At the beginning of my Kenya sojourn, when I was in the getting-to-know-each-other phase with the children, the following happened: we were sitting inside the "playing" room, just about to finish watching a cartoon. After their afternoon naps, the absent little ones began slowly trickling into the room. I could hear that Zakaria was calling me from the courtyard outside. Of course, he didn’t really know my name, so he simply “mzungu”-ed me. Somebody must have told him where I happened to be because he appeared at the door wearing a sleepy face. He always swept me off my feet with his smile. Zakari was just about to start saying “mzungu”, when Mutuku popped up from his seat, towering above the little Zakari, asserting all his authority, and with a terribly stern face, began explaining to him that I am NOT a mzungu (stranger; or white person) but Andy. After his great heroism, Mutuku sauntered over to me and pressed a kiss onto my face, which I reciprocated right away.