Running is What?

Zoe and I went for a run at dusk today. It was beautiful; let’s start with that.  Coffee, tea, and banana farms.  Mixed aromas of suppers cooking and garbage burning.  So many more pedestrians than vehicles.  It is only a few blocks to the edge of town and the end of pavement.  Rural life abruptly begins.  So much happening in the farms and homes and roadside stands, and each day we understand more of the goings-on.  The road varies in width, texture, and sideways slope.  Normally we run facing traffic, so that means on the right in this former British colony.  But drivers choose whichever part of the road is the smoothest.  So we ran wherever it was most level.

The stares.  White people in shorts running in a place with neither white people nor runners.  (Kenya’s famed runners come from the Rift Valley to the west.)  I think it was the combination of being so aberrant, doing something so relatively purposeless, and being wildly under-dressed by Kenyan standards (many in hats in this cool season) that made me more self-conscious than at any previous time here.  On the run back, we started greeting people with “hi,” “hallo,” “jambo,”, or a wave.  That helped.  I want to say it was perhaps disarming, but that word could imply that the encounters were conflictual, and I’m not sure they were at all.  You often don’t know the intent or spirit of a brief encounter.  Based on the overarching warmth of so many people we meet, it is much nicer to believe that the stares and calls were not mean-spirited at all.

Walking to and through the hospital is the opposite.  I bought a white lab coat to wear like all the other doctors here.  I feel part of the scene.  I walk on the left.  I shake everyone’s hand in the warm, slightly prolonged way here.  I joke around.  I seek out the gang of kids who are in rehab for burns and other injuries, take photos with them, touch their heads and crowd together with them to look at the iPhone in a way you could never do with strangers in America.  I belong.

Roger

My dad described our run very eloquently but I wanted to contribute so here is my more blunt version. In the past 2 weeks we have been stared at a lot, no matter the circumstance. But add to our whiteness, the strange clothes (I have been wearing my dad’s running shorts because they are a more appropriate length) and the absurd activity we were partaking in, my dad and I were joking that we were going to make headlines! Conversations literally stopped so the participants could stare at us without distraction. And let’s be clear, these were not glances.  They were full blown stares that required head turning. Sometimes I would stare back, uncertain of what else to do and we would maintain eye contact for probably only 3 or 4 seconds but it felt like longer. I was afraid to do anything out of the norm, like scratch my arm, cause I felt like at least 10 people would notice.  Just to be clear though, I completely agree with my dad that there was absolutely no hostility, only curiosity. As always, enjoying the adventures!!

Zoe