Though I do technically run, I don’t consider myself a “runner.” I never really enjoyed it and my short, stumpy body isn’t remotely built for it either (anyone that reads my posts will be familiar with my love of the bicycle, however). Living in Dar es Salaam of all places is slowly changing that – even though there aren’t what you would call “sidewalks” or “parks” to really facilitate physical activity, my runs along the narrow and at times harrowing streets on the Indian Ocean have been at once hilarious, beautiful, uplifting and, dare I say, enjoyable.
Ocean Road near my office in the city center is virtually undeveloped, and a precious open space that is lively and active as the sun sets – teenage guys play soccer, partners do calisthenics and running drills in the sand, loners shadow box, people sit on the eroding sea wall and watch the waves, ladies and gentlemen sell coconuts and ice cream. It’s not just the beautiful scenery that makes running less painful – it’s the people too. The coconut vendors cheer me on with chats of “Mazoezi, sista!” (“Exercise, sister!”), “Yes! Yes!”, and “Safi sana!” (“Very fresh!”). Passers-by also dole out big smiles and thumb’s ups that are just bursting with encouragement – perhaps these little gestures are meant to keep a little runner going who looks positively bedraggled, beet red and broken down. But in the moment I will allow myself to feel like one of those tall, lithe, cheetah-people that run marathons in like five minutes, as I plod along the beach basking in its lovely friendliness.
Below are a few scenes snapped while pretending to check my running time on my phone. It’s high tide and the sun was setting. Enjoy.
Nightly football game:
Kids playing in the waves and hamming it up:
Tree, precariously close to eroding into the ocean but hanging in there:
All photos by author, and appear as they were taken. That is to say, un-Instagramed.