Young White Female in Rural Black South Africa

I cannot count how many times I have been proposed to while living in South Africa. Many men will start a conversation by telling me their name and then asking where I’m from and some will ask my name. Some will also ask what I’m doing here, and where I’m from. Then, the next 2 questions are almost always:
1. Will you marry me?
2. Can I have your phone number?

I’m actually quite rude to most men when I am alone for this reason alone. It’s exhausting. I’ve come up with my own ways of saying no, as have all the other female PCVs (single or married) serving in South Africa. When I’m outside of the village, I almost always claim to be married and don’t have a cell phone. If he asks where my ring is, I claim I was mugged or afraid of being mugged (depending on where I am and where I’m headed). If he offers to buy me a cell phone, I say I don’t want one. That usually ends the conversation. If he insists on continuing, it usually consists of heavily questioning my singleness and then when he is sure I really am married, my faithfulness to my husband. The little lies usually work better for me when dealing with strangers in town and make me feel safer. In and around my village, I am a bit more honest and the men are much easier to convince I’m not available. They’ve seen me around and have heard about what I’m doing and where I’ve from. I’ve used lines like, “My cell phone is for official Peace Corps business only, sorry.” Or “I don’t give out my number to anyone I haven’t talked to at least 5 times.” And “I don’t want to be married yet. I’ll get married when I go home. I wouldn’t be here right now if I had gotten married. I’d be at home in America with my husband.” Or “Peace Corps won’t let us get married. It’s a rule.” Or “My labola (dowry) is too high.” To the all-to-common, “Can I come visit you?” comment, I have leaned the best way to respond is accept with an ok and ignore if they request where and when. I have yet to actually receive a visitor. I can usually deflect the annoying requests with minimal effort, but it truly is annoying.

Today, I ran into a slightly different situation of the same sort. It is the typical way a conversation beings, progresses, and ends with most men who try to talk to me when I’m out and about. I was walking to school alone and a man passed me on his bike. He quickly stopped and here’s what happened.

Man: Dumela ma. (Hello ma’am)
Me: Ahe. (Hello)
Man: Where are you going?
Me: To the school.
Man: What do you do there?
Me: I teach computer classes.
Man: Will you type a letter for me?
Me: No.
Man: Don’t they have typing machines there?
Me: Yes, they have computers, but I don’t type letters.
Man: What do I do if I want to type a letter?
Me: You can go speak with the principal. He can set something up for you.
Man: If I go talk to the principal, he will charge me a fee for the service.
Me: Yes.
Man: How much?
Me: I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the principal yourself. I do not type letters for people.
Man: When can I meet you?
Me: What?
Man: I want to talk with you?
Me: Ok. What do you want to talk with me about?
Man: About how I feel.
Me: Well, ok, how do you feel?
Man: I feel fat (gesturing with hands by his groin) when I look at you. I want to have an affair with you.
Me: No. (as I turned and walked away)