How does it feel to be a white (wo)man in Mozambique

Msungu! Msungu! Sista! Sista! (meaning> Sister) Good morning! Hau aar yuu? Teacher! Teacher!... These are just a few of the lines that follow us, well, basically everywhere. Only the word teacher is used just here, in Lamego village by local kids. All the white people are Teachers for them. They love to follow us whereever we go and it is quite funny and a bit scary at the same time. Once, me and Barbara (also working in Teacher Training College... well, kind of) gave.. actually, tried to give a "lesson" in local primary school for about 100 children under a tree while it was raining. We really TRIED to teach them "Head, and shoulders, knees and toes..." and after 20 minutes we were exhausted and our voices were dead. The circle of dozens of curious, wondering and poorly dressed children was closing in around us in seconds. It started as a half circle with respective gap of about 2-3 metres between us and them. By the time we finished, there was almost no space to move around in the circle shared by us two and our faithful dogs Diablo and Nockout. So, we got out of the circle, somehow. And to our great shock, when we were about to leave the school yard, turning around, we saw that most of these children (remember, there was more than 100 of them, or so it seamed, at least) were just a few feet from us, stopping when we stopped and walking on when we did so. Scary.. After different actions (threat, asking nicely, begging, and repeating simple international word STOP) they finally did stay behind, only few of them still after us, giggling and turning their backs when we looked back.
When we enter the village alone, children are usually more couragious and this means, they have more guts to ask us for things. Give me money. Give me 1000 meticais. Give me bread. Give me, give me, give me... But it's hardly as bad as it is in Beira or any other bigger place. They don't care wether you're in a group or alone, beggars finding you from the crowd is a question of minutes. Little kids guiding their blind (?) mothers are one of the ones we should keep our eyes on as they might just try to confuse us and pick our pockets while we look for pennies from our purses (which we never do). There are also motionless old women by the walls or bridges, just like stones fixed to a creepy position with their heads down, almost touching the dusty ground and their palms facing the sky, always there and always empty. Sometimes you can hear some of them singing, or maybe praying, or maybe not.
By the way, the Mozambiqians hardly ever use the word thank you. It's not just common. We always get funny, even astonished looks when we thank while getting the change in the store or while leaving the chapa (local transport) etc. When we give something to somebody, wether food for the ladies that bring us water, or sometimes cookies for their children, or even some extra information for a student or whatever, we almost never ever hear thanks. It's not that I feel they should be endlessly grateful for us, it's just that it's a bit strange how they really do not use this word. At all...
Unless.. yeah, there actually are some exceptions. One of the big cases of thank you is the Police. But I guess that's part of some other story. Let's stick to the being white in Mozambique.
Being white means usually that you come from America, or sometimes Portugal. It ALWAYS means you are rich, and should give. Anything, just give it. It makes me really sad every once in a while. Often I feel like that's all they see in me. For example, one day I spent several marvellous hours in the village with some kids I know, they showed me the river where they take a bath and wash their clothes, we played football in their "backyard", I was even kindly forced to sit down with them for lunch in their about 4x4 metre hut (capacity - 7 people) etc. After that, we headed to the volunteer house to have a literacy hour with them and one of the older kids (whom I didn't know before), said that he won't come unless I give him bread. Well, too bad. I've already learned some good asnwers to the Askers. Do I look like a bank? You want 1000? Give me 5000! Let's sit down and talk instead. etc. But, of course, usually I just ignore them. It's impossible to react to all the people who react when they see you. I see some volunteers trying to do it, anwering to all the Hellos and other poor Kind-of-English greetings. To all the people who wave when you pass, wether on foot or in a car/chapa. Well, I also try to wave back. But I won't react to all these guys who think I'm their lost Sista whom they've finally found and if they say something especially stupid, I love to suprise them, shooting something sharp in Portuguese.
Today we were waiting for a car in Beira to pick us up (they never came, so we took a chapa instead, eventually) and as we were tired, we sat on the pavement by the only supermarket around (Shoprite!). We got even more attention than usually. Msungus, and sitting on the ground! No self-respectful Mozambiqian would ever do that, that's a place for beggars and children, maybe. So several of them stopped, thinking there's something wrong with us, like maybe we got robbed or we're feeling sick or whatever. They were shocked, hearing that we're perfectly fine and just resting our feet. The people who were looking us with most disgust at that moment, were actually all the whites, passing in JEEPs and other big cars (there are no small cars here, really, just big ones).

Lamego, 31.03.2006