Running Wild

This weekend I ran my very first (short) long distance race! Six of us “baturi” (white people) ran the 5km race, and with over 1500 runners racing down the narrow strip of dusty pavement, it was certainly a memorable “first race” experience.

My running partner from the local stadium encouraged me to run the 5km race, as she and the other athletes were running either 10km or 21km. I have never run in an official race, I usually just run in team sports; such as in soccer, where I run after the ball; or in rugby, where I run after the person carrying the ball, or away from the person wanting to tackle me. So yes, I can run, but I have always managed to avoid organized running or races, the idea of running with masses of people on pavement has never really appealed to me.

Well, as it happens, I have quickly become friends with a group of athletes at the local stadium where I’ve started jogging several times a week. Now these are not recreational athletes like me; but rather professional athletes who compete across Africa and Europe in various short or long distance running events. So, I am definitely not about to challenge any one of them in a foot race, but the “marathon” I participated in yesterday was just a fun community event, so I decided to run my first race with 1500 other natural-born runners (not so smart, I know).

We woke up bright and early Sat morning, drove our scooters out to the race grounds in the very dark morning, and quickly lined up to collect our t-shirts and race numbers. The race officials had previously informed all participants that there was a limited number of t-shirts; so to ensure we would get a t-shirt, they encouraged us to arrive no later than 5am for the 7am race, ugh… In any case, with the help of a strong cup of coffee, I managed to get myself there on time (I am NOT a morning person).

7:00 AM – The race is supposed to start at 7AM sharp, so everyone has already gathered at the edge of the road (starting line), and you can feel the excitement buzzing through the air as runners of all ages and sizes begin jostling for the best starting position. Many children are participating in the 5km race, most are barefoot or wearing flip flops, and the privileged are wearing well used second-hand runners, men and women of all shapes and sizes in shorts, tights, pants, and even skirts. As the only group of white people participating in the race, we quickly became unlikely celebrities and we provided some great pre-race entertainment for the other runners as we stretched out our cold, morning muscles. I’m sure the kids next to me were taking bets on how quick the white girl was going to drop out of the race! White people can’t jump, and I’m pretty sure they don’t run either…

7:30 AM – After several false starts, close encounters with the stampeding mob, we were still waiting impatiently behind the starting line. Initially, my competitive nature got the better of me, and I thought it would be best to get as close to the front of this mob as possible, but thankfully some common sense kicked in (and the voice of reason from my running buddies), so we fell back to the middle of the pack to avoid the pushing and shoving that was bound to happen as soon as the horn sounded.

7:45 AM – The 21KM and 10KM runners were off, the 5KM group was supposed to wait, but of course, mob mentality set in and we were off!! Pounding down the pavement, the runners were off at fast run, trying to secure a position in front of the melee, women and children were knocked to the ground as the crowd pushed forward, and I did my best to maintain my balance as I ran with my elbows out. The first 200 metres were pure chaos, but as the rhythm of feet and flip flops slapping the pavement set in, I was quite enjoying the feeling of running a race in the crisp, clean, morning air, ah… so exhilarating! I found myself thinking “I could do this more often, this is kind of fun!” That was after the first 500 metres. By the time I reached the first kilometer marker, the harmattan (fine dust) had filled my lungs and cloaked my airway, my mouth was dry and my eyes were tearing as I tried to keep my contacts moist in the dusty and smoke polluted morning air. At the second kilometer, I nearly lost my footing as I tripped over several young boys who had stopped suddenly, but focused only on the finish line, I regained my balance and did not dare to stop and check on the boys – I’m sure they were fine…

8:00AM – I am still running, I can see the finish line in the distance, but it’s up hill and I think there are several hundred runners that have already crossed it – those must have been the pushy ones at the front. I rounded the corner, and now at a fast run I am focused on the finish line, trying to hold off the 10 year old boy gaining on me from behind, suddenly I am stopped in my tracks about a 100 meters BEFORE the finish line, as a race official directs me to stand in the growing line of race contestants. What’s this? I don’t get to break across a finish line with my arms out wide and head flung back as I expel every last bit of strength to cross that line in victory!? Well no, because the finish line is setup so that everyone must cross it single file, then collect your medal (the first 1000 runners), water, and breakfast baguette. Slightly disappointed that I couldn’t sprint across the finish line, but I did still beat the 10 year old boy the back of the line, AND I got a medal along with the other 66% of the participants, so all in all, the race was a success. J

My athletic friends from the stadium, well yes they did in fact win first place in their races (shown in picture with trophies), so I figure if I train with them all year maybe for the next race I’ll at least get to run across the finish line and not have to wait at the back of a single file line. The shorter girl in the picture, on the right, she set the record for the 21km run last year: 1 hr, 9 min. Wow. Ok, so I am at a bit of a disadvantage, both of these girls come from a mountainous area of Benin known best for its long-distance runners.

Great fun, I’ve never participated in an organized race in Canada, so I’m not sure what they are supposed to be like, but this was certainly an adrenaline pumping race and definitely worth doing again. I made quite a few friends through the other runners, shared some laughs, and I promised that the “baturi” would run again in next year’s race.

Achi densu!

(“Later” in Dendi)

Rules of the Road 101

Greetings from sunny Parakou, where the dust never settles, the smoky cooking fires never cease, and the shouts of “Baturi!” (“white person”) greet you along every road.

I’ve lost track of time out here, as I’m in the African time zone where the hours, days, and weeks all melt together; but based on my calendar, I’ve been here nearly a month and am settling in nicely.

I moved into my apartment on the mission compound just after Christmas and was very thankful that my parents came to visit from Niger and helped me get set up and unpacked while I focused on learning my responsibilities in the office.

Outside of the office, I have dedicated my time to mastering the spiderweb-like roads of Parakou on my new “moto” (motorbike). I bought a shiny, red 100cc Yamaha scooter off the former treasurer, and after a minor altercation with the cement curb in the mission parking lot, I’ve been quite pleased with my moto. Parakou has many paved and cobblestone roads, complete with traffic lights and road signs, however I quickly learned that many of these “road signs” are really just for aesthetic purposes, and actually attempting to obey some of the signs could be downright hazardous. For example, the Pedestrian sign is rather misleading, because to the uninformed, it gives the false impression that Pedestrians have right-of-way.

Rules of the Road

1. Pedestrians Signs: Pedestrians NEVER have right-of-way; signs are only to alert drivers that they should be prepared to honk or swerve around foolish pedestrians attempting to cross the road.

2. Stop Signs: Could indicate a major intersection, but actually stopping would be suicidal, as the motorists following you would be forced to swerve around you, honking and gesturing angrily at your traffic “faux-pas.”


3. Signal Lights: The preferred method of signaling on a moto is using one’s hand to point. However, this should not be confused with moto drivers using their hands in conversation with their passenger(s), or waving to friend on the roadside, or just pointing into the distance for no apparent reason. The best way to determine whether a moto is turning or not, is to carefully scrutinize the lean or tilt of the driver’s upper body, indicating which direction he or she is planning to turn.


4. Speed Limits: There are speed limit signs posted around town, but the general rule of thumb for speed here, is to go as fast as your moto will allow, restricted only by pot holes, goats, chickens, and unmarked speed bumps. Speed “bumps” here are constructed in a manner that makes them similar to hitting a 6 inch cement curb, so it is best to quickly learn where these unmarked speed bumps exist and slow down accordingly.


5. Traffic Lights: These are my favorite, because depending on many variables, including power shortages, the traffic lights may or may not be functioning. So, when the lights are functioning, local traffic allows a period of grace for motos and some vehicles after the light turns red. Unless you are a foreigner, then you must stop at the orange light, otherwise risk a hefty fine from the police man resting under the tree. Once the first person stops, everyone following usually stops, and then the motos begin to line up, all jockeying for the front position, and soon the swarm of scooters is covering both lanes of the entire road. Amazingly enough, when the light turns green, the motos all move forward and funnel onto the right side of the road to avoid oncoming traffic.


6. Left Turns: Turning left is a bit of an art here, whether you’re driving a moto or a car. Signaling can be used, but not at all required, and is really misleading because the left turning signal means many different things in local traffic, so is rarely used for actually making a left turn. So, begin by easing into the middle of the road, however understand that traffic coming behind you will continue swarm around both sides of you, and even if you left signal is on, people will continue to pass you on the left hand side, so you must be very aware of the oncoming traffic and traffic behind you. To avoid stopping in the middle of the road, it’s best to cross over to the opposite lane whenever you can, and then continue driving on the shoulder into oncoming traffic until your left turn arrives. Once you have turned left, it’s perfectly acceptable to remain on the left side of the road for a while, continuing to drive on the shoulder of oncoming traffic and waiting for an opportunity to wander back onto the right-hand side of the road.


7. Pot Holes: These are objects that govern the flow and direction of traffic, it is important to swerve around these no matter what, ignoring oncoming traffic or other vehicles/motorbikes around you. Swerving around pot holes is most effective at high speeds, slowing down is only for the faint of heart.


8. Use of Horn: Honking rarely indicates driver frustration, but rather represents a complex road language, depending on the length or volume of the horn, and how many times it is repeated. Here are some examples of how the horn can be used to communicate with other motorists or pedestrians:
   
1. Single short horn: A friendly “Hello” or a notice to pedestrians/children to be aware of traffic.


2. Double short horn: Notify other motorists that you’re passing them on the left, or a zemi-jean (moto taxi) soliciting his services.


3. Single long horn: “Hey!” – could be an annoyed “hey”, or just a slight reprimand to another motorist not obeying any one of the 7 rules listed above.


4. Double short, then long horn (and repeat): “GET OUT OF THE WAY!!” (generally used by large trucks or buses). Either the driver’s brakes do not work, or they are in a hurry, or just a very important person who wants to know that he or she is important and traffic should give way (this is also signaled by the use of headlights during daylight or dusk hours).

Those are the general traffic rules I have observed so far, so I’m doing my best to adapt my driving skills avoid any collisions in the confusion.

Prior to my arrival in Parakou, I was quite excited about learning the local language in town, Bariba; however now that I’m here, I found out that not only is Bariba spoken in town, but also a mixture of about a dozen other languages! Everyone speaks French, but selecting a single local language to learn is difficult, because every person I meet speaks a different language. My new language plan is to at least learn “hello” in various local languages, and then I’ll have to decide which one I want to focus on learning in more detail. Learning a few key words in any local language is very helpful for bartering in the markets, but that’s a whole different subject for another day I think. So until next time, or in one of the many local languages, Yom: “gna-mu-seht!” (spelling unknown, wrote it like it sounds…)