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I like the post!!! White…Black…Red…I’m none of these. I don’t identify as a crayon in a coloring box!

Thanks for sharing!

People sometimes joke that I am not like other white people living in Zambia. I usually laugh, but there is some truth in it.

First, when a pet dies, I do not feel the need for a full funeral service. I will bury the animal in the garden, say a quiet goodbye, and carry on with life. Death is sad, but it is also part of life.

Second, if I see a snake in my garden, I am not trying to hug it, rescue it, or take selfies with it. I am calling the gardener or someone who knows what they are doing and can deal with it immediately. I am scared of snakes. I am not pretending otherwise.

Third, when I go to a public office, I join the queue. I do not look for a reason to jump it. I do not scan the room to see who I know or how my accent might help me. I stand there like everyone else and wait my turn.

Fourth, if I hit a roadblock while driving, I treat the officers with courtesy. I greet them properly, call them sir, and remember that I am a guest in their country and they are doing their job. If I am caught speeding, I acknowledge that I was driving too fast and accept the consequences. I do not argue. I do not talk my way out of it. And I certainly do not offer brown envelopes.

Fifth, I am not in WhatsApp groups that exist purely for white people. I find that deeply strange and honestly quite perverse. If a group only works by excluding everyone else, then it tells you everything you need to know about the mindset behind it.

And finally, if my car breaks down or I have an electrical or plumbing problem at home, I do not go hunting for a white technician. I trust local skilled people, mechanics, electricians, plumbers, tradespeople who know their work and do it properly. Skill does not come with a passport.

None of this makes me special. It just makes me human. And maybe that is the point.