The White Invasion

Grade 6 English was in full swing this morning, learning about Nelson Mandela, when all of the sudden the class went absolutely berserk over something out the window.

Three large, decked-out Land Cruisers were parked in the schoolyard, out of which several strangely dressed Afrikaaners were unloading themselves.

OH MY GOD THE WHITE PEOPLE ARE COMING. Freak out time.

Mornings in Orotjitombo are cold, and here are these burly chaps in short cargo shorts and floral t-shirts. Completely alien.

Of course, I had no idea what was going on because I’m rarely told anything. But according to my students, I should not only know why they are here, I should know their name, occupation, and favorite color, because I know every white person on the planet.

One of my more mischievous learners pipes up:

“Miss, is it your uncle?”

“No,” I answer. “Is it your uncle?”

Hysterical laughter.

“Miss, it is my brother. I sent him to get the cattle a yesterday.”

“Yes, you look like each other.”

Giggles. “Yes, this is uhh…the shoe polish,” gesturing at his face.

Absolutely bonkers, this one.

Also, impressed he knew the term shoe polish.

And so I went on to Grade 7 Science. Class was going…going…knock knock. Enter Deputy Principal Beredy. “Uhh, Miss May. Sorry to disturb. These people are doing a lesson for Upper Primary. We need the learners in the hall.”

Ah ha. Turns out our unexpected guests are mission workers from South Africa, travelling around the region teaching about the Bible to different schools. Since white people are a curiosity at Orotjitombo, even for me, I decided to check it out.

I walk into the hall and pass Mr. South Africa #1. I look at him. He looks at me. I hear him say, “Hoe gaan dit?” which I recognize as how are you.

Nope, wrong kind of white. Sorry, chief. “I don’t speak Afrikaans.” (with the exception of being able to insult your mother)

“Oh. What language do you speak?”

“English.”

“And do you speak the local language?”

“…err…no.”

“Huh.”

Meanwhile, 2 of my coworkers are conversing with Mr. South Africa #2 in fluent Afrikaans. They know 3 languages fluently. No big deal.

Where’s my Rosetta Stone for Afrikaans and Otjiherero at? Oh, they don’t have one? Shucks.

I stay for the Bible lesson, pretending that I know what is being said (in Afrikaans, translated to Otjiherero). I put a really serious look on my face and adopt a nonchalant stance. I’m very good at this by now.

One of my coworkers looks over at me and does a suppressed sort of laugh. “May…? You look as if you know what is going on.”

“Mrs. Ngunaihe, I’ve not a clue.”

Again with the sniggering.

I’m just a crack-up today.

Mrs. Afrikaaner approaches. “So, you are from the USA? It is a lot different here, isn’t it?”

I almost said Does a bear shit in the woods? Thankfully, I stopped myself before the words reached my lips. I don’t think a preacher’s wife would appreciate my humorous vulgarity.

Plus, I don’t think they have bears in Africa. So that would be culturally inappropriate.

My filter is running low on batteries today.

Lucky for me, though, our guests have caused such hullabaloo, that the rest of the school day was cut short to clean the school and hopefully work the giddiness out of the learners. Dankie, South Africans. I no longer have to worry about the involuntary sass coming out of my mouth.