Only a crazy mzungu would do leg exercises on tiptoe during rounds. But if I didn't, my calves would cramp unmercifully after working all day on cement and packed-earth floors.
Only a crazy mzungu would jog (very intermittently) down the road at 7 AM. Otherwise, I'd be late for chapel; but bemused Kenyans don't worry a whole lot about "late."
Only a crazy mzungu would eat ugali with a fork instead of her fingers, but my hosts thoughtfully set out utensils for me.
Only a crazy mzungu would drink "strong tea" (no milk, no sugar) and consider it delicious, although Kenyans make some of the world's best tea. Their "chai" is basically hot sugared milk.
Only a crazy mzungu would prefer drip-grind coffee to instant Nescafe/Africafe. Kenyans also make some of the world's best coffee, but it is considered an export item.
Only a crazy mzungu would still be struggling with the language after four months. My Luo and Luhya neighbors understand one another, as well as me. They speak four languages, including Kiswahili, to my one-and-a-fraction.
I am grateful for their tolerance. I am even more grateful we can laugh together. In every language.