I've just arrived back from a short jog around a 2 mile loop in my home town of Aylesbury in England, nothing too unusual about that, other than the fact that this was the first real exercise that I have been able to do since slipping a disc in my lower back way back in March.
Having been sporty as a youth and continuing that into my early 40's with weekly outings onto the football or cricket pitches I had somewhat lost some 'shape' during the years we spent at the project we set up in Grabouw, however last year, encouraged by my crazy sister and brother in law, I started to jog and found that to be a source of focus and even peace.
So after arriving back in England yesterday morning from a six month stint sharing with some of the most vulnerable people on the planet I was keen to get to 'test' the back, not going for any sort of pace but wanting to know if things felt right both with my body and also inside my head!
The route wasn't as scenic as the apple orchards and vineyards surrounded by majestic mountains like South Africa, or as hot and humid like I'd experienced on the east coast of tropical Madagascar when I last ran there in October last year, but as my less than fit legs got the hang of moving slightly quicker than a sloth, which had become their norm, I experienced things that I had become so accustomed to that I had missed them up until this point.
I don't want this to become such a protracted post that you stop reading and leave to do something much more productive with your time, but if you will forgive me I am going to take the next few paragraphs to get these thoughts out of my head and onto this virtual page.
Turning right past the papershop, not literally a shop made out of paper but one which sells the daily newspapers that I used to deliver on my 'round' during my teenage years, I ran over the railway bridge and looked down as a train passed underneath making it's slow, steady and regular way along the well worn tracks towards London. Delivering commuters towards their place of work without a hitch, other than when some light snow blocks the line in the short English winter, every 20 minutes or so day in day out and although it's quite expensive it provides a regular service where one can travel in relative comfort.
I past the old pub, now an Indian restaurant, and opposite a car hire dealer and thought of the opportunity that I could have of hiring a brand new car for a day or two to travel freely around the wide network of tarred roads, clearly signed, dare I say well maintained, sharing the road with the majority of other people obeying to laws set up for the safety and smooth passage to anywhere on this Island Kingdom.
Turning right again the local police station sat with officers at the ready to protect my freedom with fully equipped vehicles designed to keep the peace and curtail any unwanted menace from causing my path to be blocked.
Onward towards a couple of nursing homes providing care for the elderly, again at a cost, but with the basic amenities for those too frail to live on their own. As my heartbeat increased so did the housing estates with tightly packed homes all with running mains water and a stable electricity supply, most I would imagine with access to the world wide web enabling the family to connect to the 'global village'.
The two schools I attended came and went as my pace steadied and although I was out way too early to see the hundreds of children who would be making their way, probably dropped off by mum in the family's second car, to school, I was reminded of the wonderful if somewhat basic education that I received in those buildings many moons before. Teachers with a good understanding of teaching, enough books and materials for each of my fellow classmates and knowing how things have moved on since I was there classrooms now fitted with interactive whiteboards to make learning an even more exciting experience.
I now passed under the railway bridge, on the home run back to my parents home where we enjoyed our first night in real comfort for near on four months. As I turned right again I saw the entrance to the swimming pool and fitness center, home to the paralympics, and thought of the lessons that I had taken as I reluctantly learnt to swim in the 50 meter pool years before.
The local hospital, fully equipped to serve those suffering from major back injury, is staffed by the people who near on 17 years before had saved my life from the multiple pulmonary embolisms which were treated with medication readily available for such unseen circumstances.
Now I was sweating, long gone was the fitness I'd built up over the later part and early part of this year, and there was some spots of rain in the air so although I nearly stopped at the local cooperative store to grab a energy drink I resisted this strange notion knowing I would have been bombarded by shelves full of exotic produce gathered from around the globe. I passed with somewhat of a slight twinkle in my eye with the knowledge that I hadn't been drawn in by the bright lights and colourful advertising.
I was nearly home, still going abet at a much slower pace, and came upon the road works that have been started near the 'papershop', evidence of huge machines operated by men in hard hats and hi viz jackets making repairs to afford smoother passage for the newer cars with lower emissions that even smelt quite pleasant in comparison to the heavy diesel that I had become used to in Antananarivo.
So why all these ramblings, strange thoughts and random paragraphs?
Well just to say that I am thankful to have access to all of the above and think of those that we know and love who don't which makes their lives so much more of a challenge that I can ever know.
'They' (not entity sure who the 'they' are) say that the world is getting smaller and smarter and richer and more productive but I personally know many thousands of people who will never even understand the sights and sounds, the smells and those thoughts that flooded my mind as I ran this morning, let alone experience the benefits that come with living in a first world nation with all of its faults.
In my mind are the railway lines once bringing life and people and goods together in Madagascar but now are left overgrown. Of the police on the street corners or setting up a roadblock looking for a bribe or the school with no windows and doors let alone books and materials, of the poorly educated teachers working for a pittance or less! Of the families drawing water from their hand pump well living together in a tin shack or bamboo hut, with little or no access to medication for the child impacted by the ravages of HIV, TB, Malaria, Typhoid or even Bubonic Plague. Of the street stalls selling their meager locally produced slightly misshapen and oddly coloured and susceptible to inconsistent weather patterns which threaten their production, either devastating cyclones and too much rain or droughts and heat which scorch and destroy.
And I suppose you might say that's life, that's the way it is, and with all that in mind I am still sitting here thinking to myself 'is it'?.......
......and maybe that's for me to square in my head so thanks for reading.
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