An Evening Jog

For the first time in 5 months, I went running outside the compound.  Before you jump to the conclusion that I'm extremely lazy or housebound all the time, I'll have you know that I am a sporadic jogger and the Project Mercy compound is 50 acres.  It's not difficult to remain in the confines of the 4 walls for a week at a time, leaving only for church and trips to use the internet in Butajira. 

About an hour before sunset on a Saturday evening, equipped with my I-pod, I ventured out of the gate.  I was listening to some new music reminiscent of the Out of Africa soundtrack, for those of you familiar with that.  I wish there was a camera built into my forehead to capture all the sights and sounds happening along the way.  Since there isn't, I'll do my best to describe it…

The music I was listening to really set the mood to make me feel like I was in a movie, strolling through life in Africa.  First, I passed by women and kids carrying their water jugs to the nearby well for tomorrow's supply of water. Then I reached the well, with a small crowd mingling around.  Some smiled and greeted me; others just stared, bewildered at the site of a ferengi running.  As I made my way around the first corner of the compound, a handful of kids ran up to shake my hand with huge smiles on their faces and clusters of flies gathered at their eyes and running noses.  "Why don't flies bother me or other adults here?" I pondered.  Because they know better; the kids are easy targets because they learned to be desensitized to the flies' annoying tickle when they were wrapped on their mothers' backs as infants, arms tucked in the nutella, or cloth, unable to swat them away.

As I journeyed on, I passed an adolescent boy who boldly demanded, "Where are you go?"  Then past a poor ox chewing on some dried enset (false banana) leaves, looking up at me dejectedly as if to say "this tastes terrible, but it's all they got."  A couple girls were sitting in front of their tookel braiding one another's hair.  Men were turning over the soil with long-handled spears, chanting as they worked to keep a rhythm and prevent the work from becoming too laborious.  I greeted everyone I passed by saying Asham, which is the Graginia (local tribal language) word for hello.  Most would respond with Asham.  Several older women laughed and said something like "the ferengi said Asham!  She knows Graginia!"…when in fact, that is one of about 3 words I know in Graginia!

At one point two little boys, probably about 5-6 years old, began to follow my shadow.  Initially, when I glanced back and realized they were following me, they timidly slacked back.  Then I told them in Amharic to hurry and keep up.  Bright white teeth appeared as they broke into smiles and continued on the path in their bare, dust-covered feet.  A while later, they yelled to 4 girls chatting nearby.  The girls came running to get a better view of the spectacle the boys had interrupted them about.  The gawked for a second and then I challenged "Rootoo", meaning "run with us."  Giggling, they joined the parade.  They eyed my I-pod and declared "One camera!" "Photo!" I tried to explain that it was music, not a camera.  As I rounded another corner, exiting their jurisdiction, they bid me "caio!"  Then I was on the home stretch back to the compound gate, passing the same women and kids with filled water jugs, bearing the heavy loads on their backs, yet still smiling!  I wished I could lessen the load for them. 

Two of the housekids peered over the wall from the inside, calling my name and laughing at me being out in "the world."  I'm comfortable and secure in the Project Mercy bubble, but felt so alive being in the midst of daily life in Yetebon.  I can't wait to do it again!