Azungu! Azungu!

I've been running a bit while in Malawi this summer. Mostly, I run loops from the guest house in Lilongwe--a few redundant, uninteresting loops on the main roads. On the rare occasion that I'm able to run with a group, 1-2 times per week, we can get a little more adventurous...especially if I run with people who know the areas well. I've been on a few such runs here. It's provided the best opportunity to happen upon village life and day-to-day tasks.

One run took us through a beautiful, open field on a hill, which was timed perfectly to watch the sunset and then finish up before it was too dark. Monday we had an urban adventure that took us through the best shiggy on trail that I've seen. After running through a developing part of the city, we ran through a part of town where small huts or stone houses seemed out of place compared to the rising McMansions. After turning away from the development, toward the older huts and some fields, we found ourselves following someone (who knew the area well) through cane fields and then onto a precarious looking bridge, based with bags of sugar and maize, then topped with stalks from the field. It wove precariously through the dense cane crop, but only knocked a few of us off the bridge and tumbling into the cane stalks. This was also at sunset.

Saturday was a great running day, although it did require me to wake up at 5:30am in order to arrive and get running by 6:30. By no definition am I a morning person, but the run was definitely worth an early rise. We started out at the extravagant house of our host and ran through the school of agriculture, in between fields that were (unusually) plowed with a machine. The rest of the run took us up and around rolling hills, around hand-tilled fields, through tropical forests, disrupting small villages and clearing a path in the bush. So much variety in a 13k run!

In the fields, we scared and perplexed the farmers. One guy I know said that he asked a Malawian friend of his what he would think if a bunch of azungu (white foreigners) ran through his fields. He said if this happened to him, of course it would mean that he was bewitched. Great. That's exactly what I was going for. (sarcasm) Exercise seems to be a foreign concept to the majority of Malawians, although kids and some adults do play soccer and other games. But running for fun, that's just crazy.

On the same run, while running on the single track path in the forest, we encountered a large vertical group of reeds. As we ran past, the reeds tilted sideways and were turned horizontal as they began to levitate--completely unexpected behavior for plantlife! It scared the shit out of us. A (VERY SMALL) Malawian woman, maybe 4 feet 10 inches, was lifting the bundle onto her head for transport. No big deal. It was at least 7feet tall and 2 feet in diameter!

There were four or five villages that we ran through that day. While it only takes a few minutes to pass through a village, I like to think I can get a feel for the personality of a village using a few indicators. The women. Women will either stop and stare, run away, start laughing or yell out "Hello sister!" and wave. Sometimes these things happen in combination. The men. Men tend to completely ignore us and not make eye contact, stare/glare at us, laugh while clearly mocking us, laugh in disbelief or attempt friendly communication.

The children. Kids are the best. I think kids' the reactions to azungu is so telling; maybe equivalent to taking the pulse of a village. It can provide a lot of insight into the resources, confidence, unity and trust that a village may have. If the kids run in fear or stop what they're doing, go stiff and stare, that village may be hurting. They tend to be the ones with huts in disrepair, the people look skinnier and laughter is an infrequent visitor. We've only scared the piss out of children once (see post from Nkhata Bay and Red Cross rescue!). Some kids think we're the funniest thing they've ever seen. They may run after us until they tire out. Some try to race us! My personal favorite is when little kids bounce up and down, running in place, while laughing their little heads off. Others point, laugh, ridicule, mock and have a great time. Usually, they're yelling "azungu, azungu, azungu!" ...over and over again. They never tire of it. If we're lucky, they'll start singing and dancing to their azungu chants. Villages with kids like these are generally better off. They have time and ability find joy in something simple. They aren't distracted with hunger. They aren't taking a break from working in the fields. Usually, we've just interrupted their play. Usually the reaction is somewhere in between these two extremes.