We are very happy to host a series of posts by Stephen Pampuro about a wonderful adventure he had in runner’s Africa.
In January 2020 Stephen felt the need to embark on a new adventure in Africa, in the cradle of running, training in the highlands of Kenya and Ethiopia alongside some of the world’s strongest athletes. An experience that made him touch closely on the dramas of a continent struggling to get back on its feet, in the setting of the most serious epidemic in a hundred years. From this experience a book was born: Beyond the border. Journey to the heart of the cbear. The book was released yesterday, April 29, and you can purchase it on Amazon.
Happy reading!
Running often at dawn, I have the rest of the morning free so I take the opportunity to drop in on Kapsabet. I actually go there every day after breakfast, when the sun is almost at its zenith and the air turns into an oven.
I found a good supermarket in the village where I stock up on fruit and especially water, since I don’t feel like drinking tap water yet.
The only thing I seriously miss about Europe is the cuisine, and I have to say that when you eat tastefully, then the rest of the day takes a whole other turn. Between Italy, Spain and Greece, I have been used to it well, although I must say that I don’t mind Kenyan dishes at all. The problem is that the camp kitchen passes the same things over and over again. I can’t tell if the reason is to comply with some sports diet or to get the twenty-two guys who live there to agree. Ugali is their national dish, much like a porridge but lacking in flavor, and they accompany it with boiled vegetables and potatoes.
Meat is the other sore point. I know they don’t touch the pork one for a cultural reason, but I can’t understand what they have against the chicken and cow one. At lunch, on the other hand, rice with beans is always served; that never fails. I certainly didn’t come to Kenya to gorge on pasta, steak and ice cream, but when you spend a month eating only three things your belly rebels. So I defect and escape to the village where for less than two hundred shillings (2 euros) I treat myself to a somewhat different meal.
It’s my little break from the norm, along with the mini-size jar of Nutella I bought last Thursday that turns very ordinary slices of loaf of bread into princely breakfasts.
But there are two things that I really fell in love with by being at camp that I probably couldn’t do without anymore. Chaik and chapati, two institutions of Kenyan cuisine.
The former is a milk and tea drink that Kenyans drink mainly at breakfast and snack time. Probably a cultural legacy of the British, or perhaps vice versa. Chapatis, on the other hand, resemble flatbreads and are served to accompany meals. I like them so much that every night I go to peek into the little shack where Peter is intent on cooking hoping to find them for dinner.
Those who think of a camp for professional athletes will probably imagine a huge kitchen, with several cooks busy at all hours, but they would be sorely mistaken. Kitchens with stoves are very rare here, and everything is still done with pots and pans set over the embers. The kitchen is often a separate room from the living building, more likely a sheet metal shack lit just enough. If we think about it with our mindset we would never eat there, but here in Kenya it is a perfectly normal thing.
Despite being little more than a tool shed, paying a visit to Peter while he cooks has become a regular part of my day. I like Peter very much, and I have become very fond of him. A simple and caring guy, always able to put you in a good mood. When in the early days I could not get out of bed because of the fatigue of training, he always came to my room to bring me food like a dying person in the hospital.
Around seven o’clock, the inside of the shack is always lit by fire, and that dark, cramped space with cobwebs on the ceiling is transformed into a comfortable living room. I like to sit there on the wooden bench and watch Peter stir the ugali with very long wooden ladle. Muganghe’t, I think it is said in the Kalenjin language, but pronunciation has never been my forte. It’s never just the two of us alone, there’s always some of the kids walking by to have a word, and I try to jot down in my notebook all the new words I can learn.
I think Peter is the only Kenyan in the area who doesn’t run, and that’s quite comforting to me because it doesn’t make me feel like a Martian in this starry enclosure.
When the ugali is ready it is brought to the hall table and tipped onto a metal tray, then in turn each person takes a slice by adding the dish of their turn.
I have noticed that Kenyans eat quickly and quietly, and as soon as they finish they disappear to their room. I am the last one standing, partly because there is a very popular series on TV called Sellina that keeps me glued to the screen. It’s strange, because in Spain I wouldn’t watch it at all, while here I even find it enjoyable.
I get along very well with everyone, although I have bonded with only a few. Martin and Ewin are my two points of reference at camp, not only because I share a room with them, but because they are always looking out for me. Edwin speaks excellent English and has a very Western mindset. With his 2:07′ that earned him the Milan Marathon and other podiums of a certain caliber, he is also one of the most experienced marathoners. His wife and young son live a couple of miles away, yet he prefers to stay at camp like all the other kids.
Martin, on the other hand, has a very difficult story behind him; every time he tells me a piece of it, he always manages to amaze me as to how he has managed to find the strength to go on. In a society like this, where success is often tied to how hard you run, it is easy to see very rich athletes together with others who are dirt poor. Sometimes, especially among younger people, even the simplest things can seem like luxury goods.
Otherwise, the boys don’t have to think about anything but training and rest. Behind them is a well-structured society that never lets them lack the essentials, leaving them free to focus only on training.
(Main image credit atosan on DepositPhotos.com. The other images are from the author)