Hashing

No Mum and Dad, I'm not on drugs. I am, however, midly tipsy. Why? Because I just got back from my first jog in Malawi and was then kindly forced to down 3 beers.

The HASH club is a group of people who get together and jog in the city of Blantyre. A different person organises it every week, marking a flour/chalk trail which we then follow. When you reach a crossing, the group divides and tries to find the path with 3 white marks. Once these have been found you shout "On and On!" so that the people who have jogged onto the wrong path turn round and follow you. Does that make sense? I hope it does, because it was great fun.

Great fun but extremely tiring. I was not used to jogging in this altitude and under this sun. Not to mention that the last time I found the energy to exercise was about 2 months ago. But I survived, and we then gathered round in the hosts house and socialised a bit. I was offered a first beer, forced to drink the second one because I was new to the group and had the pleasure to chug down a third one because I was lame enough to stretch after the jog. Silly me. They were quite surprised at how well I handled those beers, so I explained "It's ok, the English taught me how to drink".