Hash

It’s not what you think; not corned beef. Let me explain. There is a group of runners here who get together every Saturday evening for a run. One of the organizers sets up the course. There are about 12 different ones ranging from 3-7 miles within 5 miles of Niamey. Each course also has a shorter walking course and many people walk. They try to make it so that the slowest runners come back about the same time that the slowest walkers do (about 1 to 1.5 hours).

Yesterday, we drove across the river up onto the table top plateau overlooking the valley and Niamey. The road up was steep and narrow. A donkey cart carrying firewood was coming down and slowed the line of SUV’s going up. They tried to turn the donkey around and the cart tipped over, spilling all the wood onto the road. Fortunately, I saw ahead what was happening and parked at the bottom. Eventually, everyone else backed down and parked along side us. We walked up to the top. Camille and Stefan came with our neighbors since Jennifer offered to walk with the kids. James and I planned on running.

The route went close to the rim of the plateau with dramatic vistas. The weather had cooled and it was beautiful. The terrain had a lot of lava rocks and packed dirt after the last rain storm. The open landscape was covered with small brush and some tall Dr. Seuss-looking palm trees. Leading up to the surrounding plateaus are sand dunes and the contrast between yellow blond sand and burnt brown lava rock certainly reminded me of being on the moon. I think of Serge and the Grand Canyon. I wish he were here because I know there would be no stopping him from further exploration of this small range of bluffs. The river valley below looks fertile and a few tall buildings off in the distance landmark Niamey.

We start running and I find a slow pace which is comfortable for me. James runs next to me with his daughter, Athena. He is a fine runner and I know he is quite capable of a much faster speed. But he is gentle and his slow pace allows his daughter to run with us for a little bit. I’m surprised how long she lasts but fairly soon, she slows down and he does also. I continue my pace, certain that James will not only catch up to me but most certainly pass me in a very short while. I come up on two African boys. They started out running with the lead group but began to fall behind. They both have those Adidas sandals people wear by the pool. They have no water and I can see they are eager to run but ill-equipped. I offer them water which they gladly accept. The older boys name is Careem. I looked about 9 and 7, but Careem is 15 and his younger brother Amadou is 11.

Despite my limited French, I learn so much about them. Their father works at a hotel. They both go to a french school and have two other brothers and a sister. I give them the water and increase my speed, but they keep up with me. The coarse was about 4.5 miles and we finish the run together.

And NO! There are no rituals were the runners partake in the smoking of hash from a hooka pipe! Although there are rumors that such rituals exist in different parts of the world. Down beside the parked vehicles, there are ice chests full of coke. No! Not the narcotic but cold drinks (sodas, beer, mineral water). James arrives about 20 minutes later. He had to run back a little to deliver Athena to Jennifer and then took off. He didn’t catch me although I’m sure he could have. We both had a great run. He bought my two African companions a coke which they were ecstatic about. A grey cloud cover blew over us and the sun began to sink. The Hash is yet another event that one can partake in that adds to the enjoyment of ones stay here. I plan on becoming a regular.