Run No. 150 - 24th December 2005 - Report
The hundred and fiftieth Run of the SWANK Hash House Harriers was a true masterpiece from the Grand Master Trevor “R’Hole”, and surprises abounded as promised. No Hare could surpass the split second, timed connections, for each leg of this Hash Run as enjoyed by the pack last Saturday on Christmas Eve.
The Hashmobile, ferried the hashers to the Home Hole, where introductions were made and the rules read, with strict warning to those who would not break them and get caught! There were 15 checks and 3 Holds: all Holds wet to semi wet, very much to the liking of the Hashers. The front runners Susan, as yet un -baptized, Eric B.D. and Thunder thighs from Nairobi, set about their duty of running ahead and missing the marks, leaving the discovery to the slower Sweepers. The trail wound through the dusty tracks and led into the dusky forest at an angle no geometrician would ever own up to. The sultry heat and the incessant shrieking of the baboons high on the tree boughs at the sight of these invaders with the ever faithful Hash Mastiff Bob, led the steaming pack to the only place attractive enough: WATER. And true to the spirit of reverse rules of Hash, at low tide! The pack trundled on the wet sands through the crab pits and coral bits, looking for marks that were still visible and led to the higher grounds at a welcome sweet Watering Hole. No amount of ON-ON could budge the intrepid pack to move without a drink in the true Hash tradition. And once sated, the momentum was regained, once again winding through the amazing contrast that Mtwapa could still spring on the visitors.
The trail took the pack in and out of homesteads with cooking pots spewing dishy aromas, and homed in at the heart of the second wet Hold, the earthy smells mingling with the effervescence of the Nectar from the Gods. But, the trail was lost for sometime as the pack lost the Hare, Hare lost the trail and trail lost the treads of the Hash bicycle!!! Combined efforts of sight, nose and sign language, with much peppering of the sleeping intelligence led everybody to the right table where the white drink awaited the thirsty runners.
A small impromptu circle was held and the offerings tasted with ceremony, much to the amusement of the local revellers.
Emerging out in the open sane-land, the Hashmobile was waiting to ferry those who pretended to be too tired or sozzled to run. There was a nice little drama as Bob, the Hash dog, refused to board the Hashmobile with human hashers and only gave in after much placating from Ruby, his sister-wife in the Dog lingo, even threatening dire consequences for this obvious racism…...
The front runners were in no mood to be slowed down nor towed by this contraption and preferred to run on to the next Hold, the old Ferry Ramp on the western side of the creek. after crossing the infernal traffic .
Having reached there earlier, the rest of the Pack sampled the wet refreshments offered as drinks- to- drink (beers, water) and drinks- to- eat (succulent slices of water-melon), something only Mombasa Hashers could think of, and getting heavier on their southern regions in the process. The Nairobian Thunder thighs was flabbergasted at the sight of the Creek, having only ever seen the pencil thin and slow Nairobi River, and made the remark of the year—“there is too much water in the sea”, and earned a discounted coupon for punishment.
The trail from here was set on the water, another Mombasa First, to be negotiated by swimming or any other means. Not to be outdone, the pack quickly boarded the boat standing there and let loose their imaginations and tongues, in that order. A Hash name was mooted to placate the recycled virgin Susan who was offended that she still did not have one! The trail took the pack down the creek to the landings at the dream place Aquamarine restaurant where Down-Downs awaited them in front of the bluest of blue waters.
A circle was held to baptize the virgin, on authority from the Great Hashman in the Sky. From now on, she would proudly bear the name of Horny Sunset. Punishments were handed down on their knees to Kirti and Koki for treasonable offence of suggesting a punishment for the Grandmaster, to Eric B.D. for running too well and not getting lost and all the others for simply not doing anything punishable!