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A Memorable 18 hrs of Running
Last Friday evening, I left for a run on my usual route. Within the first half mile I had already been crowed, mowed and baud at. I also had caught the attention of half a dozen children who all screamed a variation of "Hello/how are you/see you, Mazungu". All standard stuff, when all of a sudden something very different occurred. As the base of the trap music playing in my headphones dropped, a bearded, medium sized monkey popped out of the brush and began running on all fours down the road. Keys and Krates, "Keep it 100" was the backdrop to this OG's* parade. I froze up and stared at the furry creature in confusion. I imagined a Curious George type of zookeeper to jump out of the brush a few seconds later in pursuit of the animal. However, I reminded myself that I'm in East Africa, and that this was most likely (99% positive) a wild monkey. After the little guy had jumped back into the brush, I became surprised at how shocked I was to see a free monkey. This is the way it ought to be anyhow--monkeys enjoying the "Pearl of Africa" in harmony with humans, not caged up for display in some crowded zoo. Locals on both sides of the road noticed my shocked expression, and began to laugh hysterically. Touché. It was a gentle reminder that I am still very much a foreigner in this part of the world. A mile and a half later, the excitement continued. As I began to ascend the side of a mountain, I saw a shadow in the corner of my eye closing in on me. I gave a wave to encourage the shadow to catch up and run with me. Quickly, I noticed that the runner was closing in very quickly. He screamed "Run, muzungu, run!".. I had a challenger. Ironically, the lyrics playing into my headphones were "I want to dance, I want to dance, dance, dance with you". I thought "Let's dance, bro." As he closed the gap, I began to accelerate to match his pace. We sprinted side by side, hopping over ruts and dodging school children. Unsure if I could hold his pace for much longer, I checked his feet to see if he was wearing shoes. Many of the people who have run alongside Jordan and I have either been bare foot or in sandals. And if this homie was sprinting up this broken glass and gravel covered climb barefoot, then he deserved the title of Honey Badger (reference YouTube). Thankfully for my ego, the challenger was wearing sneakers. After matching each other for roughly one hundred meters, my home-slice verred to the side, pulled a U-ie and jogged down the descent. I slowed to a stop, paused my music, put my hands on my knees and took a moment to catch my breath. Then I finished the climb. After reaching the top, I began my descent towards home. While passing the market place at the bottom of the climb I heard someone over the music in my headphones yelling "aye, aye". I looked in the direction of the sound. It was the sprinter. He waved and pointed, and said "That's my bro!" I smiled in his direction and gave him a thumbs up. On the way back, I past the area where I saw the OG monkey. In front of the wooded area where the monkey had leaped from, a young women was now taking a picture of who I presumed to be her children and husband. Once she saw me, she giggled and bolted up the road with her camera. She opened up a sizable gap. I put in a dig and sprinted up to her, and when I made the bridge, I looked over and smiled. She broke out into a hysterical laughter and veered to the side before running back to her family. That moment reminded me of a time when I was younger and would chase my mom in the park. When I would catch her, she would scream and laugh, and then give me a big hug. "Hey Mama" by Kanye began playing shortly after this thought. As I approached home, I was able to capture the setting sun (photo attached). When I got back, I stuck my head into the house, and called out for Calebu, who had wanted to run earlier with me. From the threshold, I could see him totally zoned into the TV watching "Despicable Me 2". I can't blame him, and I didn't want to interrupt, so I let him be. The next morning, Calebu sat down next to me on the couch. I put down the book I was reading and we started talking about random stuff, when he broke off on a tangent and exclaimed that "We didn't run yesterday." This 4 year olds face was distraught when he said those words. I explained to him that I had called for him yesterday but he didn't hear me, and he replied, "We run today?" I responded, "How about right now?" He lit up and jumped off of the couch. We went outside, slid our sandals on and ran towards the road. We passed Ashar and Blessy, and I asked them if they wanted to join. Without a word in response, they began running for the road. The 4 of us, all still in our PJs, ran up the mountain side. We reached the top of the road and these kiddos dive bombed back down. Their short legs pivoting off the ground at absurd rates, leaving me in the dust. We reached the house, and I asked Calebu if he wanted to go again and he gave me a huge smile of contentment, opened his eyes wide and swayed his head side to side in exhaustion. Ashar and Blessy had other ideas, and sprinted up the climb for another lap around the neighborhood. These are the sorts of moments have made my experience in Uganda what it's been--memorable. *= acronym for original gangster -Seb
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What are you running from?
A white dude runs down a dirt road in rural Uganda. What sort of reactions would you expect? Horror, laughter?
If you guessed either, you would be correct.
On most days Jordan and I run up and down the undulating terrain surrounding our neighborhood. On every run, we get almost exactly the same reactions. Some kid’s will run to the edge of the road and scream “Hello, muzungu (white person/foreigner)!” or “See You!”. Sometimes the kiddos become so excited that they run next to us, and their little legs will sprint until they’re exhausted.
A handful of mothers might cackle from their gardens. Boda boda drivers will slow down and honk.
I think that this “Muzungu” complex is similar to the snowflake complex; it sounds a lot cooler in theory than it is in reality. How cool can our melanin-deficient skin really be? Well, cool enough for a women in a hijab to run along side us, enough for entire youth football teams to chase after us, and enough to take most people's attention away from what they’re doing for a few seconds. Other people just glare, some in bewilderment and others in horror. I’ll wave and smile, but more often I just throw up the peace sign, and keep looking forward in exhaustion. This experience is kind of cool, but mostly weird. I would think that the community of Kitemu would have gotten used to our presence by now, but these reactions remain consistent. Even though Uganda has become very normal to me, it’s going to be a while before I’m (or any other muzungu) normal for Uganda.
-Seba
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To most, this looks like a bathroom. To us, this was a SANCTUARY!!
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