Lunch time in Kenya

I ignored my friends from Sydney sitting in the shaded grandstand where we had been doing rugby clinics all day. Instead I walked to a rare square of shade next to the tin equipment shed where some local kids were sitting. Eagerly devouring the basic lunch we had provided, giving the sad impression that they weren’t used to these things.
I walked over because I was only in Kenya for twelve days after all. I had the rest of my life to make dry jokes about all my ‘jock’ friend’s insecurities over lunch. I wanted to squeeze every last drop of juice I could get out of Nairobi, which for now meant seeing what these kids had to say.
As I returned their genuine smiles I asked “can I sit here guys?” Which lead to them giggle and drum their food stained hands on the ground, inviting me to sit. I nestled myself between the closest two children, two short haired dark skinned boys who appeared to be totally oblivious and unaffected by the blistering white sun burning above them. The sun had my sunscreen, and my sweat working in unison to make the skin on my arms resemble the slimy texture of perhaps an African Sandveld lizard.
I introduced myself and tried embarrassingly to try to pronounce their exotic African names. Whilst watching me eat, all of them edged their bottoms closer towards me, and curiously begun rubbing my slippery arms, paying attention to my bicep muscles. “So slimy” one of them said to his friend, before the apparent leader of the group asked me “Scotty, how do we get big?”
This beautifully ego boosting question had me immediately thinking about just what exercise equipment these impoverished children from the Kibera slum would have available to them. So I picked up the nearest two bricks lying near the shed, and proceeded to perform some ‘front brick raises’ for the anterior deltoid muscle. The children soon followed, amongst many cheerful grunts if slight displeasure, before we moved on to the ‘brick lateral raise’ for the rotator cuffs, which brought on a similar response. In unison they stood beside the shed, wearing the matching green t-shirts we had donated them. Like a perfectly regimented army they stood in a line, two bricks in each of their hands, repeating every exercise I showed them. I was continuously receiving long stares to my eyes and wondering why. I eventually realised they were admiring their reflections in my sunglass lenses, mirrors would certainly be an unnecessary luxury in a slum without electricity or running water.
So when I’d taught them the ‘plank’ for their abdominal muscles, I said “whoever holds this the longest, gets my sunglasses!”
I joined them as we put each other through excruciating pain to see who won this wonderfully advanced prize, one tough kid holding it off just longer than his mate, and deservingly winning the black wayfarers which looked a lot better on him than they did on me. As the bus left the ground and we made our way back to the lodge I thought about what a beautiful moment I had just enjoyed, by simply not eating lunch with my best friends for once, whilst pleased to know that these lovely chaps will take in this ‘Tribal urges brick hypertrophy training’ to their daily routines well and truly, and will resemble miniature versions of Tyson Beckford in no time.