bazungu to recognise them. Why? Because with their shaved heads, every Ugandan man can look the same from a distance – at least when you first arrive in the country. The Rastas stand out, they are easy to spot in the crowd. We don’t have the embarrassment of mistaking one black face for another!

Personally, I like big hair anyway (I guess us white ladies are used to guys with hair!)

Ugandan hair salon sign

“Trust me with u’r stayle” hair salon, near Mubende, Uganda

After four years, each black face is as different to me as every white one but when I first came to Uganda, I couldn’t remember who was who. I would try and remember each lady by their hairstyle. “Rose has a red bob, Sarah has a weave. Got it!” That didn’t help much, as I soon learned Ugandan ladies like to DRAMATICALLY change their hairstyle every couple of weeks!

Back to dem Rastas and, when I asked a male Ugandan friend why do white women go for Rastas? He said “I have the answer and I know I’m right.”

“These Rasta guys have a lot of time on their hands. They don’t work. He’s got plenty of time to show her the sights and show her around. The conversation might not be meaningful but that’s not what either of them is after. These guys know how to play the game,” my male friend said. “They’ll learn how to dance, they’ll learn how to make love.

The Muzungu lady often falls in love with the Rasta. He’ll say he loves her. She’ll then spend the next couple of years going backwards and forwards between Uganda and her home country trying to keep the relationship alive. These girls come and go. There’s always a new supply coming through and any bad behaviour can be forgotten (by him at least) when she leaves the country.”

As one person neatly summed up, “The thing about a Muzungu-Rasta relationship is that it is so disposable.”

Jane, who has several years experience managing volunteers in Uganda, gave her opinion on why Muzungu girls like Rastas:

“Rastas know where the parties are. They tend to hang out in a ‘posse’ so hooking up with a Rasta = instant friends. We know Rastas have essentially unlimited experience with little white girls, so they know how to talk to them. There are no awkward silences. Rastas do not care how dirty the girl’s feet are, or the last time she showered. They only care about whether or not she is buying him beer.

Jane added “They (and many African men) can talk your pants off. Even if you are unattractive by your culture’s standards, they will make you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.”

One Ugandan male advised “if you are gonna hit on a mzungu girl in Uganda, never wear a freaking tie or talk about your big meetings.” He asks “why do mzungu ladies stay clear of corporate/learned Africans? I have ever hit on a mzungu chick before, but I was either too smart an African or I was not talking dumb enough. It is my unschooled and unkempt Rasta friend who scored.”

Ow. Sorry!

Does the Rasta Muzungu relationship start with drugs?

“Most ‘zungu babes I know smoke weed… [the ones this Facebooker knows anyway!] … their suppliers happen to be Rastafarians, I guess one thing leads to another …”

This Muzungu’s theory is that black, white or brown – ‘girls like a bad boy’ – and in this case Rastas often fit the bill (superficially at least). That’s why the Muzungu girls are going with them rather than the corporate Ugandans. If a white girl’s dating a corporate Ugandan, hell she might as well just date a corporate guy from back home. (Where’s the excitement in that?)

Radio or Weazel 'Wizo'

Guess who the muzungu bumps into at Club Silk, Kampala? ‘Wizo’ a.k.a. Weazel

Also on Facebook, Richard adds that the Muzungu girls “think that all Rastas have big Mandingo dicks and last for hours. Whether true or not, Rastas live up to the bad boy reputation with drugs and alcohol binges that, rather incongruously, make them attractive to Beckies traipsing aimlessly around Africa looking for adventure they can’t find back home.” Just say it like it is Richard!

So would this Muzungu lady date a Rasta?

Despite the bullshit, the sweet talk and the dance moves can be very seductive.

I’d go in with my eyes open (and condoms on!) and an absolute certainty that I’m just one of a number he’s playing with. To entertain any other idea is craziness. Exceptions may exist – but my advice? Enjoy the moment, but don’t kid yourself you’ve found the only faithful “Rasta.” So tell me your experience – anonymously if you like! – what’s the attraction between Muzungu women and Rastas?

So tell me your experience?

UPDATE:

What did I say to Julia?

After one dating disaster too many I joked that “if another guy with dreadlocks wants to date me, the first thing he has to do is shave his head.” Next in my dating series: Downtown dreadlocks. The muzungu’s blind date.

How to date a Ugandan

A blog post about dating in Uganda will not suffice. This material fills at least one book!

Ugandan men can be handsome and very charming.

They know how to tell women what we want to hear. Delivery of promises is an altogether different issue!

I’ve had more marriage proposals in Uganda than in the whole of my life.

I’ve been promised love, marriage, children (natural and adopted), meeting the family and even a house overlooking Lake Victoria!

And what have I got? My fingers burned – more than once …

I love the idea of having a relationship with a Ugandan man but the reality of mixed relationships is harder than I thought it would be, for many reasons.

It’s quite usual for your male Ugandan suitor to be:

  1. married
  2. living with someone
  3. a father of many children
  4. simultaneously with any number of girlfriends

– or all four!

Bare-faced lies are very common.

Still, Muzungu ladies are very popular and we all like attention don’t we 😉

Dating Uganda. Mixed Muzungu Ugandan relationships can be challenging. How to date a Ugandan. Dating Uganda

Mixed Muzungu Ugandan relationships can be challenging. How to date a Ugandan. Dating Uganda

Make your own mind up ladies but don’t believe everything you hear. Enjoy the moment, as that’s probably all it is, despite what they say. Just don’t take it too seriously – and insist on condoms every time! Yes I’m being explicit …

The Uganda dating issue is going to run and run!

If you enjoyed this post, you’ll LOVE these:

Why do muzungu ladies like dating rastas?

Downtown dreadlocks – the Muzungu’s blind date

What’s your experience of mixed race relationships?

Please leave a comment here, I’d love to hear from you. (Just don’t ask me to hook you up with one of my friends!)