Saturday, February 28, 2009
Dennis
My mother expressed a fear that I would bring back a child at the end of my time in Africa. Well, this may be that child.
Running on Rusinga
Here are a few of the obstacles that make running on this island interesting: The deep ruts in the dirt road caused by rain runoff. The rocks of all sizes that are left after the soil erodes. There's only one road. Goats. Mobs of curious children on their way to school. Stomach bugs. The sun that is remarkably powerful within minutes after coming over the mountain. Local custom which requires greeting everyone with at least a "Hello. How are you? Can you please give me details about every member of your family?" Herds of cows and their globs of poo.
Ohhhh, Kigali, with your paved streets and readily available drinking water, how I miss our mornings together!
I have found a couple running companions which make the conditions more enjoyable. Peter is about 22 years old and started running with me for two reasons: he enjoys the activity and he wants to protect me from the previously mentioned curious children. Our first run together he shows up in sandals that cost less than $2. He started the jog with about 50 cents left and ended with no more than 25. We were on the dirt road for the first half and then started up a rocky trail at which point the strap on his right flip-flop broke, thus the drop in remaining value. He just kept on going. The other young man joined us today and reminds me of Preston. At the end of a brutal 7 mile run, which was not even close to challenging to him, he grabbed a hoe and started uprooting a tree. He ran in boots without laces.
How does this affect the current predictions for the race on May 24th? According to the most recent poll by Alabaster, Upper, and Thigh, it's still to close to call. Preston still faces temperatures in the "Stupidly Cold," to, "Are-You-Freaking-Kidding-Me? Cold" range. Steve has trouble finding time to bathe let alone train. Trevor has seen setbacks due to his stomach deciding to go into convulsions every other week. With two and a half months till the big day it's anyone's race.
Ohhhh, Kigali, with your paved streets and readily available drinking water, how I miss our mornings together!
I have found a couple running companions which make the conditions more enjoyable. Peter is about 22 years old and started running with me for two reasons: he enjoys the activity and he wants to protect me from the previously mentioned curious children. Our first run together he shows up in sandals that cost less than $2. He started the jog with about 50 cents left and ended with no more than 25. We were on the dirt road for the first half and then started up a rocky trail at which point the strap on his right flip-flop broke, thus the drop in remaining value. He just kept on going. The other young man joined us today and reminds me of Preston. At the end of a brutal 7 mile run, which was not even close to challenging to him, he grabbed a hoe and started uprooting a tree. He ran in boots without laces.
How does this affect the current predictions for the race on May 24th? According to the most recent poll by Alabaster, Upper, and Thigh, it's still to close to call. Preston still faces temperatures in the "Stupidly Cold," to, "Are-You-Freaking-Kidding-Me? Cold" range. Steve has trouble finding time to bathe let alone train. Trevor has seen setbacks due to his stomach deciding to go into convulsions every other week. With two and a half months till the big day it's anyone's race.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Mathematics mistakenly holds the title of "the universal language." Yes, numbers have no prejudices and 2+2=4 everywhere, but anyone who has struggled in a calculus course knows that math can be remarkably complicated and confusing.
Laughter, on the other hand, needs no foundation or prior understanding. Genuine, guttural laughter crosses all lines of language, age, ethnicity, and belief. When on the outskirts of a conversation with people speaking an unknown tongue, if those involved suddenly rear back their heads and slap their knees in a fit of uncontrollable amusement it is near impossible not to join them.
Anguish can also overcome those same barriers.
A young man was recently killed in the shallows of Lake Victoria less than a kilometer from where I work. While bathing he was attacked and dismembered by an adult hippo with a calf at her side. The day after the tragedy, I was walking with Alphonce to offer condolences and assistance to the family when we came upon a group of fishermen pulling their nets onto the beach. The intended catch, the missing remains of the young man, were painfully absent.
When the empty nets had been brought ashore, an old woman stepped from the crowd and stood ankle deep in the small waves. She faced the water and began shouting a plea to the boy's spirit to return the body and for the lake to ease its journey. She spoke entirely in Luo but her pain and beseechment dug into my chest, burrowed into my spine. Decades from now, whatever Luo I learn will be forgotten but the image of that woman against the vast waters, her wrinkled hands shaking as she pounded her walking stick into the sand, and the sound of her commanding voice will still remain.
Laughter, on the other hand, needs no foundation or prior understanding. Genuine, guttural laughter crosses all lines of language, age, ethnicity, and belief. When on the outskirts of a conversation with people speaking an unknown tongue, if those involved suddenly rear back their heads and slap their knees in a fit of uncontrollable amusement it is near impossible not to join them.
Anguish can also overcome those same barriers.
A young man was recently killed in the shallows of Lake Victoria less than a kilometer from where I work. While bathing he was attacked and dismembered by an adult hippo with a calf at her side. The day after the tragedy, I was walking with Alphonce to offer condolences and assistance to the family when we came upon a group of fishermen pulling their nets onto the beach. The intended catch, the missing remains of the young man, were painfully absent.
When the empty nets had been brought ashore, an old woman stepped from the crowd and stood ankle deep in the small waves. She faced the water and began shouting a plea to the boy's spirit to return the body and for the lake to ease its journey. She spoke entirely in Luo but her pain and beseechment dug into my chest, burrowed into my spine. Decades from now, whatever Luo I learn will be forgotten but the image of that woman against the vast waters, her wrinkled hands shaking as she pounded her walking stick into the sand, and the sound of her commanding voice will still remain.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Shamba
At around 6:15, the sun rises directly over the tallest of five peaks, the waters of Lake Victoria reflecting a vibrant blue to the North and South. Roosters start greeting the day at around 3am and by 5, goats, cows, song birds and babies have all joined to make a strangely harmonious chorus. By 7, the residents of Rusinga Island are busy settling into the rhythm of the day as their heavy hoes break the earth.
This shamba, or home, has 40-50 bananas trees lining one side of the plot while young mango and papaya sprout along the other. Aloe Vera grow in the empty spaces and soon corn will cover whatever open ground is left. One massive tree, thick and gnarled, guards the main entrance.
Two dogs, both rescued strays, the older covered in scars, the younger, thin and a bit aggresive, weave through the chickens pecking the dust to find breakfast. Cats often lay in the walkways, immobile and indifferent. A lone donkey munches on the grass and occasionally lifts its sad head.
Two main structures rest on Alphonce's shamba, his compound. Alphonce is the Kenyan director of Kageno, where I am working. The larger of the two consists of four bedrooms made from concrete and a steel roof. Two small beds and a tiny table inhabit my room as well as a number of geckos and a good deal of spiders. At one end of the house hangs a tarp that provides privacy for the shower - a large bucket and old plastic food container. The smaller building is a sitting area with a high thatched roof where Alphonce and guests eat dinner. An outside cooking area stands to the north and 10-15 meters from the sitting area is the pit latrine.
Extending from the roof of the main house is a pipe that runs from the gutters into a 5,000 liter basin. Rain collects here and provides potable water for showering and drinking. A massive basket, 5 feet tall and 3 feet wide, rests on a wooden platform and awaits the harvest.
Once the sun sets, the voices of fisherman preparing for a night's work drift up from the beach and the words of Linford Detweiler seem fitting:
I'm thinking of a place now
Where I used to have to tell myself
Aloud,
Those are not clouds,
They're stars.
While in Kenya, this place is my home. I am so very, very fortunate.
This shamba, or home, has 40-50 bananas trees lining one side of the plot while young mango and papaya sprout along the other. Aloe Vera grow in the empty spaces and soon corn will cover whatever open ground is left. One massive tree, thick and gnarled, guards the main entrance.
Two dogs, both rescued strays, the older covered in scars, the younger, thin and a bit aggresive, weave through the chickens pecking the dust to find breakfast. Cats often lay in the walkways, immobile and indifferent. A lone donkey munches on the grass and occasionally lifts its sad head.
Two main structures rest on Alphonce's shamba, his compound. Alphonce is the Kenyan director of Kageno, where I am working. The larger of the two consists of four bedrooms made from concrete and a steel roof. Two small beds and a tiny table inhabit my room as well as a number of geckos and a good deal of spiders. At one end of the house hangs a tarp that provides privacy for the shower - a large bucket and old plastic food container. The smaller building is a sitting area with a high thatched roof where Alphonce and guests eat dinner. An outside cooking area stands to the north and 10-15 meters from the sitting area is the pit latrine.
Extending from the roof of the main house is a pipe that runs from the gutters into a 5,000 liter basin. Rain collects here and provides potable water for showering and drinking. A massive basket, 5 feet tall and 3 feet wide, rests on a wooden platform and awaits the harvest.
Once the sun sets, the voices of fisherman preparing for a night's work drift up from the beach and the words of Linford Detweiler seem fitting:
I'm thinking of a place now
Where I used to have to tell myself
Aloud,
Those are not clouds,
They're stars.
While in Kenya, this place is my home. I am so very, very fortunate.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Kenya
I've been in Kenya for just over three days and there are already so many stories. One of the best moments happened this afternoon when James, a boy of about 11, showed me how to make a soccer ball out of plastic bags and old fishing line. Once finished, which from beginning to end took about ten minutes, we played a game of keep-away with a bunch of other kids from the village. The children here are quickly replacing their shy giggles with boisterous questions and it is wonderful. (Their increasing courage may be in part due to my new fedora made from coconut bark, hand crafted by one of the women on the island. It does looks a bit ridiculous but it makes them laugh and it's therefore hard to leave at home.)
Monday, February 2, 2009
The gauntlet has been thrown...
In May of this year, the three Smith boys will run a race together; either the Pittsburgh Half Marathon on the 3rd or the Ogden 20K Classic on the 24th. Like most things that happen in a family of boys, this race will be a competition and the winner will hold bragging rights for decades. Here’s an unbiased and honest breakdown of the contenders.
Stephen Stewart Smith – 5’10”, 160 lbs, 29 years old.
Strengths: Steve’s the oldest and therefore used to being first. He also has as obstinate drive to not let either of his younger brothers beat him at anything. As a third grade teacher, he used to sustaining an elevated heart rate over long periods of time. Perhaps his greatest strength lies in his fiancé and coach Nicole. She’s run countless races and knows a great deal about training. Michael Phelps asked her to help him prepare for 2012. Steve recently gained an unexpected boost - the endorphins that he got as a result of the Steelers’ Superbowl win will still be raging through his body in 3 and a half months.
Weaknesses: As stated above, he’s an elementary teacher that spends 10 hours a day in the classroom which doesn’t leave much time or energy for training. Furthermore, he’s planning a spring wedding which consumes whatever moments he’s not in front of a couple dozen eight year olds. Lastly, he’s quickly becoming an old fart.
Preston Taylor Smith – 5’11”, 175 (shaved) 190 (with a few days of stubble), 23.
Strengths: He’s a mutant. Preston possesses a gene unknown to the other Smith boys. After lounging on a coach for three months he can effortlessly trot along at a sub five minute mile pace. He started running track his junior year of high school and quickly earned the nickname, “Prefontaine.” Even with this innate physical advantage, Preston’s greatest asset comes from a desire for revenge. Winning this will give him a chance to repay years of torment from his older brothers. The bragging rights might be enough motivation for him to exert a super human effort.
Weaknesses: He’s in Iowa. It’s cold in Iowa. Running a few miles in 14 layers of clothes and boots heavy enough to anchor a small house in a tornado is rather challenging. Preston knows he's a strong runner and so therefore might not log a whole lotta miles before May. He's working in construction, as he has been for the last 6 months, and is slowly but surely getting a bit thick around the middle.
Trevor Heyward Smith – A tall and lean 6’4”, 185 pounds. He has the perfect blend of youth and maturity at the crisp age of 26.
Strengths: Trevor’s already averaging 15-20 miles of running per week in sunny Africa. Those runs take place in the hilly Kigali that sits at over 5,000 feet in elevation. His regiment will only increase and by the time the race rolls around he may be bagging 20k’s on easy days.
Weaknesses: Trevor has more screws and pins in his knees than in most kitchen appliances. It’s anyone’s guess as to when some of this hardware might shoot out and turn into shrapnel. Before either race, Trevor will have recently returned from time abroad and an long international flight. Jet lag could steer him off course to find a bench or just a grassy patch for a quick nap.
No matter who wins, it will be a great time. If anyone ends up bleeding let's just hope it adds humor to the memory.
Please make all wagers through “Papa Smurf Booking Agency” at 1-800-745-8738. (That’s 1-800-PIK-TREV)
Stephen Stewart Smith – 5’10”, 160 lbs, 29 years old.
Strengths: Steve’s the oldest and therefore used to being first. He also has as obstinate drive to not let either of his younger brothers beat him at anything. As a third grade teacher, he used to sustaining an elevated heart rate over long periods of time. Perhaps his greatest strength lies in his fiancé and coach Nicole. She’s run countless races and knows a great deal about training. Michael Phelps asked her to help him prepare for 2012. Steve recently gained an unexpected boost - the endorphins that he got as a result of the Steelers’ Superbowl win will still be raging through his body in 3 and a half months.
Weaknesses: As stated above, he’s an elementary teacher that spends 10 hours a day in the classroom which doesn’t leave much time or energy for training. Furthermore, he’s planning a spring wedding which consumes whatever moments he’s not in front of a couple dozen eight year olds. Lastly, he’s quickly becoming an old fart.
Preston Taylor Smith – 5’11”, 175 (shaved) 190 (with a few days of stubble), 23.
Strengths: He’s a mutant. Preston possesses a gene unknown to the other Smith boys. After lounging on a coach for three months he can effortlessly trot along at a sub five minute mile pace. He started running track his junior year of high school and quickly earned the nickname, “Prefontaine.” Even with this innate physical advantage, Preston’s greatest asset comes from a desire for revenge. Winning this will give him a chance to repay years of torment from his older brothers. The bragging rights might be enough motivation for him to exert a super human effort.
Weaknesses: He’s in Iowa. It’s cold in Iowa. Running a few miles in 14 layers of clothes and boots heavy enough to anchor a small house in a tornado is rather challenging. Preston knows he's a strong runner and so therefore might not log a whole lotta miles before May. He's working in construction, as he has been for the last 6 months, and is slowly but surely getting a bit thick around the middle.
Trevor Heyward Smith – A tall and lean 6’4”, 185 pounds. He has the perfect blend of youth and maturity at the crisp age of 26.
Strengths: Trevor’s already averaging 15-20 miles of running per week in sunny Africa. Those runs take place in the hilly Kigali that sits at over 5,000 feet in elevation. His regiment will only increase and by the time the race rolls around he may be bagging 20k’s on easy days.
Weaknesses: Trevor has more screws and pins in his knees than in most kitchen appliances. It’s anyone’s guess as to when some of this hardware might shoot out and turn into shrapnel. Before either race, Trevor will have recently returned from time abroad and an long international flight. Jet lag could steer him off course to find a bench or just a grassy patch for a quick nap.
No matter who wins, it will be a great time. If anyone ends up bleeding let's just hope it adds humor to the memory.
Please make all wagers through “Papa Smurf Booking Agency” at 1-800-745-8738. (That’s 1-800-PIK-TREV)
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