White Christmas

I'm taking in the scene outside my window - lush green ferns, the graceful arch of tall trees, a carpet of happily thriving grass, flowers of every color - all bathed in the light of the African sun. It's not exactly a "white Christmas", but then we provide a noticeable amount of white every time we walk out the door. So it all comes together for a distinctly Tanzanian Christmas.  If it makes you a bit uncomfortable to have me refer to my skin color so lightly (pun unintended, but now that it's out, let's go with it), you just have to come and live here for a bit.  For example, it's fairly common for strangers to yell out, "mzungu!" (white person) as we walk by; a toddler hid from me and his mother explained that he was afraid because he'd not seen a white person before; a little girl held on to Tim's hand then started rubbing his arm intently while grinning from ear to ear.  We've been introduced as the "white people" by the emcee at a party of some African friends. When we walk out of our house, our identity as whites goes trumpeting out before us. It's just the way it is. As a person who likes to stroll about incognito, it's been one thing I'm adjusting to. Usually,  the spirit behind the interactions is friendly and warm and light hearted. We choose to receive it in that same spirit. (And on the rare occasion when it's not, we pray He enables us to be gracious, understanding that life and history is a mixed bag.) And speaking of spirit - His Spirit dwells within us and Jesus Christ said, "Lo, I am with you always." And the white doesn't rub off. So... see? Everyday is a white Christmas... with the deep, rich ebony of Tanzania all around.  (-: