From A Fort Under The Oiti Tree

It’s overcast and chilly; an oxymoron to what one probably thinks of in East Central Africa.  I have on a T-shirt, long sleeve, and hoodie sweatshirt.  Still, I wouldn’t mind a fleece beanie to replace the baseball cap I’m wearing; to cover my head and stay warm.  I can hear the bells of the lead goats and the occasional voices of the herders off in the distance.  The laughter from playing children can be heard from the closest boma somewhere to the North.  They speak Maa; the language of the Maasai.

Very small birds flit and flutter around me; some very close.  And yet, they are much faster than my own reflexes and the time I would need to raise my camera and capture them in a photo as they go about their business.  I wonder what they are saying to each other.  Are they sharing information about their food sources?  Are they staking claim to their territory?  Or are they simply going about their day, and greeting each other when in close proximity? Regardless, they are receptive to my presence and for that I am both grateful and blessed.

I’m wedged into the base of a small shrub-like tree called the oiti in the local, native tongue.  It’s the kind of tree that would have been fun to play under as a child for its bowed branches form a canopy around its basin.  Its shape creates what I would have considered a fort; a place where my young eyes could peer out, my imaginative mind could dream, and where I could revisit time and again.  I might have come with a book to read, a snack to eat, or a board to place between the two main trunks and create a bench seat.  Instead I am holding my journal against my knee while writing thoughts into words.  Most would say that the way I’m sitting looks uncomfortable, and although they wouldn’t be far from the truth, I’m making it work.  Besides, if I had brought that small scrap board I might not leave, or in the very least, I might elect to stay hunkered down for a longer chunk of time.

My View As I Peer Out From Under
The Branches Of The Oiti Tree

The herders are getting closer.  Wouldn’t they be surprised if they wander by my hiding spot and become startled at my presence; wondering what I’m up to with my camera, journal, and wooden pencil?  I think they will pass by in the distance, however, as it’s about time for them to guide the goats back to the protective confines of their thorny enclosure beside that of the donkeys.

Thirty to forty feet above the shrub in which I sit towers an acacia tree.  After the rainy season, the leafed out branches from both will provide shade and coolness from the heat that will surely follow.  For now it is my base camp this particular afternoon.

The Oiti On The Left And
The Acacia On The Right

Eight years ago I sat close to this very spot; here on the opposite side of the Earth from where I live.  At that time I also wrote in a journal without any idea or concept that I would ever return; this land where my son and his family now reside.  When here first, I marked the occasion by stacking a few precious rocks against the base of the taller acacia.  In time those rocks have scattered, but today I’ve again gathered up what I could find, added some others, and placed them against the base of both the acacia and the oiti.  The rocks are the multifaceted remnants scattered across this vast Kajiado Region - once spewed from Kilimanjaro itself long, long ago.  In the grand scheme they hold no meaning, but to me, piled rocks are sacred.  Such a thing is unobtrusive, and to anyone walking by, they will surely go unnoticed.  But I’ll know they are here supporting the tree from erosion; protecting what has been here longer than most.  I know other places like this, in out of the way spots, scattered across North America and now Africa as well.  I like to picture the rocks I’ve piled back home providing habitat for chipmunks, crickets, and garter snakes.  Here they become home to large beetles, scorpions, and perhaps a lookout post for the orkabobo ground squirrel that’s wont to check for danger.

Rocks At The Base Of The Acacia

Rocks At The Base Of The Oiti

As dusk’s dim light ebbs under layered clouds, and dinner looms in the near future, I finish my writing and stick some random feathers from a guinea and unknown raptor into the crevices of the tree bark.  It’s not so much for me, like a flag thrust into moon dust to stake a claim, as it is for the feather itself.  Now it can dance with the breezes as a tribute to the noble species who lost it in molt; prolonging if just for a little while its eventual decay into the earth from which it came.

A Guinea Fowl Feather

Until next time hidden fort in the oiti tree, may you be blessed with adequate sunlight, ample water, and just the right amount of nourishment that allows you to continue to grow strong and upright in symbiotic unity with the nearby acacia.  May you provide shelter and food to the living things around you, while bringing stability to the soil that so desperately needs to be anchored against erosion.  Next time I promise to bring that small board with the notches that allows it to gently wedge within your branches.  I will sit longer, listen intently, and learn more of your story; that tale that tells of your present purpose and how you came to be.  I look forward to that time we’ll spend together as I peer out from under your fort like branches.

See you along The Way…

At The Base Of The Black Mountain
On Kijani Farm in Kenya, Africa.

Forty Feet Behind The Tree I Sat In
I Found This Massive Hole...
Big Enough That I Could Have Crawled Into It!
(I'd Like To Believe It belonged To A Warthog
As Opposed To The Hyena : )

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Picture From 2017 Below:

The Same Trees And Area.

Billowing Kenyan Curtains

The curtains billow with the morning breezes; the same breezes created by the rising sun.  These Kenyan textiles have been hung to cover the wrought iron windows and uniform muntins.  Black welded metal, perhaps otherwise cold and unyielding, are made soft by the alabaster walls and interior screens which allow a myriad of sounds to enter the home.

The timbre of birds reestablish their position and territories after a dark night.  Birds unfamiliar to my ears are yet comforting and wonderful in their consistency and patterned chirps, trills, and coos.  So many different species; unique in size, plumage, and shape.  Their feather coloration is not unlike the brightly colored cloth of the window drapes - still pulsating from the cool air as sails that hang from the mast of a ship.  The coolness, a contradiction to what one often thinks regarding the bush of Africa.

White Bellied Go-Away-Bird

D'Arnaud's Barbet

Von der Decken's Hornbill

Red And Yellow Barbet

Those bright colors of the flowing shuka tapestry are patterned, striped, and checkered with vibrant, vivid colors so traditional of the Maasai.  A tradition fashioned in pride and bound by community.  The colors speak for themselves when used as a shawl, sash, or body covering of some sort.  Colors become the voice.  And so as curtains, the cloth is perfect; flowing movement with a deep, rich meaning that provides shade as well as loving hospitality.

Goats head out to browse on what they can find.  Their bleating and baaing mingle with the clanging of bells tied to collars buckled around a couple of the does.  Bells allow the herder to locate them in the thick, thorny brush.  Protection comes through proximity and strength in numbers.  The Kijani herd is now at 36 plus some baby kids only a couple of days old.  The donkeys used to pull carts, and deliver fresh water to those who are unable to come collect it themselves, bray loudly over and over like a necessary alarm clock you would rather not hear.  They do not want to be left behind and only wish to join the goats on their foraging venture.  Hens cluck amidst the crowing roosters to round out the morning ruckus - a soothing symphony for an early riser.  And for the once upon a time farm boy, the chorus of domestic animal sounds sifting through the mesh screens of the open windows are themselves a pleasant wake-up call.

As the sun rises in the east, or sets in the west, the light shines through the windows.  To keep it cool, the curtains are often drawn, allowing the cement floor to comfort one's feet.  Here in Southern Kenya, so near the equator, daylight and nighttime are split 50/50 almost year ‘round.  The sunrise and sunset settles in around 6:30 AM and PM - each receiving their allotted 12 hour cycle.  Dusk and dawn barely exist once the sun dips or rises over the distant mountains on the horizon.  Through the windows we passively mark time.

Sunrise

Sunset

The windows work inversely as well; sending sounds to the outdoors.  Depending on whether the sun’s rays fall directly on the roof or are shielded by clouds, the solar powered inverter in the corner closet speeds up or slows down accordingly.  Although white noise, you can hear it in the background.  Grandson plays on his mat in the corner; now reaching his hands to grab at the suspended mobile; presently favoring his left as a southpaw.  His coos and screeching sounds of glee mix with occasional cries; communications of desire, sleepiness, and contentment.  Farm workers passing by smile knowingly at his declarations, while superb starlings tilt their head slightly in wonder.  All the while the curtains billow.

Superb Starling

At night, not as far off into the distance as one might think or hope, comes the drawn out whoop of a hyena - often followed by barking dogs from a neighboring boma; ever alert and on guard.  It’s an otherwise gentle reminder of just where we lie our heads to sleep.  Squeaking bats, in constant audible communication, catch insects on the wing as they fly with erratic precision.  Sporadic gusts catch the open windows and shake them so the metal clanks and rattles.  It is a by-product of the present dry season, as eventually those same winds will usher in Kenya’s second season with rain.

Moonlight Through The Muntins

But for now the curtains billow with the morning breezes; the same breezes created by the rising sun.  These Kenyan textiles have been hung to cover the wrought iron windows and uniform muntins.  Black welded metal, perhaps otherwise cold and unyielding, are made soft by the alabaster walls and interior screens which allow a myriad of sounds to enter the home.

See you along The Way…

Catching A Tiger By The Tail

I’m almost there.  Again.  I’ve been a part of it since the beginning; the inaugural year being 2018.  For that reason I love it.  Well, actually I love it for a lot of different reasons, but consistency is probably a key point; being a bit of a traditionalist.

Of all things it’s a trail race.  A running race through prairies, oak savannas, and forests; often stretched along seemingly endless ridges with amazing views, or down through dark ravines under the canopy of hardwood trees.  I stumbled upon the brochure for this race while at the Runner’s Image shoe store in Rockford.  The rest, as they say, is history!

The Early Morning Drive To The Race.
A Sunrise Over The Rock River.

But this race is much more than beautiful vistas and overlooks of the Rock River Valley.  The Tiger 10 Miler Trail Race is held in the Byron Forest Preserve; across the river from the small town by that same name.  The race is both heavenly and hellish, depending on your training and where you are on the course route.  Although advertised as 10 miles, if I remember correctly, it’s technically 10.1 if you care, or like to keep track of such things.  More importantly, the race director makes no apologies about the fact that if there’s a hill nearby - and there’s no end of those - you’re going to be running up it!  It’s a testament to the race that it’s been held for 8 straight years; including the year of the pandemic when most things were being canceled.  The evidence is in the runners who sign up again and again, in addition to newbies who want to be a part of it all.  And although the colors of the restored tall grass prairie along the course are spectacular, make no mistake that the steep sloped hills don’t care, and will take any opportunity to kick your butt when you least expect it!

While running the race, you find your inner voice battling back and forth within your conscience about how tough it is as you gasp for breath, all while marveling at how the Forest Preserve District has managed to reclaim vast acres of old farmland.  The thin layer of soil is held tight once again as the roots of indian grass, big bluestem, compass plant, and cone flowers grip the dolomite limestone just below the surface.  Occasionally the rock peaks through worn sections of dirt to remind you of its presence.  Of course many other species of plants are found in the preserve too, but it’s hard to notice every one of them while racing by; it’s enough to know they’re there as they give you the feeling of running within a grassy canyon.  The only thing missing are the bison I guess and the thunder they produce; pounding hooves shaking the earth.  Instead there’s the sound of runners and whatever shoes they’ve tied to their feet.

I’ve run countless road races; a few that are my favorites.  I’ve run a plethora of half marathons, 25 K’s, and marathons; having specific favorites there as well.  I’ve even ventured several times into the realm of ultra marathons, and enjoyed each one of those because of their location and the courage it took to prepare.  But the Tiger 10 Miler is hands down one of my favorites of any kind of race; easily in my top 5 if you’re into such things - which I’m not.  I just know that I still love to run and train at this point in my life.  And why not while I still can?  I figure that if I’m going to train, then I might as well make it worth my time with weekly long runs; the precursor being intermediate distances that are laced with hills, intervals, or a slow slog at a steady pace.

That mentality and training is the foundation of what I lean into for the Tiger 10 Miler.  I like to put my best foot forward, so to speak, for this particular race.  It’s the least I can do for such a worthy route.  I'd say for such a worthy adversary or foe, but like those who connect with the natural land, the Tiger 10 is not something that needs to be conquered or subdued.  It’s not even something that needs to be endured.  The race itself is difficult enough; when you’re pushing hard and tackling the hills.  And while you might find yourself questioning life choices in the midst of the run, it’s hard not to marvel at what it took to get there and what you’re in the middle of at the moment.  More than once I’ve told people, “It’s the race you love to hate…with the balance tipping more on the side of love!”  After running it once, you’ll most likely sign up to run it again the following year.

My training for this year’s race has been a little more unique than usual.  Back in July I ran the Dances With Dirt-Devil’s Lake half marathon.  It was slick from recent rains in addition to being technical and challenging, but I did well, and loved the steep climbs and plummeting descents on the single track trail.

In August I ran a lot with my son Todd in Kenya, Africa.  The elevation where my wife and I live is around 750 feet above sea level.  In Africa Todd and I ran at 4,500 feet!  Although it’s been a few weeks since my shoes were dusted in Africa’s red dirt, I’m hoping that experience strengthened my lungs.  It surely strengthened my understanding of the community surrounding Kijani Farm where my son Todd and his family live.  One of the goals he’s running for has been labeled, “20 for 20 on 20.”  He’s running 20 kilometers for $20,000 on September 20th; timing his run for the afternoon on the flip-side of the Earth so we’ll be roughly running at the same time - with an 8 hour difference.  As I run the prairied hills of the Tiger 10 Miler in Byron, Illinois, he and many of his friends from the Maasai community will be running the dirt roads and trails at the base of the Black Mountain.

Todd, Richard, And Me The Black Mountain In The Background.

They’re running to raise money for a local primary school (named Enchoro).  Right now the students from that school find themselves in an old, ramshackled building or outside under a big acacia tree.  The Kijani Farm work crew is steadily raising the new school structure, from the foundation on up, using hand bent re-bar, cement, and welded metal.  Their craftsmanship is next to amazing!  The new school will be something that termites can’t destroy, with windows that allow light for students to see while working and learning.  Check out the 2:36 video that explains the purpose of Todd’s run, in addition to an attached link in the video’s description: Todd's 20K For 20K.

The Present Enchoro Primary School
And Outside Classroom Under The Tree

Frank Bending Re-bar That Will Be
Set In Cement For The School's Foundation

That area of southern Kenya is such an interesting blend of natural beauty and basic needs.  A kinder and more gracious community of people you’ll be hard pressed to find.  At the same time, while running together last month, Todd and I saw impalas, monkeys, guinea fowl, three species of gazelles, zebras, and ostriches.  In addition, while running on his own last week, Todd had to stop for a pair of giraffes.  Welcome to Africa!  Todd’s run will be an interesting comparison of similarities and differences to the race and route of the Tiger 10 Miler.  If nothing else, I’ll surely be running this year’s race with a different mindset and perspective.

Each year I’ve run the Tiger 10 with friends; often after I’ve talked it up to them - many of them being former students as well.  While we have each run our own race over the years, we all meet up afterwards for a group picture, catch our breath, and then head to the after race party at the Hairy Cow Brewing Company.  It’s one of the best awards ceremonies I’ve been a part of, as almost everyone comes away with a door prize of some sort.  And if you miss out on an age group award, there’s the camaraderie of fellow runners, and the delicious after race pizza provided by the Hairy Cow kitchen.  It’s a perfect way to finish the morning as you sit under the awning on the giant deck overlooking the Rock River.

So I’m on the brink of Byron, Illinois’ Tiger 10 Miler Trail Race.  It’s a chance to set an annual benchmark for myself within one of trail running’s best courses.  I’d say I’m running to try to catch a tiger by the tail, but that probably hints at the race being unexpectedly difficult.  And while the race is indeed tough throughout its entire 10 miles, I know what I’m getting into and I want to run it anyway!  “Why?” you ask.  Because it’s beautiful, challenging, and a race I simply can't wait to run each September!

See you along The Way…

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A PICTURE GALLERY THROUGHOUT THE YEARS

Inaugural 2018

Louie, Me, And Former Student Zach

Total Time 1:22:10 - 8:12 Average

2019

Stretching & Warm-up Area With The Rising Sun

Doug, Justin B, Amy, Andy, And Me

Total Time 1:19:33 - 7:57 Average

2020

Me, (And Two Former Students) Sean & Amy.
We're Spaced Apart Due To The Covid Pandemic
But at Least We Were Able To Run!

Total Time 1:18:28 - 7:51 Average

In 2020 The After Party Was On-line.
My Wife Cindy & I Sat On The Back Deck
And Watched It While Making S'mores.

2021

Andy, Me, Justin K, Allison, And Amy

Total Time 1:20:55 - 8:06 Average

2022

I Got My 5 Year Award!

Allison, Amy, Andy, Me, And Justin B.

Total Time 1:24:06 - 8:25 Average

2023

Due to what would be later diagnosed as Lyme Disease (in addition to a minor injury), I had to bow out of 2023's race. It almost killed me (missing out on not being able to run the Tiger 10). BUT, because I had already signed up, I got the shirt, and when I was able to run again, I wore the '23 Tiger shirt for the Abominable 5K trail race that I ran in November with my son Todd. The race director, Chris Remhof, was there too, so I showed him that I was still spreading the love for the Tiger a couple of months removed.

Me & My Son Todd On A Freezing Cold Morning

2023 - I'm Back!

The two sisters & my former students
Allison, Amy, And Me

Total Time 1:28:58 - 8:48 Average

2025

A Practice Run On The Course
Before The Tiger 10 Miler
Allison, Me, Joe, And Louie

Post-Race:
Allison, Me, Louie, Brian, And Joe