I want to dedicate an entry to my emerging running group. Today, the first thing the kids asked me when I walked into my village was whether we were running. I told them maybe because I was a bit tired from walking the 5k up from the tarmac. When I got to my house, I sat there deciding. I knew I'd feel more energetic and happier if I just went for a 20-30 minute run even. Plus, the kids really wanted to. Their enthusiasm is going to keep me in shape! As I walked down my usual path to the main road, my apongo appeared; a four year old girl named Macy or Mercy. Honestly, with the pronunciation of words here, sometimes I can't figure names out. She popped out of the neighbors yard, and I grabbed her and threw her up in the air. Then I asked her the few simple questions I can say in Chichewa and if she wanted to run. She said yes, so we walked hand in hand down to the road. I started out very easy. It must have been a funny sight: a five and a half foot tall, white girl wearing Nike running shoes, half tights with shorts over them, and a sky blue dri-fit running shirt jogging along next to a two foot tall, African child with no shoes and wearing a pale yellow and green chitenge dress with the sleeve falling off her shoulder. As we climbed the immediate hill that goes around the village, I heard my name behind us. I peeked behind me and saw about ten kids desperately sprinting towards us trying to catch up. They had obviously dropped everything they had previously been doing. Girls had zitenge wrapped around their shoulders, around their waists, and flying in the wind behind them like kites. None of them had shoes on. We continued jogging around the village, collecting children along the way. Some would join us for a few minutes then stop, others kept up for the whole run. We ran our usual route, and as we passed all the households along the road, amayi and abambo looked up, threw up their hands and smiled, and called "EMMMMA," dragging out the mmm. Teenagers greeted me, laughed at me, or stared. Kids surged out of their houses just to stand on the side of the road and yell, "Emma! Bo! Bo!" and hold up a thumbs up as we ran by.
Because I've continued to run decently often in my village, most people know me and my hobby. There's not as much staring in disbelief or confusion anymore and definitely not as many kids yelling "AZUNGU!!!!!" Instead, most villagers just wave and yell a simple greeting. They laugh at the parade of children I've acquired. It really does feel like a parade at times. People stand along the road, pausing their work, just to watch us run by. Last time, I saw a guy taking a picture of us on his phone (not conspicuously I might add). Today, a pack of pre-teen looking girls came rushing out of a field to run with us for a second and two of them were running alongside me with big knives in their hands! I'm not sure what work they were doing in the field, but I was a bit shocked at their lack of knowledge of the basic saying: Don't run with a knife in your hand! On the way back, some of these same girls stood in the middle of the road and threw out their hands at the last minute as I passed by causing me to give them some sloppy high-five, handshake things. The group exploded in giggles. I legitimately felt like an Olympian or a superhero.
Even though I thought greeting everyone was repetitive and annoying at first, I've come to appreciate it. It's entertaining. Actually, it reminds me of hurdling. When I was doing hurdle workouts in college, I would constantly be concentrating on the next barrier to take my mind off of the pain of the in-between. When I'm running through the village, I am constantly searching for people sitting on their porches, working in their fields, or even just walking down the road. That practice, combined with the excitement and the energy of the kids, makes running here more enjoyable (albeit more draining sometimes too). I wonder how I'll adjust when I'm back in America and snooty runners pass me without even looking at me. Oh well, I've got two more years of this, so there's no point of even worrying about that yet.
When we finished the run, we went to what is becoming our "stretching spot," aka the side yard of an amayi's house. The kids are getting so much better at making a circle and spreading out. I stand in the middle and show them a few basic stretches, throwing out the few related Chichewa words that I know, like 'knee,' 'touch,' or 'like this.' It feels like running camp (shoutout to SMRC people)! Today, some amayis were sitting outside the house, so they were helping to direct the kids based on what I was demonstrating. I'm thinking I can use this time to emphasize basic concepts like 'left' and 'right' or to reiterate how to count to ten, especially considering a lot of the kids who run with me either do not regularly attend school or they are not old enough yet to go. Because if nothing else, Peace Corps definitely teaches you that almost anything can become a "teaching moment."
Oh, and Stampede is the name I've given our group because that's what it sounds like when we're running through the village! 😉
Xo
