The Rwandan population seems to have a very definite idea of what the average visibly distinctive muzungu likes to hear when they walk down the street. 

By visibly distinctive I mean, of course, white - which I am. I am also taking responsibility for muzungus everywhere when I say it’s always important, for example, to be reminded at least every 50 paces that we look really very different from everyone else.

In case we don’t reply on the first cry, it’s a safe bet to assume we are simply waiting for you to insist – muzungu!  Usually, however, we are a little confused as to what to answer.

Everything we do is watched with interest.  If we walk down a busy Kigali street, people mutter. If we haggle for our weekly shopping at Kimironko market, we cause a scene. If we get around by moto, we cause much hilarity among passers-by.

We are quite literally making people laugh just by existing! Ahh, it feels good to spread such joy and good feeling. I am being sarcastic, of course. 

Most muzungus I know in Rwanda love this country and although they stay for varying lengths of time and for very different reasons, the one thing that does make us all alike is how much we all leave a little bit of ourselves behind when we leave.

In my first three months of being in this country, I had over ten offers of marriage. Now I am a lovable, intelligent, funny and rather wonderful individual. Arrogant too it seems. But even for me, these constant proposals sent my head into a spin.

I felt wanted and admired and after 28 years of not being married in Europe, I suddenly had too many suitors than I knew what to do with! 

For this reason, and in recognition of the sterling efforts mentioned above, what follows is a guide for local readers; how to marry a muzungu.

The rules of play: For Rwandan men

• If a muzungu tells you she is over 23 and single/not married do not laugh.  The romantic life of strangers is not generally seen as ‘fair game for a giggle’ in Europe or North America, or anywhere else we might call home. 

Habitually accused of being ‘reserved’ or ‘cold’ by our hosts, it may just be that we have a different notion of privacy to your average east-central African.

• If a muzungu tells you she is over 25 and does not yet have any children do not laugh.  In addition, never, under any circumstances, indicate worry that she might be getting too old to bear you the requisite number of children demanded by your mother. 

Fear is not an aphrodisiac under any circumstances and by adding to a normal woman’s list of neuroses, you are not doing anyone any favours, least of all yourself.

• Do not propose marriage within the first week of meeting a muzungu.  As much as we will tell you that we do believe in love at first sight and we really really really wish it would happen to us, the truth is that when a man proposes marriage so soon, we treat it with incredulity and suspicion. 

Especially when we have heard him make the same kind offer to at least two of our friends on the same evening.  Not only are we then snubbed and offended that you did not come to us first, but we also know that your offer is insincere at best and sinister at worst.

• Do not expect a muzungu to answer your questions about study and work abroad on your first dates. Women everywhere like to feel intelligent and as though they are important in contributing to a husband’s life plans. 

Under no circumstances is being a surrogate to an embassy’s visa and immigration department an adequate or satisfactory substitute for this feeling.

• Do not comment on a muzungu’s future employment prospects too early in your courtship. The watchwords here are: encouragement and free choice. In no way must we feel that we have been tricked into a decision that will affect our romantic chances.

• Despite all appearances to the contrary, not all muzungus are wealthy or in the enviable position of being able to call up vast reserves of disposable income at a moment’s notice.

Many, especially the young ones, may have put themselves into considerable debt in order to indulge their selfish fantasies of running far away from home and hoarding enough stories to suitably impress their compatriots when they eventually return.

• Then again, many muzungus earn far too much money for taking all the jobs that should rightfully go to Rwandans. They also have the gross indecency to complain that they are not earning enough because their pay-cheque is not as big as Bill Gate’s. 

These people are repulsive and best avoided. If you propose marriage to one of them and they accept, you deserve all the calamitous consequences which undoubtedly will follow.

• If you feel the need to discuss your intentions towards or your observations about a muzungu with any friends you may have present while also in her company, be aware that most of us understand the term (muzungu) as it is shouted, hissed, whispered, stammered and sung at us at least 150 times a day. 

If we know you are talking about us (and laughing with your friends) but cannot understand what you are saying, we are less likely to agree to anything else you may propose that evening.

• Do not under any circumstances describe the joyous state of marriage to a muzungu as hard work. Most of us live our lives in a perpetual state of denial of life’s extreme realities and there is no reason to insist on anything to the contrary.

Especially if you are trying to convince us to marry you.  Marriage must be held up as a fairytale state where nothing bad will ever happen, where we do not need to work hard just to keep it alive and where we will never – ever – have to compete with anyone or anything else. 

Cultural differences are under no circumstances a legitimate defence for extra-marital ‘fun’. Muzungus will retaliate, with violence if necessary, to prove this point.

My last point is an old one but a good one: just be yourself.  As long as this doesn’t contravene points 1-9, that is.

The rules of play: For Rwandan women

• Do not believe anything he says. Ever. Men are the same everywhere.

• In the sincere wish that it proves useful to this paper’s distinguished readership, this article is dedicated to one Patrice, who sold me a cold soda on the road from Ruhengeri to Kigali and proposed marriage to me before I had taken my first sip.

Bubbles Kennington is a citizen of the United Kingdom. She lives in Kigali. No, she is not married.

Ends