Kenyans mustn’t assume that every Asian they see is another Jackie Chan

Although Kenyans have been nothing less than hospitable to me, nothing tires me more about this country than the frequent calls I hear on the street. “Ching-choong,” they say. “Hey, Jackie Chan!” they scream.

The other day, several children asked me to teach them kung-fu. I understand that they think I am Chinese, but actually I am Korean-American. My name is Andrew, which I might point out sounds nothing like “Ching-Choong”. I am also prepared to make a sworn oath that I have never learned kung-fu.

These notions about East Asians are all very funny in an annoying sort of way, but they’re also a serious matter. Kenya’s ties to East Asia are becoming stronger. Chinese companies are paving a new Thika Road.

Products from Korean mega-companies (LG and Samsung) have flooded the Kenyan market. If Kenyans want to do business and profit from relationships with East Asians, they might well start by not insulting them with ignorance and stereotypes that hardly reflect reality.

For instance, children have said to me: “Hey, Chinese! Ching-chang-chong-choong!” I do not know if they are attempting to communicate, but their words are about as ridiculous as if I were to approach you and say: “Hey, Kenyan! Habaki yaki maka waka!”

The point is, these children weren’t born with these attitudes. Their parents could say to them that this is not the way to treat another human being. But I’ve heard ignorance from bus drivers, street hawkers, newspapermen and government officials too.

Although many of these people probably receive their notions of East Asians from cheap martial arts movies, the reality of East Asian life is, of course, much different.

This would be equivalent of an American watching nature programmes about Kenya on TV and assuming all Kenyans live like the Maasai and regularly hunts lion with spears.

In fact, I have heard from Kenyans living in America that some Americans ask whether Kenyans have computers or if they learned to wear western clothes in America, the presumption being that all Kenyans wear Maasai robes and carry spears.

Any Kenyan knows that these questions are born of ignorance. At best, they reveal acute naivety and, at worst, they make Americans look very, very bad.

That the ignorance goes both ways, however, is no excuse for it. Ignorance can be rude in any place. We should know that television programmes are not accurate reflections of reality.

The East Asians residing in Kenya certainly do not resemble the sword-wielding warriors who prance around on TV screens. In Kenya, how many times have you seen an East Asian carrying a sword or chopping four blocks of wood in half?

There’s also the issue of name-calling. Being called “Ching-Choong” deprives me of my identity and dignity. It lumps me together with a billion other faceless East Asians who all, in the popular mind at least, gallivant around the countryside screaming words that only begin with the letter “C” and hack each other to death with swords, karate chops and bone-crushing flying kicks.

While it’s funny to imagine a country where things like this happen, the name-calling is not amusing.

So, when you see me or another East Asian on the street, please do not shout “Ching-Choong”. Please, do not assume I know kung-fu. Please, do not assume that I am Chinese.

But I don’t mean to be too negative. If anything, we can all learn a little more about each other if we ask first rather than assume first.

We might also listen and learn from others before asking questions that would otherwise reveal our ignorance.

I hope that when I come back to Kenya, these sorts of attitudes about East Asians will have changed.