Affirmative Action?

Well, my brother keeps riding me to post new entries despite my simple routine, so I will attempt to cater to his whims. I've written about my daily life here, and covered some of the more major events as far as school goes and whatnot, but I suppose that I've somewhat ignored the rest of my experience here. How the Tanzanians outside of my school setting live and breathe, how I relate to them, cultural differences and so on. Well, a few years ago I took a short month-long vacation to Japan. Prior to departing, I spent a decent amount of time studying up on customs and so on, in order to not commit any drastic mistakes (such as shaking hands with your left here...look it up). In my inquiries, I found many testaments to the disparation that occured between the Japanese people and the "gaijin," also known as me. From reading these accounts, I had fully expected to be ogled, asked to be in pictures, converse in English, and a myriad of other activities. Well, somewhat to my disappointment this did not happen, in the least. Once, when I was on a small local train near a small local village near the larger (and wonderful) village of Nara, two small children were amazed by my presence, and came over to see if I was real. I managed to mangle a Japanese greeting and picked one up and swung him around. They were pretty happy about that. But seriously, other than that I felt like I was just another person, especially in Tokyo.
I suppose you can see where I am headed with this... Anyway, before coming here to Tanzania, I didn't study about customs (Peace Corps gives us plenty of in-country instruction on all subjects), and I didn't hear any stories of alienation or recognition of racial difference. In fact, perhaps due to my Japanese experience, I assumed that white folks were just another part of life here and that Tanzanians were no longer impacted by our presence. Not so. The walk from Ihungo Secondary to Bukoba town takes me through several miles of small, rural homesteads and pseudo-villages. Well, I didn't hear the word gaijin once when I was in Japan, but let me say that its Swahili equivalent, "mzungu," has become omnipresent. I have become so attuned to this word that I can pick it out when a small child tries to yell to me from a quarter mile away. Which happens for the entirety of the walk. "Mzungu! Mzungu!" Once the chant begins, all the children running about these ruralities (and like I said, there are many, many children here) pick it up, and it becomes my mantra. Occasionally, on the more celebrant days, a horde of children will form a party behind me, clapping their hands with each successive chant. This continues, with varying frequency, everywhere here. Heads turn, and the "Hey look, a white guy!" shouts begin. It is a strange feeling, to be so obviously in the minority, and have it thrown in my face constantly.
What does all this attention mean? Well, for one, I cannot be discreet. When I'm around, people know it. Some days I'll hear yells from behind houses, from bathrooms, from god-knows-where. Some fellow going about his business heard the chant and picked it up, despite having no idea who he is yelling at. So discretion is out the window, get used to being noticed. Alright, I've squared myself with that one. What about favors? Its known, by us and the Tanzanians, the polarization in money between our countries. So this attention attracts some particularly needy or sometimes lazy folks who try soliciting us for any number of things. Requests either myself or Aaron have received range from "Give me your sugar to help my sore teeth" to "Take to to America with you," and more generally are concerning our spare change. That problem is a bit harder to handle than all the shouts. What to do...? I know that I can afford, easily afford, to toss a few shillings the way of that guy who's got polio and can't walk. But then what? Everytime he sees me, he expects the same treatment, and even extrapolates that behavior to all Americans. We all have extra money, and should help out those in more dire need, and if we don't, well that's because we are bad people. This is not my line of thought, but its one I've been introduced to. What do you think? I am polite and greet people, but thats where it ends for now. The poverty level is too high for me to make any difference greater than the one I am attempting to make by teaching.
Before you think, "That must be terrible to not have any privacy once you leave your house," or some such thought, I must defend the Tanzanians. One well-placed greeting will cause the multitude of chanting children to erupt into joy that the white man knows how to say hi. A smile is always, always matched with a smile the same size, if not bigger. So on most days, not only is the "mzungu" song tolerated, I take it with a smile. There is no insult intended, they are just happy and surprised to see me, the legendary white beast. Its a strange welcome, but an earnest, if a bit overdone. I'll try to remain good-humored about it (some foreigners take it as the most wicked of insults and end up bitter and resentful) and greet stares with smiles, yells with hellos.