In the gym...

I am sure that for many of you, Somaliland manifests itself primarely through camels, khat and sand. Now, to some extend I might actually have triggered this image through my countless accounts and pictures of camels, goats, dust and rust. Sorry about that.

So please see this message as a serious attempt to bring some more funk into the monotonous impression of Somaliland I might have passed on to you previously.

Since joining Caritas some five months ago, I eavesdropped conversations between my local (female) colleagues about their intentions to loose weight (majority of Somalilands women are build "strong", as I would call it in German). These serious and less serious attempts include things like skipping lunch, downloading exercises from the internet, walking from home to the office and, drinking only five cups of sweet tea each day instead of six, and last but not least - going to the GYM! So after eavesdropping long enough, I decided to try it out myself. Not so much skipping lunch or drinking less of the sweet tea, but inspecting a gym from inside. After all, what is there to loose? Weight? Maybe - maybe not. There was defenitely more to gain in it: bizarre stories for my grandchildren, should I ever have some... ;-) Now, the gym we went to was fortunately not the "smallest gym in the world (see previous post), and neither did we have to "build our bodies"; rather, there was plenty of opportunity to engage in some serious body building.

The fun started out on a pretty "low profile". From outside, the gym was just a simple house in one of Hargeisas backyard streets. Kids who played around in the street peeked cautiously at me while I entered the house; as if they would have never have seen a white woman in a red jogging suit before... Hm, actually, they might indeed have never seen a white woman before... Maybe also not a woman in trousers...

Once inside the gym, I was immediately embraced by a warm, humid and stuffy air as well as the voice of Juanes, one of these cheese love and sorrow singers from Latin America. Overwhelmed by air and sound, it took me some time to fully seize the room and the girls who already jumped energetically to the rythms from the blaster. The equipment, I must admit, was rather un-impressive: a bike, some weights, and some other unidentificable equipment. One of the other girls looked at me curiously and then asked blantly: "why are you here? You're not fat!" Oh, thanks!

Shortly after getting rid of my scarf and my shoes - its a no shoe gym - I started imitating my colleagues who were already running zigzag between the equipment. Not bumping into any of the machines and/ or colleagues in this narrow room was a major challenge.

After this challenge, the real challange started: FAT BURNING! The instructors work was basically to switch on the TV and to insert a videotape with aerobic from the eighties. Suddenly, I felt Europe (and my childhood) as close as never before here in Hargeisa: a perfectly shaped woman, with perfectly bleached and arranged hair, not to forget about the make up and the shrill combination of tight turquois trousers and a even tighter pink top smiled towards us from the screen. Looking around in the room, I couldnt really find an equivalent. Decent coloured and slabby cloths, a little bit of fat on the hips, and far less smiling - thats how I would describe the bunch of determined girls on the other side of the TV. But the lady in pink did not allow much time for self criticism. With an even brighter smile she welcomed us to this edition of fat burning, and the only thought in my mind was - why on earth do I try to burn fat in Somaliland? Arent there other things to worry about? But again, no time for further elaboration of thoughts; the lady in pink started jumping around from one leg to the other like somebody who hadn't peed for a whole day, and encouraged us to coordinate at the same time the arms - my god, our group was a disaster! Nobody (including me) really understood in which direction to move, with which leg, which arm, not to forget about the smile... We would have been kicked out of any aerobic class everywhere else in the world... :-)

One hour and seven steps of fat burning later the lady in pink was still smiling, while majority of us just grasped for air. But again, the fun was not over yet - situps, weight lifting and rope skipping formed the second part of the two hours training! Why do we torture us that much? Not that it would increase the love of others, at least... And yet I liked it.

No, I think the reason why I liked this afternoon in the gym was that I suddenly felt so - normal! No veil that seperated me from the other women, no long skirts, just trousers and Tshirts. And one common goal: loosing weight... There are defenitely moments in life when I simply can't else than believe in the similarity between human beings, regardless of nationality, age, language and whatever else is there to divide us.