It's less pleasant running without the iPod because I can't really tune out the Ugandans.
I'm more tolerant of the calm, respectful children now, and if they give an appropriate volume "see you" or "bye," I will respond. Unfortunately this only makes up a small percentage of the children I pass along the way.
I've changed the time of day that I run so they won't run along beside me and screw up my pace, as a result I ran a good time, better than the one that screwed up my knee in February.
My major annoyance right now is children who are in the back of their home, 20 - 30 yards off the road, who see me running by and sprint to the front screaming at the top of their lungs, often in a disrespectful tone (or at least what we would consider a disrespectful tone) trying to get my attention. I've started yelling at them not in a voice of anger, but violent rage, and that has been quieting them up a bit.
As I passed through one village on the 7th mile of my run a boy said "Mu-zung-u" in a high pitched voice as they often do. I held out my hands to the side and said "what" in an annoyed voice, since I knew that he had no purpose besides calling to me than his own amusement. He repeated "Mu-zung-u" and I repeated, "what!" Mistaking what I was doing for an English greeting a woman standing beside him then held out her hands to the side and said, "What!," as I looked down the street adults and children all started greeting me as I ran by with, "What!"
By far the thing I hate the most about this place is the attention. There are white people everywhere, it is no less common for a Ugandan to see a white person than for an American to come across someone with a strong accent. That doesn't change the fact that I remain a celebrity, and there does not appear to be any type of acclamation to my fame. No amount of repetition of encountering me has any effect. No amount of explanation can convey to them that the way they treat me makes me want to leave. They teach their children to harass white people as if it was game, like spotting Volkswagens. Back home running was the thing I looked forward to at the end of a day to clear my mind, here, I have the same longing, but the results are so much less. Like the Peace Corps as a whole there are highs and lows on the run, and even though I may have 5 uninterrupted minutes I often encounter some dirty, loud, and overly self absorbed children that essentially destroy any of the therapeutic value of the run.
On a final note. I believe there is or was a short term volunteer in my area named Danny who has/had a shaved head. Why. Because the kids are all shouting Danny at me as I run.
No comments:
Post a Comment