Deirdre Stoelzle,
Casper, WY.
In Rwanda there were times that I was the first white person some Rwandans had ever seen. Mostly people wanted to touch my skin, my hair, but at one prison there were two little girls with their mother, bringing food to their imprisoned father. They saw me and screamed in horror. I crouched down, cooing my safety to them. They kept whimpering, shaking. “There’s nothing you can do,” my interpreter said. “In the village they say ‘If you’re bad the muzungu will come and eat you.'”
