24 Hour Fitness

I confess, I am a fan of the TV show The Biggest Loser, of which I have watched several seasons. When you watch the show, you see constant advertisements for 24 Hour Fitness. I live in Africa, so I admit that I don’t know if that means that it is open 24 hours a day... that is my assumption.

For those of you who know me, most know that I have been on a weight loss journey of my own. In the past 2 years, I have lost about 70 lbs. It has taken a lot of hard work and diligence – especially in a country where I can get few vegetables on a regular basis, and I can rarely count calories, since I make a lot of casseroles, and a lot of my ingredients are written in some language that I cannot read. . . .

As I fight to keep the weight off, and lose a little more, I have to be very consistent in my exercise. I need to exercise at least 5 days a week. Our closer friends in the village know that I exercise, because if they come in the morning, I often can’t answer the door because I am in the middle of it or, in an emergency, I answer the door all sweaty. I have seen a look of consternation on their faces – trying to figure out why I take the time to do that. It seems absurd to them.

The longer I live here, the more I understand their confusion. No one here in the village has to work to lose weight No one seems to have even a pound of fat on them. For the majority of them, their arms are toned, their stomachs are flat, and their muscles are well- defined. And it is easy to see why. Nearly everything they do requires physical labor. They wash their clothes by hand, pound their rice by hand, cut their rice by hand, plant their crops by hand – see a pattern…. Everything is done by hand. Most places they go are on foot or by bicycle.

My friend Isatu is on a quest to teach me how to be a Yalunka woman.

On my resume so far….

1. Removing beans from the pods by pounding and then fanning away the chaff.

2. Slicing okra to dry in the sun

3. Pounding rice

4. Twisting dead fish into circles…. Recently I learned this valuable skill that I am sure many people DON’T have. There is a certain kind of fish here – most of which are 5 – 9 inches long. Many people here smoke them over a fire and put them in their sauce for their rice. For reasons that no one can explain, when they dry them, they fold the whole, gutted bodies nearly in half, and then jam a side head fin bone thing (probably not the scientific name) into the tail, holding it in place in a semi circle, and then lay them on the grate to smoke. (Let me know if you want me to come to the US and do a seminar for you.)

5. Pounding whole fish into fish balls.

And last week, I went to the farm to learn how to dig up sweet potatoes. By sweet potatoes, I don’t mean the nice, deep yellow ones in the US. I mean the very white and very starchy ones here – of which I am not a big fan. But in the interest of learning something new, I went. The day was hot as the sun was beating down. I met Isatu at the farm where she was working with her 3 little kids. There were long heaps of very dry and very hard ground.

The lesson began.

You take your hoe and you start digging – looking for cracks in the ground to signify that there MIGHT be potatoes there. You might dig a 2 foot by 2 foot area and find nothing. Or you might hit the jackpot (is that possible with sweet potatoes?) and find many. Of course, many times, you end up chopping the potato right in half (at least I did). Isatu was so pleased with my progress that she said I could keep all the ones I dug up. That wasn’t exactly motivational, but I couldn’t stop when I saw how happy she was.

I kept digging and digging. Sweat was pouring off me. I realized again how VERY spoiled most of the world is in regard to food. We don’t give it a second thought and we certainly don’t have to work physically hard for it. My hands were getting sore and I could feel a blister starting to form. She asked how I was doing and was I tired. No – I hedged. I am fine. (Not technically a lie because I was still upright and my hands weren’t bleeding or anything).

At the end of our time, we needed to walk home – a short walk, compared to many who walk several miles home, lugging their goods with them. She gave some stuff to her kids, handed me a small, light plastic pan, and hefted a massive, heavy pan FILLED with sweet potatoes onto her head –at least I helped with that part. Of course, she was able to carry her load with no problem –balancing it perfectly as she walked down the uneven gravel road.

I also (sort of) balanced my pan, though, about every 3 steps, I had to stop and readjust. Not my fault, you see, since apparently my hair is SLIMY – at least that is the word they use for it. (I share that in case you were worried that I might be getting a big head here about my appearance.)

She didn’t have an extra cloth that they twist into a donut to help balance the pans – so it REALLY wasn’t my fault. We marched through town like that. I felt like a toddler – people were clapping and cheering. When I passed Kanko’s hut (my friend who does my dishes), she was very pleased. I told her that the next day, I was going to try and balance a Big, metal open pan of red oil (like liquid gold around here) on my head and walk around. She didn’t seem to feel that was a good next step - not sure why!

It is my short forays into my friend's world that make me incredibly grateful for the relative ease of my life – even in a little village in Africa. It also makes me even more grateful when they share with me – as I realize the time and work that went into growing or making anything. And I am not yet ready to start my own farm. I guess I will have to stick with exercise DVDs at my house – no matter how strange that seems to people.