Day Four

I didn’t get a chance to run this weekend even though I wanted to run on Saturday. I did play football (soccer) with the tots so I got some physical activity. I am trying to find Godfrey, my escort, and he is nowhere to be found. Instead, Young Fred (one of our hosts) asks one of the students, Gerald, to run with me. He is going to run in flip flops even though I asked him if he wanted to find some sneakers. Kids here don’t always have the option of having appropriate shoes to wear. In fact, I think many of them would prefer to be barefoot most of the time.

This should be an easy 2 mile run. I didn’t bring my schedule with me and don’t have access to the internet without wanting to kill myself (I am very impatient when it comes to inefficiency and the internet here is very inefficient. In fact, it is downright unreliable and after dealing with it for 2 years, I have decided I will not and will wait until I return to the States before I check email. People know where I am and I put the “I am in Africa” return email on my work account.). I am going by memory, which is horribly unreliable, but some is better than none. I do know the long runs so I won’t screw that up. But I am still guessing as to the distance. It will be nice to return to a marked path at home. And tree-lined streets.

Kids follow me each day as I run through town and off onto one path or another. I know there is a sizable hill on this path, but I assume that I will turn before I hit it. Oh no. And Gerald does not stop talking. I am not a talker, particularly not here. It is a struggle for me to run let alone try to carry on a conversation. And I am trying to listen to my IPod. I don’t have the volume loud enough that I can’t hear him, but I don’t want to talk!

We start to climb this hill. I am struggling and slow down considerably. Gerald starts to walk next to me, but then I think he feels bad and starts to shuffle. I don’t know which is worse. Luckily, the turn around is not too far up the hill.

Once again, when I turn, the stragglers stop following me. I must run on their route home and they run with me and laugh. Then they walk the rest of the way while I turn around.

“Professor, do you have bananas in America?” Gerald asks.

“Yes.”

“Professor, do you have cows in America?”

“Yes.”

“Professor, do you have chickens in America?”

For the love of all things holy, “yes.”

“Professor, do you have goats in America?”

Please shut up, “yes.”

At this point I am ready to turn and say “shut the hell up,” but I can’t get myself to do that. Not only are the questions inane, they are driving me nuts because they are one after the other and I just want to finish my run in peace. I wish I could run without an escort. And what an escort this is. A 5’5”, 14 year-old. What help will he offer? Again, I could protect him.

I think he is taking his role a bit too seriously, also. He is running so close to me our arms touch. I try to run in front and off to the side, hoping he will run behind me, but he just runs to the side and touches again. I don’t know why I don’t have the heart to tell him to move the hell over. I think he is excited to run with the ‘professor.’

Perhaps his talking and arm nudging made me run faster. I felt pretty good after the run and thankful it is over.