Well, on Monday night I didn't die of heat exhaustion nor did i get lost on the way home, but I did run for 50 minutes up and down the hills around Freetown. I'm not after a medal or anything, and I promise I won't keep going on about it, but it was bleeping tiring. It was organised by a group who choose a new run every Monday evening, called the Hash run (apparently it's an international society - look it up next time you're in a foreign land and want to meet some locals & expats).
Anyway, the Freetown run this week toured through the back streets, the even smaller back streets, the paths and even smaller paths that you wouldn't even notice were there. The route started in the New England suburb, by the Special Court (recently in the news, as Charles Taylor, now on trial in the Haig, started his trial in this purpose built court), we ran/jogged (there is the option to join a slower, walking group, following the same route, and given the way my legs feel, still 2 days later, I might take up that option in future) through the slums up on the steep hills around the town. It was amazing how supportive the locals were, when a group of mainly white people (there were about 1/3 locals, or 'indigenous native Sierra Leonean nationals', as some say. I'll call them locals, and hope i don't offend anyone). Anyway, it felt a bit like running the marathon, with groups all along the route, cheering us to keep going, sometimes looking on in amazement, but never complaining that 50 loud, sweaty runners of all ages had just run through their back garden/living room/work place. Instead, they stood quietly back, watching, sometimes cheering, sometimes joining in the run, until the hills got the better of them, sometimes just going about their business, as if nothing had happened.
The run is very organised, marked by tiny piles of finely shredded paper, with the occasional intentional dead end to stop the fastest runners from getting too far ahead. I took a few pictures, mainly as an excuse to pause for breath and walk for a few seconds, but also as a way to enjoy the surroundings, the sunset over the city, from the slums on the side of the mountain was a pretty spectacular sight. I wonder if this little phone camera did it justice.
Another example of general good spirited citizenship: At one point we crossed a busy road on the outskirts of town. Campbell street. The traffic happily stopped and waved us through. One man is his car, obviously coming home from work, sat patiently at the front of the queue, as we slowly negotiated the cars and other makeshift vehicles that use the semi tarmacced area, sometimes called a street. How did i know that he wasn't upset that we'd interrupted his journey home? This suited man was actively giving us
When we arrived back at the bar we had started from, cold water and beer awaited us. This was followed by the formation of a large human circle, into the middle of which all new comers were invited. About 7 of us stepped forward. After a brief chat with the organiser of the run, introducing ourselves to the society, we all downed a beer, to the encouragement of the rest of the crowd. This was repeated for anyone who was about to leave the country, as well as anyone returning. All good fun.
My legs failing me slowly, I started to walk home, then as it became dark, I decide to jump in a taxi. Remembering advice, I negotiated the fare before i got in, bartering the driver down from 10,000Leones to 6000Le. £1.20 for a 15 drive. My first successful haggle! I climbed in and reached round for the seat belt. I thought to myself, "that was a bit hopeful, wasn't it". I also noticed the window had no winder, and just one speaker was blaring some 80's pop, but it was good to be sat down and moving in the right direction.
[Photos from the run are on http://picasaweb.google.com/murrayforsyth/SierraLeone# ]
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