To make things hotter.
As if Africa couldn't get any warmer, I found something to turn the heat up a notch: running. After about a week of doing nothing other than some pull-ups or push-ups and various other "ups" I felt that I needed more. With plans to climb Kili and enter the Chicago marathon I decided that it be best if I kept my aerobic capacity up and attempt a run to do so. I quickly found out though that it's easier said than done to run in Africa as after just a mile I was already sucker punched by the intensity of the sun and the dry, humid air. But it felt great to be out running again. And boy did the locals stare. :) It's one thing to see a mzungu walking along the road, but it's an entirely different occasion when that mzungu is running. Also, let me clarify that despite what you would think about Africans and physical activity, especially based on those darn Kenyans winning every single running competition under the sun, exercise is not a major priority in their lives. That being said, someone running for exercise in itself is a rarity in Dar. Add on the fact that a white person in Dar is exercising, well, you get the point.
And as if running in Africa wasn't bad enough, imagine getting lost of your run while in Africa. And me being the stubborn German that I am will not break stride to ask for directions back to where I should be headed, no, I'll just keep on running until I spatially could put things together. Eventually I will get back, but will dehydration or heat stroke get the best of me before I make it there? Of course not. For I am a Clydesdale. A workhorse. A true German. There is no stopping me, not even the African heat. An hour later I arrive, not back home, but at the International School just down the road from me. And what is this that I see going on on the soccer field? No, not soccer as you might reason, but rugby. Yes, rugby. And not Africans playing ruby, but my fellow expats!
Having enough of pushing myself to the extreme, a huge appreciation for the sport, and a desire to actually play one day, I decided to stop on in and have a look. I watched for about 15 minutes on the sideline bleachers recovering from having just finished my run while talking to an Israeli student about the activity on the field in front of me. Apparently it was the Dar es Salaam Rugby League's weakly gathering. This gathering being open to the public. I, being "the public", decided that it was an opportunity too great to pass up. I got enough information from the Israeli boy about the modified rules of the 2-hand touch below the waist (sounds rather kinky, doesn't it?) version of Rugby that they were playing and trotted up to the field. A lanky, scruffy Aussie saw me approaching and yelled out "Beginner", and the activity on the field abruptly halted. Everyone turns to look at me, sees me in my sweat-drenched, grey wife beater and blue running shorts, and proceeds to turn back to look at one another with unsaid thoughts of "You take him on your side. We don't want the noob on our team." With neither side making the initiative, I made the first move. I ran off to one side and the game once again resumed. I was shaky at first, causing a number of turnovers and dropped balls, but quickly caught on. After the Western African sun punched out for the day and without the availability of flood lights to illuminate the playing field our time came to an end. Shane, another short and scrawny, blonde haired Aussie introduced himself to me and told me that I was always welcome to join them in their weekly gatherings. I even got my name on their email list, emails being sent out to the rugby community in Dar with invites to rugby happenings around the city. And as I briefly chatted with a few of the other ruggers on our way off campus I found myself elated after finally tapping into a community here in Dar. I couldn't help but smile as I made my way home in the dark, warm, African night to shower up, lick my wounds, and fall asleep in eager anticipation of the next Wednesday afternoon where once again on that ITS soccer field I will heat things up under a setting, African sun.
More to come. Stay posted.
And as if running in Africa wasn't bad enough, imagine getting lost of your run while in Africa. And me being the stubborn German that I am will not break stride to ask for directions back to where I should be headed, no, I'll just keep on running until I spatially could put things together. Eventually I will get back, but will dehydration or heat stroke get the best of me before I make it there? Of course not. For I am a Clydesdale. A workhorse. A true German. There is no stopping me, not even the African heat. An hour later I arrive, not back home, but at the International School just down the road from me. And what is this that I see going on on the soccer field? No, not soccer as you might reason, but rugby. Yes, rugby. And not Africans playing ruby, but my fellow expats!
Having enough of pushing myself to the extreme, a huge appreciation for the sport, and a desire to actually play one day, I decided to stop on in and have a look. I watched for about 15 minutes on the sideline bleachers recovering from having just finished my run while talking to an Israeli student about the activity on the field in front of me. Apparently it was the Dar es Salaam Rugby League's weakly gathering. This gathering being open to the public. I, being "the public", decided that it was an opportunity too great to pass up. I got enough information from the Israeli boy about the modified rules of the 2-hand touch below the waist (sounds rather kinky, doesn't it?) version of Rugby that they were playing and trotted up to the field. A lanky, scruffy Aussie saw me approaching and yelled out "Beginner", and the activity on the field abruptly halted. Everyone turns to look at me, sees me in my sweat-drenched, grey wife beater and blue running shorts, and proceeds to turn back to look at one another with unsaid thoughts of "You take him on your side. We don't want the noob on our team." With neither side making the initiative, I made the first move. I ran off to one side and the game once again resumed. I was shaky at first, causing a number of turnovers and dropped balls, but quickly caught on. After the Western African sun punched out for the day and without the availability of flood lights to illuminate the playing field our time came to an end. Shane, another short and scrawny, blonde haired Aussie introduced himself to me and told me that I was always welcome to join them in their weekly gatherings. I even got my name on their email list, emails being sent out to the rugby community in Dar with invites to rugby happenings around the city. And as I briefly chatted with a few of the other ruggers on our way off campus I found myself elated after finally tapping into a community here in Dar. I couldn't help but smile as I made my way home in the dark, warm, African night to shower up, lick my wounds, and fall asleep in eager anticipation of the next Wednesday afternoon where once again on that ITS soccer field I will heat things up under a setting, African sun.
More to come. Stay posted.
posted by The Great Gatsby at 9:48:00 PM
1 Comments:
'at-a-boy!
Praise God!
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