The beach run – part 2

The beach run – part 2

“Shemeji, ivula yanipiga sana”
“Na lowa sana khu ngulo”
That is what I heard from one of my strange colleagues struggling to shelter under a small umbrella. He was talking on phone, even as five or six of us tried to outmaneuver each other to seek shelter from the cold and heavy rain drops. He was delivered the status report on the going-ons at the bus stop.

To get to into this struggle, my two colleagues and I had left our residence and took a matatu from the Rock to Nakumatt Nyali. We arrived at the supermarket about half past eight, only to be told that they had already closed. This forced us to travel on the next matatu to ‘Lights’, a stage that would lead us to Nakumatt Cinemax. Our very helpful matatu conductor had informed that the next supermarket was quite near.
“Hapo mbele tu. Ni karibu sana,” he had declared as we alighted at Lights. We therefore saw no need to get into another matatu.

When a ‘very near’ walk turned into thirty minutes on the road, we started suspecting that we had stepped on that insect. The one that if you stepped on, then you would loose your way forever. The street were however still relatively busy with people. This encouraged us on. The spirit of adventure also kept us going, to a place that we did not know. The only reason why we did not ask for direction was the fear of asking a jinni such a question. If we made the mistake of doing this, then we would be lured into the ocean for our final swim.

Alas! We saw the big expanse that is the supermarket block, just to the right of the road. Our entry to the compound was marked by some showers. Do not wish for rains at the coast, because when it does rain, then the earth just opens an oven of hot humid air that chokes the nostrils. In the supermarket the airconditioning kept us comfortable, even as the heavy rain could be heard drumming the top of the roof.

Rains
We left the supermarket while it still rained. After a brief shelter outside the block, we decided to run in the rain to the main road to await a matatu. Momentarily the rain had subsided and our wet clothes dried up. If anything, I was already sweating from the heated humid air. A ten minute drive in the matatu got us back to the Lights stage. We were forced to disembark even as it started raining heavily once more. We crossed the busy highway to get to the other side of the road. This would enable us catch another matatu going towards Bamburi. It kept raining even as we crossed the road and run for shelter. The shelter that I could afford was the torn umbrella that was housing six other adults. The rain kept pounding my back while the drip from atop the umbrella fell on my face. To reward our stay, the trader whose umbrella we had invaded informed us that, “Ambrela mtalipa kila mtu shilingi tano.” I thought of telling him the provisions on the 'bill of rights' of our new constitution, that guaranteed shelter to all Kenyans, but kept this thought to myself as I searched my pocket for 5/=. However, the lady must have been feeling sufficiently philanthropic, since she failed to collect when we departed as the rains subsided.

By the time the three of us got a matatu back to the Rock, our once soaked clothes had already dried up. When we narrated our ordeal to our colleagues, they just looked at us and wondered, “What rain? You people are as dry as a Rock!”
Our case was not made any easier by the lack of rains on this part of the city.

I found myself going to bed past mid-night. I had hardly slept the previous night due to the bus mishap, yet I was repeating another late night. For consolation, this seemed like the first time I felt a heated cold during a visit to this ocean-side town. With the air conditioner and fan both turned on, I covered myself and drifted to sleep.

The route
Even as I slept, I was filled with a sense of fulfillment. That is because in the evening during a thirty-minute break amid the seminar sessions, I had moved onto the white sandy beach, bordering the hotel establishment, and walked along the shores. The sand was warm and soft. The beach had lots of revelers. A group of about twenty young children, I guess primary school level, were swimming on the edges of the giant natural pool as a big group. From afar they looked like a collection of leaves floating on the seashore. Walking near my standing position was a foreign lady, I would guess above forty, stepping onto the edges of the water. She had a thin strip of something that looked like cloth on her waist and another on the chest. Am just being polite by saying this. She had surely put dressing to shame. Towing behind her were a couple, probably her children or some relation, in similar dressing. Shock would have registered on me, but I realized in good time that I was going to get used to seeing this type of dressing.

From where I was standing, I could approximate a one hundred meter distance on both directions of the shore. My idea was to organize the run as a circuit between these two extreme measures. The circuit would therefore be a 400m distance. I did not plan for a sprint. I wanted a jogging route or circuit. Something that we could do as a team, without being too tired to enjoy. How to setup the relay points was however proving to be a challenge. I could make a relay at 100m intervals – but this would seemingly be such a short distance that the members would easily sprint instead of the comfortable jog that I had in mind. However, a longer distance would prove a challenge as team members got tired or bored. The cheering and monitoring that I had in mind would not work if the route was too long. I also had to factor in the humidity and heavy air in my planning. The sea breeze at this time was however quite refreshing and was neutralizing the humidity.

I marked my current point with reference to a coconut tree on the hotel fence, and walked one hundred meters to the left of the hotel. The signboard on the shore read “Sarova Whitesands”. I know the feeling of 100m. This is because distance finally inculcates in your system when you become a seasoned runner. Generally, these were one hundred steps. As I stopped at the hundred-meter point, I could see the coconut tree swaying about. It did not look very far nor was the walk a strain. My mind was already made on the relay points. I now had to figure out the team compositions. I would either do the battle of the sexes or the battle of the committees.

Shoes
I was doing a loud piki-piki-ponki, father-had-a-donki, to choose amongst the two battles when I was interrupted.
“You can easily size up a man by the size of his shoes,” my colleague stated as a matter of fact.
We were generally grouped near the hotel perimeter as we enjoyed the last moments of the breeze as we headed back to the seminar room. This observation did not benefit all the menfolk in my team, since some had already left for the seminar.
“What is your authority?,” I asked.
“Many years of experience! And believe me, the truth does not lie.”
“Kweli kabisa,” the other lady colleague confirmed. “When I met my current huby, I knew in advance exactly what I was getting myself into.”
“And what were you getting yourself into?,” I enquired, wondering whether I was ready for this.
“If you sneeze, he’s out!”
“What the….”

While at the seminar room, I absentmindedly drafted the relay map on my notepad, even as the proceedings were going on. The seminar material was being projected on the big screen. Four relay points, one hundred meters apart in a circuit format. That is what I was now crafting on the A5 page. The battle shall however be…. I wondered once more. Meanwhile, I could not help looking at the feet of the men sitting around the three sides of a square-like seating arrangement. My mind wondered to the supermarket visit of the previous night. I had failed to get my size eleven sandals, at which point my colleagues had told me to “nunua size 5 and 6 kama hizi zetu, halafu uunganishe pamoja.”

The run is cancelled
When I woke up a few minutes to eight and later on went for breakfast, an amazing thing had happened. The once white long expanse of sand on the sea shore was non-existent. The ocean waters had risen to almost reach the hotel perimeter. There was hardly any shore to walk on. Were we supposed to run in the water!? How can water be existent one day and not existent the next day at the same place? This particular situation was a contradiction to the principle of contradiction, which states that nothing cannot be and not be at the same time! I momentarily removed my specs, which blurred my view of the ocean, forcing me to put them on again. I was surely not seeing double, nor was I being blinded by some substance consumed last night. The waters had surely engulfed my running circuit and my planned white sand relay was surely off.


On part 3 of the story, to be published next, I tell you of my final attempt to organize the run.

WWB, Nairobi, August 11, 2011