Many of you know I'm a runner, in some shape or form. I never thought I would be, since I hated running when I had to do it in high school for tennis, ski team, or soccer practice, but I picked it up while I was living in South Africa. At that time, I was living in the Free State Province, which is full of open skies and flat roads by big farms.I was was there learning how to identify animal bones at a research station about 45 minutes from the nearest town, and there wasn't much else to do - so I started running with some people who lived in the research center compound, and surprised myself with how much I liked it. I'm not a very fast runner, but I enjoy it for many reasons besides that proverbial "runner's high" - it helps me sleep better and feel better, physically, emotionally, and mentally. I don't "train" for races, because that implies some sort of schedule and work, while I think of running as fun. (I'm running in the Army Ten Miler in october for the fourth year in a row, if anyone wants to come out and witness the amazing human spectacle that is about 25,000 people running 10 miles in downtown DC! I'm always awed and humbled by the "Missing Parts in Action" team of service men and women who are running with prosthetic limbs. But I digress.)
I particularly enjoy running on the road nearby to our camp - the road that goes, including a few turns, from Nairobi south to Magadi, towards the border with Tanzania. The road is fairly level and the scenery is gorgeous - mostly dry scrub-brush dotted with acacia bushes, groups of birds swooping across the sky. I've been running a few late afternoons now, and I usually pass a group of Maasai women and girls hanging out by the side of the road. The first time I ran by them, they were asking me in Swahili where I was coming from and where I was going. I replied that I was coming from camp, and running just around here, and going back. They were trying to figure out what in the world this strange woman was doing! One young girl, maybe 8 or 9 years old, followed me for maybe 50 feet down the road, running behind me, with a big smile on her face. I turned around, gave her a big smile, and she stopped - covering her mouth with her hand and laughing. It was adorable. I wave to them each time I pass by them, and they wave back.
Yesterday this really young Maasai boy - perhaps 5 or 6 - came walking into camp. He had two sticks in one hand, and in the other hand he carried a plastic jug, made from a corn oil container with the top cut off. He walked up to me, as I was sitting at my "desk" where I was analyzing fossils (see photo below, from last year), and bowed his head slightly so I could place my palm on it -- the traditional Maasai greeting between a child and their elder. I asked him, in Swahili, if he wanted some water; it's not uncommon for Maasai, especially young boys out herding their cows or goats all day, to come into our camp and ask for water (which we always give them). But he didn't answer, he just stared at me. He was very photogenic, and I wished I had my camera; but even if I had, it's not polite to photograph Maasai (though I could have asked him if it was OK, and I liked the idea of showing him his own picture on my digital camera screen).
I particularly enjoy running on the road nearby to our camp - the road that goes, including a few turns, from Nairobi south to Magadi, towards the border with Tanzania. The road is fairly level and the scenery is gorgeous - mostly dry scrub-brush dotted with acacia bushes, groups of birds swooping across the sky. I've been running a few late afternoons now, and I usually pass a group of Maasai women and girls hanging out by the side of the road. The first time I ran by them, they were asking me in Swahili where I was coming from and where I was going. I replied that I was coming from camp, and running just around here, and going back. They were trying to figure out what in the world this strange woman was doing! One young girl, maybe 8 or 9 years old, followed me for maybe 50 feet down the road, running behind me, with a big smile on her face. I turned around, gave her a big smile, and she stopped - covering her mouth with her hand and laughing. It was adorable. I wave to them each time I pass by them, and they wave back.
Yesterday this really young Maasai boy - perhaps 5 or 6 - came walking into camp. He had two sticks in one hand, and in the other hand he carried a plastic jug, made from a corn oil container with the top cut off. He walked up to me, as I was sitting at my "desk" where I was analyzing fossils (see photo below, from last year), and bowed his head slightly so I could place my palm on it -- the traditional Maasai greeting between a child and their elder. I asked him, in Swahili, if he wanted some water; it's not uncommon for Maasai, especially young boys out herding their cows or goats all day, to come into our camp and ask for water (which we always give them). But he didn't answer, he just stared at me. He was very photogenic, and I wished I had my camera; but even if I had, it's not polite to photograph Maasai (though I could have asked him if it was OK, and I liked the idea of showing him his own picture on my digital camera screen).
Comments