Dignity?

I was spat on today. It does not feel good to be spat on. It is really realy demeaning actually. We were walking back from somewhere and Tim was about 150 feet ahead of me. I could see a guy, teens? 20s? talking to him up ahead. The guy had grabbed Tim's arm.  You could tell just by watching the interaction that the guy was asking for money. Tim shook him off and crossed the street. I followed behind. As I got close to the intersection, I saw the guy walking my way and assumed I would get the same treatment, but instead he didn't say anything. He spat all over me. It got in my hair and on my skin and on my clothes. I didn't do anything. I didn't even say anything. What can you say when one single action takes away something so central to you? I am not sure what I would call it.... human dignity? Self worth? Ego? I just know it is something powerful, something that is both important and central to me as a person. It is hard to blame the guy really. There is no way he saw me as a person, he didn't even really look at me, let alone speak to me, he just saw my whiteness, my perceived wealth, and quite possibly (given it is the week of genocide remembrance and colonialists/the "West" got more than their fair share of the blame) he looked at me and saw remnants of the system that tore this continent, this country, and these people in particular apart. I can rationalize for him though, I can try to put myself in his shoes and accept? or forgive? his actions. Do his actions even call for forgiveness or just forgetfulness? I can put words in his mouth when I don't think he can do the same for me. I think he thought:

"I am just another white person, another person to say no. I might be connected to that last white guy who had just rejected his plea. I have money but am unwilling to share it. I am here in Rwanda to either fix things (which aren't broken, why do these white people insist in "helping"? Why is our country a charity case? Why does their self worth come at the expense our dignity?) or because I have wealth. If I am here to "help," then why don't I help him? He needs it much as the next person, he needs it as much as any project. If I am here because I have wealth, why not share it?"

I don't know how many people he asked. I don't know  how many blacks and whites, and reds, oranges, blues and purples before us said no, before he was so fed up he took it out on me. Clearly, Tim was, as the expression goes, the straw that broke the camels back. I received the spit because I was the next white person to walk by a minute later. I am not sure what I should've done. There were no police in that exact spot, but there was one not too far away. Should I have turned him in? Should I have called out? Should I have given him money, simply because I could? Simply to prove him wrong or to prove that I am different? I have been here long enough to know that I probably could have gotten him into trouble. Is it better to let him have that victory? Did he need that more in that moment than it takes from me? There is very little he can really do to me or take from me that doesn't cost him a lot. The law, as unfair as it may seem, is mostly on my side due to my "wealth" over his. Spitting on me and then disappearing into the crowd is one of the few things he can actually get away with, one of the few things he might control in regards to me, to whites, to all the foreigners in his country, to his wealth versus mine. It upset me a lot; more than it probably should have in reality. When I reflect upon the ways and times Arficans all over the world (especially African Americans and those under colonialist rule) were treated as second class citizens, that they were spat on and worse without the ability to say anything against it, one little instance isn't really bad is it?  I got a very small taste for what it is like to be a minority, to be treated as less than human. So why, if it was so small, does it bother me so much then?