Now I’ve never considered myself sporty, and although I used
to run in the UK (sometimes), it’s not been something I’ve ever got round to
here, even though I had always sort of thought it could be nice to!
I thought I had some excellent excuses: a lack of sportswear,
it’s far too hot, and I know I’d end
up being followed round the village by most of the children here. Everybody
here loves sport and they are very curious about my lack of sporty action; I
was explaining my reasons to a friend in the village last weekend and I loved
his response to my final excuse, ‘But how
wonderful that would be!’ He kind of had a point there when I actually
thought about it!
My TTC were organising a special commemorative cross-country
run, although the students actually run every Saturday morning anyway! Tutors
were being allocated to each class of 60-70 students and attention turned to
me. Now, I’d say that I already work a significant number of hours at my TTC
during the week, plus after class clubs and weekend visits when I am here in
the village. I’d also say that 5.30am on a Saturday morning is not really what
I’d consider to be within reasonable working hours, so I felt pretty justified mumbling
something about having already made plans!
What I didn’t expect the next morning was to wake to what
sounded like a carnival procession passing through the village. Each class had
left the TTC at intervals of about 5 minutes and they made their way towards
the village centre and out towards the hills, passing the end of my road in very
high spirits!
The rhythm and pulse of their running and chanting was
infectious and immediately filled my head and heart! Having quickly wrapped
myself in a kitenge and slipped on my flip-flops, I found myself standing by
the side of the road as they passed to wave and cheer them on, house keys in hand;
assuring myself that as soon as I had greeted each class, I would walk home and
head back to bed!
Except that my students were so surprised and happy to see
me, and the rhythm of their running was so strong, that I found myself running
along with them, first past the shops and houses as we left our little village,
then beyond into the fields.
I can honestly say that running has never been so much fun!
The singing and chanting and whistles and shrieks created a beat which everyone
ran in time with together and as one singer became tired another took over. Somehow
running seemed so much easier when each footstep is in time with 140 other feet
(and looking around I certainly wasn’t the only runner in flip flops!) and everyone
one around you is putting as much energy
into chanting at the tops of their voices as they are in running.
The class ahead of us left the cool morning air filled with
orange dust as they’d pounded along before us on the dry road. The sky was streaked
pink as the sun crept over the horizon and cast a soft amber light on the
houses and people as they went about their morning jobs; sweeping, collecting water,
stretching and just standing by the roadside as we passed by.
As I settled into the rhythm I looked at the other students
running with me. Some ventured ahead,
turned to run backwards and incorporated dance moves into their running, before
falling back within the group. Others practiced their judo kicks as they ran
and many others just clapped and sang and ran.
I realised that I’d joined the class in the top year group
with so many extremely fit sportsmen, who are at the stadium in the village most
evenings as they practice football, martial arts or volleyball! As we continued
further and further away from the village I did worry that I’d never make it
back, but after a moment’s ‘breather’ at the half way turning point, one of my
students took my hand and we ran together and he pulled me back up the hill! As
the village came back into view I picked up my pace again and found myself
surrounded by children from the village as they joined us for the final push
back to the stadium. I wondered how I’d found the stamina to keep up for the
whole run, which I’d say was around 7km. Perhaps my nights out dancing in
Kigali until the early hours have been of benefit after all!
We ran across the stadium, through the cool grass, damp with
dew, and formed a circle, as each class had also done. Within the large circle
of students, the children from the village also formed a smaller circle, loving
trying to complete each bend and stretch! Even the warm-down exercises and
stretches maintained that rhythm and different students took turns to come to
the middle of the circle to lead the exercises. Eventually everything descended
into a hip-hop style dance–off, followed by a grass fight! We jogged back to college,
everybody with huge smiles on their faces, feeling strong! My class did a final
lap of honour round the TTC, continuing the chanting at the tops of their
voices and it felt like the happiest start to the day ever!
I realised a few things: 5.30 am is a stunningly beautiful
time of the day here, it is cool and fresh and a running is a completely
invigorating way to start the day. A lack of sportswear is no barrier - nobody
batted an eyelid at me and my unconventional running shoes (which were also the
shoes of choice or necessity for many other students). My friend in the village
was right that running with the children here would be wonderful… and as I left
the college to finally head home again, one student approached me to tell me how
wonderful it had been that I was there and how happy it had made the
students that I had joined them. He added, ‘You
were so fast, you ran like a fox’!
I think I might have discovered my new favourite thing in
Rwanda – Muchaka Muchaka (Swahili).
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