Leaving Footprints

Leaving Footprints

When I first decided to make the leap, to join the Peace Corps, my biggest concern was not missing my friends, was not missing my family, was not missing favorite foods, was not leaving behind the comforts of the first world. These things were all certainties. I prepared myself to know that I would, in fact, miss my friends, miss my family, miss my favorite foods, and miss the luxuries of showers and a Starbucks five minutes down the road all dearly. The one uncertainty, and thus my biggest concern, was would I have to miss and give up running for 26 months of my life (coincidence that my service is 26 months and a marathon is 26.2 miles…)? Laugh if you will, but over the years running has become a part of my life, and thus a part of me. When not running during service was mentioned as a possibility during my initial interview, I took a big gulp and braced myself. “Sure” I could do that, more trying to convince myself rather than the woman across from me writing down every last word that I uttered.

When I arrived to South Africa, and as I met with our group’s wonderful Peace Corps Medical Officers (seriously, we love our PCMOs), I expressed my concern of not being able to run in my village. When I asked them about being able to run, and telling them that this was my biggest worry at the moment, I was fearful that they would chuckle or even worse, say “no” and bear out my greatest fear. Fortunately for me, they confirmed that this is a common anxiety for many volunteers, and that I would, in fact, be able to run at my site. Phew!

When I first arrived to site, my running was the talk of the village. I figured I might as well let everyone know I run from the ghetco, so as to not come out with any surprises later on. I was already something new to the village, and my running could go along with this newness, or this strangeness rather. The kids LOVED it! During my site visit, and on my first run in the village, I had at least 20 (I stopped counting since I lost track) giggling, barefoot children running after me. How they can run barefoot is still a mystery to me, but they do, and fast! People on the street stared, as this strange white female ran without any apparent reason. After all, nothing seemed to be chasing after me. A few Gogo’s started jogging along, curious as to what I was doing.

Running helped everyone in the village to get to know me. At first my running caused my host family, my fellow teachers, and the adults in the village some unease – being very protective, they did not want anything bad to happen to me. When I talked to my host brother about it he compared me to “his egg,” that he had to take care of since I was very “fragile.” Almost 9 months later, this “egg” still runs 4-5 days a week in my village. Whether I prefer it or not, if the kids are up and not busy with chores, they join me, still giggling and barefoot. My host family and those who were a bit nervous at first have grown comfortable with my running (or have just given up trying to talk me out of running), especially now that Jack and Butch (my 2 dogs) accompany me, again whether I like it or not. Aside from the smile I get when I go for a run and I hear the kids yelling “Naledi! Naledi!” over the volume of my music, running puts me at peace. It acts as my “me” time, my time for reflection. Depending on the time of day, it starts my day off on the right foot or it helps me to unwind. It keeps me being me, and reminds me that no matter where I go, all I need is my pair of sneakers to keep me going.

Running also offers me some amusement as the races here are a tad bit different from in America. Since coming to South Africa, I have been able to participate in 3 road races thus far. The first race I ran was back in early October. It was about 9km, in my shopping town of Giyani. I was psyched since I wasn’t sure how many opportunities I would have to race (it seemed that I would have more than I originally thought). For this race, my friend/fellow PCV Jill and I were chatting and all of the sudden, without any warning, Jill and I realized the race had started. We were off! In addition, since there were no bag checks or places to put our things, we were forced to wear our XL race t-shirt over our running outfits during the race. Without any other option, we pinned our pieces of cloth with spray-painted numbers to our bright and rather baggy yellow t-shirts. Finishing first and second for women, Jill and I posed for many pictures after the race. We enjoyed vaars and cold drink after cooling down.

The second race was held in late March. This was the Longtom Marathon and included either a 56km or a 21km, in Mmpumalanga. Many PCVs did this race, as it benefited the KLM foundation, helping to send impoverished youth to university. I chose to do the 21km, and enjoyed every minute of it. The snacks along the course could have easily been confused for a Movie Theatre Concession Stand, offering everything from chocolate covered bananas to small candies to gummy bears to coca-cola. Additionally, rather than handing out cups of water, there were bags of water which were much easier to drink. At one point I was offered a beer which, sorry to say, I had to turn down. Side note – I enjoyed this race so much that I will be heading up the Longtom Committee for 2013 along with two other
volunteers. I’m wicked excited!!

The third and most recent race, which was about 10km in distance, was also held in my shopping town. This race started on African time, about 45 minutes after the scheduled start. Instead of numbers we were given index cards in little baggies to pin onto our shirts. My favorite part of the race was prior to the start, as all of us stood ready to go and we sang the South African National Anthem. Again Jill placed first while I took second. During our warmup we had discussed hoping that this encourages women in South Africa to run, and to compete. As I raced I thought about this, and could see that some of the women I passed were motivated to do well. They were beating men, not allowing gender stereotypes to hold them back.

Running in the races I do gives me a lot of hope for a united South Africa. Running is such a common language, where race, age, and gender do not matter. Women run along men, children along elders, and blacks along whites. All of us lace up our shoes and go, everyone understanding the joys and the pains of running. It has been at these races where I have seen the most diversity, and it has been at these races where I have seen so much joy and happiness.

With running, you leave your footprints and you leave a trail where you have gone. You are able to set your own pace, make your own path. This made me reflect on the figurative sense of “leaving footprints.” As I approach the 1 year mark in my service, I hope that I have been able to leave my footprints in at least some places, with some people. I hope that I am making a positive difference where I am working and living. I know for certainty that the people I live and work with have left footprints for me, changing me for the better, and making me a better person. So, leave footprints, run your race without fear or inhibitions. Just go.
Ke rata go kitima (I love to run) – Sepedi

Ni rhandza ku tsutsuma (I love to run) – Xitsonga

Le rata,
Meg :)