Anonymity, adjective "anonymous", is derived
from the Greek word ἀνωνυμία, anonymia, meaning "without a name" or
"namelessness".
A stark difference between Lilongwe and
Warsaw is the reality of sticking out vs. fitting in. In my mind, there are two
lenses that I see this through: race (including all the privilege, stereotypes,
baggage, etc. that comes with it) and language (also a real possibility that
plenty of privilege, stereotypes, and baggage come with it as well).
In Lilongwe, it was not
uncommon to find yourself in the market, on the street, anywhere really, and be
the only white face (peach face? pink face? useful to contemplate a broader
conversation about the words used to describe race that generally mirror a
light vs. dark dichotomy, but perhaps another time...) amid many black and
brown faces. The well-trodden path of the white person in Africa, without a doubt.
Of course, in the sometime (much of the time?) “expat bubble” (another
conversation for another time – framing someone as an expat vs. immigrant) we
found ourselves in that was not always the case and was exactly opposite with
virtually all white faces, but anyhow.
For some it was intoxicating,
like a drug; someone described it to me as feeling like they were
"famous" when he felt like he was noticed by Malawian women on a
regular basis (I should attempt to be less judgmental about the stunning lack
of awareness this perspective takes considering the socio-economic disparity at
play in that scenario, but...). This goes hand in hand with the power dynamic
that comes with being the "mzungu" in Malawi, an unearned deference
when many always consider you "bwana" (boss). There is more to be
written on the personality of the people of Malawi, and the certain tranquility
and deference that is seen generally there, but in any event this generally
racial power dynamic can also lend itself to a strange juxtaposition: making
some feel powerful and self-important even though it’s not deserved (definitely
a vestige of colonialism, neo-colonialism, the continued importance put on
development money and aid workers, etc.) and others who expected (more, or
at least some, in any case) attitude or resentment that would assumingly come
with being the shared race of a former colonizer and/or the race of the
perpetual exploiter.
This also fits right in with not
forgetting that in Malawi one luxury (for someone from the U.S. or other
English speaking countries who is for all practical purposes monolingual) is
that English is the official government language, and despite any argument that
this vestige of colonialism is harmful to the most vulnerable (poorest, least educated,
most rural, etc.) by limiting access to government services and the courts, it
is part of the historical narrative of being a former British colony (and
Portuguese prior to that) and the educated and elite of this particular place
(and many like it) having incentive to keep English as the official language...
Most places you go, definitely in
Lilongwe, people speak at the least a fair amount of English and most of the
time excellent English - to my later point about feeling anxiety and tension, for
me it took the edge off feeling out of place, that’s for sure.
Maybe always sticking out simply due to
race does bring with it a certain “namelessness.” You are not always seen for who
you are, but instead are a caricature of what you look like instead? I’ve
certainly witnessed people gravitating toward this anonymity of simply being
another white bwana (and fwiw, in Malawi there are also plenty of stereotypes
about Asian bwanas acting malicious, in some cases worse that mzungu bwanas, but
I digress), acting belligerent toward Malawians, due to the power dynamics at
play. I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit that I found myself in situations
where I lost my cool, my temper, and acted in a way toward people (that
happened to be brown skinned Malawians) that I am ashamed about. Why did I get
away with it to myself or others, or where did my subconscious allow me to go
in that direction in the first place? (in a word, or two - privilege, man)
For many, always sticking out
brings a certain underlying tension or anxiety to it- of course, right? It is
virtually impossible to feel anonymous or that you just fit in when you are
always "different." In the context of the current political push against
immigrants in the U.S. or Europe, for instance, can you imagine having that
anxiety and tension and instead of possessing a racial power dynamic being
subjected to the prejudices and biases of being a person of color? That doesn’t
even consider that this anxiety and tension is virtually assured to be
compounded by being far from home, with many in stressful or emergency
circumstances, in many cases not having the finances to allow for easy
transition, maybe not understanding the culture or the language, and hearing
that people don’t want you there to begin with or that you come from a “shithole”
country (unless you’re from Norway, of course). Throw in the stress that comes
with trying to assimilate to a new place with taking care of children, or older
relatives, perhaps, and I think it’s safe to say we don’t adequately empathize
with people coming to our countries trying to establish and safe and meaningful
life for themselves. Running from war. Running from poverty. Running from
hopelessness. Running from oppression or persecution. Coming to a place that is
supposed to provide hope, and opportunity, and safety.
We should be better. Diatribe over.
Next time: anonymity - "without a
name" (part 2, Warsaw)
