lie on my table four objects of this past December I have not had time to put in the box of memories: a ticket to a concert, a trip to North America, the back of a runner in a race Ethiopian Christmas and a ticket to access an empty football field.
Today I want to tell the story of Ethiopian runner back. Traditionally the big men of my family to participate on the day after Christmas in the "Race of the turkey" (the "Class of gall Dindi") in the land of fog. It is a matter of pride that win the most traditional names of the people, in their balconies look for weeks the laurel wreath of victory.
Manel's my great-grandfather ran in the edition of 1890, with seventeen years, his baggy trousers and slicked his mustache, running in the penultimate position.
Manel The grandfather ran in the edition of 1920, eighteen years his pants and his balding despite his young age, leaving at the end of qualifying. The
my father did in the 1950 edition, with seventeen years, his shorts, which seemed classics underwear and side parted, leaving more beyond the number thirty on the goal line. The
I did in the 1978 edition, with fourteen years, the first year it was called "Memorial Culleré Josep Ignasi. I remember wearing a blue team. And that, in the line of the square, where was the bulk of the spectators, I went a little child would be six or seven years. Of course they were one-tenth of the course, and I ran tired after ten miles. But it still startled me awake some nights with that laughter of the rostrum to the unexpected passing. Then we ran together all categories, not like now.
This year my brother made. It was the great white hope to win one of our family after more than one hundred years of competition without results. The prize was a laurel wreath and a live turkey that Mrs. Sophie, my mother, watched with reluctance, because the animal with feathers and feet of height would not come into his garden to eat your geraniums. So all fingers crossed for him to win except her. Sergeant Hayden had trained for six months, running every morning in Barcelona's Sagrada Familia Palau Reial. Ten-kilometer round trip to six in the morning. Now with powerful warm tight black pants and dark shirt marking his pecs. Started the race. In the first steps in goal was among the highlights. We encourage you calling her name. Then as it cost us to see appear in the curve after the first twenty classified. He finished last, and was a disappointment for everyone, as I had been in 1978.
Hayden then participated in the small junior class. Have long made sport: basketball, swimming, circus, hockey ... It is stringy and looks of an athlete. If you win, your prize was a laurel wreath and a partridge alive, instead of a turkey. But my mother, Mrs. Sophia, was wrinkling his nose at the possibility that the live animal into the house. After the failure of Sergeant Hayden, we high hopes for the little Hayden. He did what he could, but just the last, after blue-eyed friend Joana. Only
was the little Pharaoh Nil to participate in this race we have lost great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, uncles and children. It was in the category of less than five years. They ran a line a hundred yards. The little king, unlike his father who jogs six miles every morning and his brother who's always doing physical activities, just move the couch watching cartoons. So we stayed to see his career out of commitment, thinking to prepare for the next year, with no hope in this black chubby smile white. That morning we pushed to the starting line to run, and we were there. He looked lethargic, and we were betting no one euro cent for it.
gave the starting signal and began to stride, dressed in street, thinking more in return to see SpongeBob on TV that run. But the race left him naturally, as if it were part of his nature Ethiopia. Banc de Sabadell Waterfront was the last. Faced with the optical shop and had won seats. And at the Cafe Brazil gave a sprint, overtaking all and raised his arms in victory.
had won a race for our family for the first time in more than one hundred years, even in P-5, but had not been prepared, although genetically not of ours. Mrs. Sofia breath for small quiet because there was a live animal as a prize, looking at his grandson Africa.
returned home down the street bookshops. Sergeant Hayden Nil pharaoh wore the little horse on his shoulders. I tore the back of his back, which would have invariably ended up in the trash. I kept it for their future. We were one degree Celsius in temperature. We expect the warmth of home and a plate of cannelloni in the oven with which to celebrate that we were champions. I left the balcony and hung proudly in his laurel crown. After more than a hundred years.
was the happiest moment of my Christmas.
PS: Em are two posts per fer, zinc dels vaig Prometra. Els seeking penjaré quan els Reis tourniquet to the boira terra. I hope that molts Tingueu Regals.
0 comments:
Post a Comment