For those of you who know me even a little, you probably know that I am no athlete. I have tinkered around with running and jogging. I fenced for a while when I was younger and when I’m feeling especially sportive, perhaps I will shoot some baskets. But that’s it! Yet over the past couple few weeks, I’ve been learning more about running and the politics of national sports than I ever thought I would. I spent a week living in a poor area of town with the family of a girl who runs and is close friends with many of the best runners in the country. Running is a big game in East Africa. Some of the best and most famed long-distance runners, marathoners, and even sprinters come from Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda, and Somalia. And yet in the arena where it should shine the most, little Djibouti has often been shamed and completely unable to match the competition in surrounding countries. Perhaps until now.
Lately, I have seen the some of the best and most hilarious of Dj’s runners. Right now it is the cool season (low 80’s) which means lots of races both in the capital and in surrounding towns. There is a ministry of sports and it seems that politics is always involved as there are different teams competing for money and notice, which team you are on determines which races you can run, some people get lots of attention while other talented runners are left to train on their own without coaches, proper shoes or even water bottles. And generally, the men seem to get most of the glory while the women are left with little support or are sometimes even discouraged from running.
On the men’s side, besides the national team (which consists of mostly army guys and police), there is also a School of Sports where young guys train six days a week just outside a small town way up in the mountainous highlands of the country. About a year ago, there was a group of runners training at the stadium in the capital that got noticed, so the government moved the boys and their coach up to this sports school in the mountains to do some more serious competitive training (the girls got left behind at the stadium without any coach). While I was staying with one of the female runners, we went to Ali Sabieh where the guys train to surprise them on their day off. The boys at the school are like brothers to my friend. They have traveled together for different running competitions, so when we arrived they all came darting out and jumped on top of her, embracing her like a sister. We toured the new stadium and the school built especially for these up-and-coming athletes and lamented that there isn’t anything even close to the same support for girls. Two of the top guys at the school are Ayaleh and Saeed. Saeed is a hurdler who has won the East African junior championship in his event and Ayaleh is probably one of the fastest up-and-coming runners in the country and he seems poised to make a name for himself in long-distance running. I’ve seen him win two 10K races, one against other student athletes from Ethiopia, Rwanda, and Somalia and the other today in Arta. Both are about 18—sweet kids, but I think both know they are pretty good at what they do. Their English is so minimal, but they use it boldly and often with hilarious results. Both guys are about an inch taller than me (which is an accomplishment—I tower above the women and many of the men here) and they are very proud of this. One time, Ayaleh was showing me some pictures of a running competition he went to in Beirut and I commented on how much taller he is than the other Djiboutian runners. He stood up, slapped his chest and said “Ah yes. I am such a big tall man!” Certainly he does not suffer from confidence or self-esteem problems. :)
Today, I went with John and Lorraine, some American friends who’ve lived here for fourteen years and work closely with young athletes, to a race in Arta, a neighboring town. Even those runners who didn’t participate in the 10K went along to cheer on their friends. When the time came for awards, John, Lorraine, Saeed, Manuel (the coach) and I were standing off to the side. Saeed did not run today, but that did not stop him from joking with the man issuing the awards, shouting “Hey, Mister Big Man! Speak my name! Speak my name! Where is the trophy for me? I am the best!” Sometimes I think these guys really get a little carried away with themselves, but then I remember that I am not an ambitious teenage athlete with the world at my feet like they are. When I hear them calling their coach “dad” or watch them embracing John and Lorraine as their parents or supporting the female runners as their sisters, grinning as they stand on their tiptoes to reach John’s height, I remember that they are still just boys. They are all mostly from poor families and who knows what things are like at home? Like many others here, they probably can’t even read and write in their native language (Somali). Today, while we were touring Arta, the town where the race was held, I met Fathia, one of the female sprinters. Fathia was the only Djiboutian athlete to compete in the Olympics in Beijing—she’s kind of a big deal, but not as big as she would have been had she been a boy. When I asked her who she thought had the potential to go to London for the 2012 Olympics, she pointed to Ayaleh (who I later found out has only been running a year and a half) and said “He is strong and very fast. The whole country is depending on him.” A heavy burden for an 18 year old kid.
So we spent the morning in Arta, cheering all the runners (but particularly the girls). Both John and Lorraine are/have been runners. Lorraine has run for years and competed and done well in several races in east Africa and John was training for the Olympic Marathon back in the day before he injured himself. Right now, they are trying to start a sponsorship program for the girls who got left behind at the stadium to train on their own. They want to provide basic running gear, transportation, coaching, medical and training advice as well as help each of the girls acquire a trade and learn English so they can support themselves after they stop running. Lorraine is a great cheerleader and was so thrilled that each of the girls she has encouraged did well and completed the 10K. At first, the organizers tried to resist her signing up her girls, giving all kinds of excuses and saying the 10K was only for men, but they finally relented after she put up a bit of a fight. The first four girls to finish were ones who she had encouraged and it was remarkable to see them finish their first 10K ever—actually the first girl to finish looked like she could run another 10K right there. The girls don’t get much encouragement elsewhere. About a month ago, there was a race in Ali Sabieh (where the School of Sports is) and some people in the crowd threw rocks at the girls. A few of the girls were hurt and had to drop out while teammates and friends protected them and tended to their wounds. They’re all ok now—no major injuries, but it gives you an idea of what they sometimes face. Many of the girls even injure themselves while training because with no coach, they just run however fast and long they want without much knowledge of pacing, gait or even stretching. So if you want to help sponsor an aspiring female runner, let me know!
By far, the most amusing and craziest part of the race in Arta were the more minor races held after the 10K. They also organized a 5K, 3K and 1K for younger boys, locals, and girls. Most of them ran in whatever clothes they had—we saw girls in jeans, boys in boxers, and the majority of them were either running in flip flops or barefoot holding flip flops in their hands and a few oddballs who ran in socks. Out of dozens of runners, you could have counted the number of shoes they had on one hand. (Most of those who ran the 10K train for it and do have shoes and real running clothes.) Some of the runners looked as young as 8 or 10 and it was easy to see most of them were running just for the love of it. How else could you run a 5K barefoot unless you just loved to run? Some of them flew by us at lightning speed too. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day, the whole country is pinning their hopes of Olympic glory on one of the little ones we saw today.
Pictures above—me playing ping pong at the School of Sports in Ali Sabieh. This is where the male up-and-coming athletes live and train. One of the coaches challenged me to a ping pong match and after I beat him (or we’ll say I did—no official score was tallied), he passed the paddle around until at least a dozen of the runners had had their crack at me. I don’t think their ping pong skills are quite equal to their track and field skills. :)
The other picture is after the 10K race in Arta. The white folks are John and Lorraine. Manuel, the coach at the School of Sports, is on the right, the upper left is Ayaleh, the winner of the race, and lower left is Mahado, one of the girls John and Lorraine want to sponsor. She had just finished her first 10K!
