Bouncing and bumping in hospital transport on our way to work this morning, we saw a sign suspended between two trees in the main street. Unexpectedly, it advertised a fun-run this coming weekend. 
The idea of running for fun seems curiously out-of-place here, like a string quartet at a rugby match. I haven’t heard of, nor can I really imagine, people here having the luxury of enough time, money and concern for future health to invest in the effortful expenditure of excess energy. But Rob tells me that there is an active aerobics group and running club at the sports club in Blantyre, and we did read about the Zomba Walking Club in the local paper. (It has six members, one on crutches, but they all attend regularly.)
So this morning Sue and I went for a brief run, perhaps encouraged by the reminder of what is possible. Sue is a serious runner in the UK, and I find her in the kitchen stretching, wearing black and pink lycra. I’m in shorts and a long-sleeve T-shirt which I slept in. We’re not sure how people will react to seeing white people running, so my sleepiness is edged with a slight feeling of excitement and apprehension as we emerge from our gate and begin plodding down the road. Read the rest of this entry »
Gareth in Malawi 