Taking a walk at SMMUCo

At the entrance of Stefano Moshi Memorial University College (SMMUCo, pronounced “SeeMOOco”), a large yellow gate stands between the campus and the road. After I pass through the gate and greet John, the security guard, I can either go left—an uphill climb—or go right, downhill. Either way, the road is a red dust that coats the corn stalks and banana leaves, and I think to myself that corn stalks and banana leaves deserve to be clean and green. If I had a water hose, I would spray them to their proper green. As buses rush by, pedestrians fling themselves against the side of the road, billows of red dust swirl and settle, and then I know that I have just become a banana leaf.
Since I am the only Caucasian on the road, passersby often stare without any attempt at subtlety. School children call out, “Good morning, Madam!” or “Good evening, Madam!” Three little ones tiptoe beside me for a good bit of the way, staring and listening in eerie silence for any behavior from me that might offer insight into the species of English-speaking madams. Later, teenagers, who walk in swarms, rush across the road to greet me. One gives me a high-five and throws her head back, laughing hysterically.
As for the older, more sedate folk, I greet them and they return my greeting with something I’ve never heard of, so I suspect our conversations could be translated like this:
Jeanne: Hello, Madam! (“Hujambo, Mama!”)
Other person: Hello! It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?
Jeanne: Thank you. Welcome! Teacher! SMMUCo!
By the end of the walk, I am swirling with call-and-nonsensical-responses. When a VW bus stuffed with passengers roars by, one man thrusts his torso out the window and hollers, “Sorry, Madam! We have no more room for you!”
I throw my hands up in the air and yell in my best Swahili, “No!” After the red dust settles once again, I am still laughing hysterically.