The Novelty of Being the Only Mzungu in the Village

In Tanzania, it is common for the kids to say to me, whatever time of day it is, "Good morning". This is because in school they are taught to say good morning, in the morning. I guess the education system failed to tell them what "morning" translates to Swahili.
It is also usual for Elaine to be called Mama or Mama Ndogu (Basically, younger sister of my mama) or Mama Mkubwa (older sister of Mama). It's a well respected thing for someone to be old and for women to be fat. Sign of wealth and wisedom I guess. Anyway, the kids usually call Elaine whatever they feel suitable by putting her in same age bracket of their family. What isn't usual for me to be called Baba(father). Rarely but sometimes, older guys call me Kaka (brother) but usually the kids simply say Mzungu.

While making a routine 5,000tsh phone call to Kristin, there were 4 children nearby giggling anytime I looked at them and a (delirious looking) child of about 2 years (possibly the one who pissed itself right on front of me before) walked over to me.
It (no way of telling if it was a he or she so it's an it to me) stopped basically 15cm from my knees and looked up and stared at me.
(Under Kristin's orders, I was not to kick the baby ! It was only a suggestion.)
One of the giggling children came over and picked her up to bring her away at the same time an old man passing by, told them something and made hand gestures to which a Mzungu would take as "Leave the Mzungu alone and go away".

After I was finished on the phone and with all the children nearby, I finished my bottle of Pepsi as the children proceeded to say "Good morning Father".
I thought this was hilarious and replied politely "Good morning" (at 7.30pm). This seemed to encourage them to shout after me as I walked away "Good morning Father".

While in a souvaneir shop in Slipway (the white man/tourist's area to hang out), I told the woman I'd be back since I'm here for 2 months. She asked what I was doing here, blah blah blah, but when she asked me where am I staying, I said Magomeni, she said "No you don't." I said I did and eventually she believed me when I said spefically where. "It's a very local Tanzanian area and some people don't like it there" was the responce to why she didn't believe me. Telling her the dala dala route I took to Slipway also suprised her but convinced her I do live in Magomeni.
She was suprised I take a dala dala. I asked the price of a chair, "25,000" she said. "20,000" I replied. "23,000" she negotiated. "I live in Magomeni, 20,000".
She accepted and then said that Magomeni isn't that bad.

Recently while at one of the many local chippers, a guy came up to me. He had a squashed up face like the man in the Irish bar sign but on a young black man. To make it easy, I shall call him Squishy Face. So anyway, Squishy Face asked me for 1,000tsh. I said no. 500tsh. No. 100tsh. No! "Ok my friend, 1,000tsh" and it went down to 100tsh again. After making some joke about me in Swahili to another guy, he said "Ok my friend, I will try again tomorrow". Fantastic I thought. 2 days later, at the same chipper, Squishy Face was talking to a man in a suit who was making excuses why he didn't have money (in English for some reason). The man saw me and being a kind soul, told the Squishy Face to practise his English on the Mzungu. I looked at the man in the suit and said no. Then Squishy Face looked at me and shouted with delight, "Aaah, my friend !!" I loudly told the man in the suit I'm not talking to Squishy Face and thankfully I think Squishy Face heard me and left me alone.

Being the only Mzungu in the village does have some benefits. The entire group of taxi men that are near where I play football all know they are dropping me to Fundakira in Magomeni for 7,000tsh. No negotiation needed. I hated negotiating prices here.
The guy I buy phone credit off knows that mostly I want 5,000tsh Zantel. I've even asked for 1,000tsh and he won't understand my Swahili and produce 5,000tsh. He allows me to walk off with a bottle of Coke and knows I will return the bottle.
I've had some really stupid times where I had to stand outside the shop and finish it. I'm not the only Mzungu at the University but probably the only one who eats in the cafe in the basement. They know what I eat for breckfast and lunch.
I don't even know what they are called. They also know I don't speak Swahili and make fun sometimes, fun fun !

Ah well, it's all fun and games down here in the Southern hemisphere.... depending on my mood which is why I hate the guys that shout Mzungu at me when I'm cycling in to work. Cycling home I don't care.