Walking down Khreshchatyk with a steady rain falling to a destination that had been leaked to me didn't call to mind a fox hunt for me. But maybe it's just been a while since I've been on the trail of a fox. No one else seemed particularly concerned about this lack of orthodoxy, so I figured I shouldn't be too critical, either. As was to become apparent later in the day, the most important part of a hash run is not the hunt, but the following party.
The tradition of the hash hails back to 1936, in the remote British posting in Kuala Lumpur. Three officers, who were far from their aristocratic playground, aided by their horses and their yards of English ale, got together to wax sentimental about the motherland. After perhaps one too many pints of ale, they decided to hold a hunt of their own, sans fox. Thus, the hash run was born.
The more humane version of a hunt, which now has a worldwide following, goes something like this: One person, known as the hare, runs a route, circles and doubles back on his trail, leaving markings all the way. A group of harriers then run, walk and amble along the confusing trail in pursuit. Every time they hit an X, it means they're chasing a false lead. Thus, it is not always the fastest harrier who makes it to the end first. In the end, they reach the destination, where they drink massive quantities of beer and sing ridiculous songs.
In Kyiv, they apparently do this every month, but last Sunday was the harriers' sixth anniversary in Kyiv, resulting in a giant crowd of Brits, Yankees and Uks. The miserable weather didn't dampen the revelry. It simply kept the hunt short. The ultimate goal of the hash, getting pissed, was not affected at all. After the mandatory march, which traveled from The Wall at Besarabska to Trukhaniv Island, everyone crowded into a small hut for beer, shashlyk and initiation of the virgins.
There must have been at least 20 virgins, myself included, who where initiated and, in line with tradition, forced to guzzle beer and put empty cups on their heads. All the while, Tom Winters of The Wall led a chorus of British voices in singing rugby songs and heckling us virgins. Despite the diversity of the crowd, it had a very fraternity feel.
Then, we switched huts to listen to perhaps the last public performance of Alex Medina in Speeding Lisa. Instead of mourning, however, every one just slam danced, made merry and did their best to make sure no beer would be left over.
INFORMATION
Hash House Harriers meets every other Sunday at The Wall at 1 p.m.
For more information, call Tom Winters at 235-8045.
