I sat across from a beautiful African girl. She asked me, why do muzungus have hair? And I really couldn't answer her, Africans are so much smarter than us. She told me about school and what she was learning. She spoke with such good english, I knew that she was clever, much clever than me who after 6 years cannot speak more than a few sentences in German. She told me about the food she makes and I couldn't even desribe the food I make... mac and cheese, are you kidding me? She asked me how many children were women supposed to produce. She told of her desire to go to America and go to university, but she had no money. She touched my pale skin and I touched hers and that's when I knew that she was my African equivilent. I told her that people in America did everything they could to get dark skin like hers. She was floored, she said, Americans want to be black?? If I went to America they would want to be me? I didn't want to correct her because I wanted it to be true. I still don't know if I did the right thing, but hopefully I did not murder her dreams.
Last week I was humbled when my best friend asked me, on bended knee, to spend forever with him. Just one week later a small Ugandan girl, with that same action, begged me just to touch my hand. So much has happened in this one week, but already I feel like I did nothing to enjoy the luxury that I enjoy.