Running “for fun”, enjoying the view, skinniness, one kid, and other trends in transition

It’s strange being in a country that is developing very quickly. Things that are trendy in developed countries – like running for fun, trying to be skinny, having only one or two kids – are clearly popular among some people, especially those from Kigali, and unheard of among others. Well, not unheard of, and that’s the point – they are things people know about and like or know about and don’t really like, depending on, partly, from what I gather, if you live in a rural area and how much money you have. This creates an uneasy curiosity on the side of the people who have not yet started running for fun (is running ever fun?), or having fewer kids, or trying to be skinny. These people know the word “sport” and they know what a runway model looks like and the ideal city folk are trying to imitate. They just think it’s funny.

At “family time” (when all of our adopted families meet) one of the kids – they are teenagers so I don’t know if that counts as kids – was trying on a tiny backpack. One of the other kids said, “you are big.” The girl modeling the backpack immediately asked me, “how can I lose weight?” I don’t know if the first girl thought the comment “you are big” was especially mean. The girl who asked me how to lose weight has flawless English and she absolutely loves romance novels, so we have a lot to chat about. I had given her The English Patient for her birthday. I didn’t know how to answer her question, so I gave that answer that adults always give to high-schoolers to make sure they do not become anorexic: “um, you look find, but just eat lots of healthy food, like vegetables.” “I don’t like vegetables,” she answered. That answer made sense from both a human perspective – does anyone really like vegetables? I mean, I like vegetables, but I like chocolate more – and also from a Rwandan perspective, as veggies here are cooked and drowned in sauce to the point where they are not really vegetables. “Well, get lots of exercise” I mumbled, hoping we could return to the subject of romance novels.

So far, I’ve heard three different people make the passing comment, “you are big” to people who did not want to be big. I asked one such honest person, “is it good to be big in Rwanda?” “No,” she answered, “It isn’t.” She was a city girl, from Kigali, who liked to go running. For fun. Apparently, not being big is already a trend that is spreading, as food security is rising, yet stopping one’s self from mentioning that a person is big has not yet caught on, including from people who do not think being big is a good thing. I thought this was interesting. Rwanda is not a country where people are especially blunt and forward and don’t filter – after Israel, no country is quite as blunt. But people still mention other people’s weight, as a passing comment, even when this weight is something that is not considered attractive. I imagine that, if food security continues to rise, and if the economy continues to improve, eventually people think twice before mentioning other people’s weight.

And then there’s running. In Kigali, I sometimes see someone running. In Rubona I never do, until I saw Agahozo Shalom students, trying out for one of the sports teams, dash out the front gate onto the sandy road leading to Rubona’s village center. It was all boys. “Aren’t there girls who run?” the secretary at the school asked me a few weeks ago, as we were making tea. There are some girls who run, I’ve seen them running around Agahozo-Shalom, but there are more boys who run. I mean, outside of ASYV people run, but it’s to catch up with a friend, or to catch up with me, or to run away from police who want to arrest them for selling veggies without prior authorization.

People never run to catch a bus. Here’s how the bus system works: Buses go from station to station, and wait until the bus is completely filled up, so that there is never a moment on the road where there is centimeter of space along the seats. So you never need to run to catch it, because it’s always waiting for you.

And taking a walk to enjoy the view and nature – that’s sort of weird here. A bit developed-countryish, maybe. I think. At least if you are from a rural area with an absolute stunning view. I just cannot put myself in their shoes – I cannot imagine that the view I see when I go outside is the view that they have seen their entire lives. You walk down the road, and there are mountains with fifty different shades of green, and massive sunflowers shadowed by perfect palm trees filled with birds the color of florescent high-lighters. I saw one tiny bird that was bright, bright, absurdly florescent orange. And then a lake in the distance. And, at times, a double rainbow reflected off the lake and the fifty shades of green. And a light brown path which weaves in and out of the dark, medium, turquoise, and yellow patches along the mountains, which are the fields for farming that don’t generate that much food, but look really, really amazing. And I’m asked why I’m walking, and I understand why I’m asked that, because this view does not generate so much food, so better to save one’s energy, unless one has a good reason to be using any energy and so needs to walk But I look at these people who ask me, “where are you going?” “Why are you going by foot?” “Why don’t you take a bike, or ride on the back of my bike?” “Do you want me to call a moto-taxi?” And then I look at this view. And I want to laugh. It is perfection in its perfection. Except for the limited food and education thing. But physically, wow.

Sometimes, English teachers run after me. They see I am white, and are eager to practice their English. One once said, “You are here to see the view, right?” understanding that I saw the area different than the way he saw it, in terms of how unique it was. I answered, “yes!” relieved that someone understood this. He said, “yes, we have a lot of nature” and pointed to some ferns and flowers. And I wanted to say, “I have seen nature, and ‘nature’ is an understatement. This is better than any postcard I have ever seen” but thought the ‘postcard’ reference might not translate.

Today, a woman laughed at me walking up the hill with my backpack. She put her arms up as if to make a muscle, the way wrestlers do when they want to show off their muscles, and she smiled and said something in Kinyarwanda that had the words “feet” in it and “walking.” I think she got the whole exercise thing. She was older, and traditionally dressed, so I was surprised. But trends spread fast here.