Many Serious Contenders (MSC) 2012 run

Many Serious Contenders (MSC) 2012 run

In January 2012 I joined a new running team – the Many Serious Contenders Informing the Society (MSCIS).  This was a running group trying out the course in the 15th edition of the run.  The two year run was bound to be interesting and different.  I have previously had only one serious running group – the ilrithoners and this group has taught me most of my running skills, running through the hills and valleys of Kabete and its environs.  A new group and a new course were to be a new experience with new lessons.   By some coincidence, I find myself as captain of both teams.  One year has ended and another one is about to start.  I however look back at the run and it has not been easy…

First lap
“You shall soon be talking a lot,” The Deputy Director said with a pause, then continued, “Believe me, it shall not be long”

I knew what he was talking about.  It was quite accidental that I was joining this particular forum on a late Monday evening.  If fate had had it otherwise, I would be doing my evening run back at the hilly and dusty Kapenguria road in Uthiru.  Three days prior, I was at this same faculty, making an enquiry on what had become of my application for studies.  The journey to join these studies however started three years before.  In 2009, I had paid a course application fee of KShs.3,000 and started waiting for a formal admission letter.  Many sent emails later, I was still at home, the year had ended and I had not been admitted.  When 2009 ended, the Director’s Secretary had told me that, “I missed the September intake” because “I did not follow up”.  I was in Christmas spirit at that time, so I let it slip.

Three year wait
In 2010, after many visits to the School of Computing and Informatics, SCI, of the University of Nairobi, UON, I was still at the same place as 2009 – no admission, no communication.  Towards end of 2010, the Secretary told me that I had failed to be admitted because I did not do some two prerequisite courses.  “Just try next year,” she had said with some triumph in her voice.

Taking no more chances, I had started my 2011 journey early.  On the first week of January, I forced my way to the SCI and asked for details of the prerequisite courses and when they would be held.  I was informed that they were scheduled for May 2011.  I was asked to be checking the newspapers for the advert, though I should continue following up.  Subsequently thereafter, I made it a point of visiting the SCI offices monthly to get an update.

“Be ready, the courses start next month.  You can go and pay,” the Secretary informed me during a visit in early-April.
“How many courses do I pay for?”
“Let me see…”, she looked at some documents behind the high barrier that makes the counter that separates her from the visitors.  She failed to get what she was looking for and therefore said, “Let me find out, call me later today”

I just left the office with the slip bearing the UNES bank details at Barclays Westlands and awaited the details of how many multiples of 20k I would have to part with.

On that afternoon, I called the Secretary who confirmed to me that I shall do one course called ‘Programming Methodologies’.
I had already protested this issue of prerequisite courses.  It was partially the reason for the two year delay already.
“You are lucky to be doing only one (course).  Most of the others are doing two, including Data Structures,” she volunteered on phone, to reassure me that I was sailing in better waters.

Prerequisite
Our prerequisite courses began in early May 2011.  Even before the second class, we were advised to countercheck our courses with the Coordinator of MSc courses.  When I visited the coordinator one evening before the evening classes, he asked me to provide my undergraduate transcripts for confirmation.  The next day I was back to his office with the transcripts.

“Let me see,” he started, as he went through the transcripts.  He evidently had gone through many such, since he went straight to some particular entries.
“I see you got Bs and As in the second and third year IT courses,” he commented, partly looking up from his gaze on the papers.
“Sure, I did”
“However, I can see this ‘C’ here,” he pointed out, “in your first year, eh, ‘FEE132 Computer Science II’ course”
“Yes…,” I started.
“You got a C,” he repeated, while completely abandoning the papers.
I started to mutter something like, “I was still young and restless….”
 “That is the C that shall cause you to do a course in Programming Methodologies,” he handed back my five sheets of paper.
As if to console me, he continued, “Be happy that you are only doing one course.  Most are doing two”

The ICS600 PM prerequisite course sessions were quite eventful.  Am tempted to reveal the ‘secrets’ of what went on during the 6-week course that run from May 2 and culminated to the final exam on June 16, but am not saying much now.  Just imagine congregating students of different backgrounds, for evening classes, at Chiromo, for computer programming, with 20k at stake and a lecturer who did not believe that it is possible ‘not to know such simple things’.

Speak out
My thoughts were brought back to the present, when the DD continued with his encouragement of the comrades to speak out.
“I do not know most of you.  In fact I only seem to know this guy with long hair”, he gestured.
“He seems to have been here before”
There were some giggles.
“And I also know this other guy seated in front,” he pointed to where I seated, in front of the classroom dubbed ‘Seminar Room’.  I was on the front row, just next to the table holding the computer and projector, next to the white board.  Opposite us, alighted to the wall, were some faculty members.  He continued, “I know this one because he was in my office today morning,” he informed the rest, as attention focused on me.

After a pause, “But I will get to know all of you with time, starting now,” he momentarily unearthed a list and started calling out names, “This is the list of fifty-five members of this class.  Please lift up your hand if you hear your name”

The visit to his office on the morning of that Monday, January 9, 2012 had been presided by a similar visit to SCI the Friday before, when I visited the Director’s office to find out why I had not got an admission letter, despite having cleared the prerequisite course in June (and getting quite impressive results as per the results confirmed by letter July 4, 2011).  During a previous visit to SCI in August, while expecting the course to start in September 2011, the faculty had confirmed the postponement of the session to January.  By my last visit in early December, the admission letters were not yet out.  My current worry was the failure to receive an admission even when I was aware that the UON would open the next week, as per newspaper ads.

Friday
The Friday visit went something like this – on arrival at the Director’s office, I had asked to speak to the Director, not knowing who else to talk to, so that I could get information on the status of my admission.  The secretary intercepted me, informing me that such verifications could be done at her desk.  She started by some questioning:
“Did you apply?”
“Yes, I even did the prerequisite course as per this…” I extracted the folded A4 paper with the notification of results, “… this was my result”

She scrutinized it, a brief beam on the face at the score, then “You are sure you did not pick your letter?”
“No, this is my first trip since last December, when you said the letters were not yet ready”
“Let me check,” she went through a list of names, against which I could see some signatures.  For sure my name was not on the list of those who were supposed to sign for letters.  My heart skipped the first beat.  What was going on!?

“Are you sure you applied?,” she asked again.
“What the h*** have I just shown you?  Was it not my confirmation of results?,” I did not say that, though that is what my system prompted me to say.  Instead my mouth uttered, “I sure did.  You just saw my results.  Here it is again,” I unfolded the letter and extended it to her direction once again.
She ignored it, “Let me confirm the committee report, just a moment”

After some scrutiny, “Yes,” she said and looked at me, then back to the papers, “You did not do all the prerequisite courses,” she paused, “That is why,” she finalized and gazed in my direction – some sense of accomplishment evident.

To address my perplexed state, she added, “You were supposed to do two courses,” she let that phrase sink in first, then continued, “But you did only one”

Shock
That did it.  It took willpower and lots of strength to match from Director’s office and travel back to Uthiru.  In fact I spent the first ten minutes of my walk toward Riverside Drive stage not even aware of my surroundings.  I think I suffered shock but that did not last long.  Soon I was on denial that maybe I was dreaming.  Nonetheless, by the time I was in the starbus matatu traveling back to Uthiru, I was bargaining of a better outcome.  By noon when I matched to my work place at Uthiru, I was in complete acceptance and was starting to plan for how I would do the missed prerequisite course during the May 2012 session.  The current situation would definitely be a setback, but there was nothing that I could do to change it.  A five month delay was not that bad, I reasoned out.  Worse could have happened, I consoled myself.  Maybe I was not even ready to pay the 100k fee for the first semester – “That could be the reason,” I told myself.

Monday
The reason why I was at the office of the Deputy Director of SCI on that Monday morning was to at least voice my concern over the improper communication by the faculty.

“Happy New Year to you.  What brings you to my office on this first day of work?,” the DD had greeted me.
“Happy New Year also,” I started, “I had applied for the MSc course and did one prerequisite course that I was told to do.  When I came to look for an admission letter, I was told that I was supposed to do two,” I cut a long story short.

“Do you have your results?”
That is something I had learnt before – always carry your papers if they are likely to become the subject matter.  I handed him the confirmation of results and five transcripts.

“There must be a mistake.  You are properly supposed to be admitted,” he said after flipping through, then added, “We have had few such cases, especially Engineering students, whom we tell to do only one course depending on their undergraduate results.  I was on leave during the committee meeting hence this omission”

I had mixed emotions.  I had already resigned to waiting for May and joining the programme in 2013.  I had even switched off plans for securing the 100k fee.  To get me out of my daydream, he instructed me to get my file from the Secretary.

The file
The Secretary glanced at me only briefly, she already knew me from my numerous visits to this office.  I cannot remember her acknowledging my greetings, “What do you want?,” she must have asked.

“The DD has sent me for my file,” I said.
“I told you that you have not been admitted,” she resisted, then went ahead and made a phone call.  From the conversation, she was summoning someone to come over for an errand.  Within five minutes a lady in white dust coat matched into the office.  She was given a name written on a small piece of paper and instructed to get a file.

“Please get the file for this… eh…”, she hesitated, “… student.”
In her hesitation, she was probably ready to chip in a big adjective.

The person sent came back about thirty minutes later, “Nimetafuta, hakuna.  Hiyo file hakuna kabisa,” she confessed her inability to trace the file.

“Are you sure you applied?,” the secretary asked me.
I have always learnt to keep my cool, but I tend to think that the Sec was deliberately trying to make me loose it.  I therefore counted ten to one and said, “Yes, I delivered it here personally two years ago.”

“Go back and check the archives for stroke zero nine,” she instructed her colleague, who momentarily left, evidently with some protest, for another thirty minutes, only to come back with the same verdict, “Haki yenyewe nimetafuta everywhere.  Hiyo file hakuna,” she said resignedly.

I knew that the Sec was about to panic, because of the implications of loosing a file in an ISO9001 certified institution.  The panic probably restored her memory, “Let me check these other files that you were supposed to file.”

A simple flip of the first four files from the pile behind her seat unearthed the lost file.

Today
Back to the DD about one hour later – he was not impressed with the one hour search.  He did not mince, “Had you gone to the high court registry?”

He signed a few sheets of papers in the file and handed it back, “Take it back to the Secretary.  Tell her to hand it over to the Director.”

As I stood to leave, he added, “You shall need to wait for about one week to get your letter.  However, make sure that you attend today’s evening class, where we shall be welcoming members of the new class.”

That is how I found myself amongst the thirty or so students who attended the first session of the class, though I was probably the only one without an admission letter.  The journey that started three year prior was now just about to start properly.  It had previously been a rehearsal.

Christmas
It is December, the year is ending and am looking back wondering how I survived the journey.  I have had runs before, including the 2009 42km marathon where I collapsed at the finish line, but the SCI course was different. 

Take the first three courses in semester 1, when we were all green and just getting acquainted.  It did not take long before we were bundled into groups for groupwork by random selection, thanks to the DD’s own initiative.

“You see, I gave you people a chance to form groups but you failed.  For that reason, these are the groups,” he introduced the topic during one of his evening classes.  Thereafter we were on our own as we tackled the ICS612 DB design course.  Most comrades would like to forget two events in this course – the group presentations, where he had given a marking scheme before, but the scores were still quite mean.  The second event was the final exam, which we shall just call, ‘the exam with the case’.  The two other courses in Computer Architecture and Foundations of Artificial Intelligence had their share of challenges, but we had a sigh of relief when the results came out week 7 of semester 2.

Mean
The next dose of three courses for semester two were manageable, mainly because we had already learnt that the UON is as mean as it has always been and nothing is a ride in the park.  That is how we managed the courses in OS, Networking and System Analysis.

Strike
Just when we thought all shall be smooth to the end, the lecturers and staff of universities in Kenya, including the UON went on strike, just when the third semester was to start.  The semester had the precision of clockwork and was to end just before Christmas.  The two week strike and hence two week delay in starting the term threw spanners to the clockworks and caused a full month extension of the semester.  When the session started, we were faced with four courses which were quite a challenge to manage, in terms of time and workload.  While ICT project management and ICT and society seem to have been comfortable courses, memories of ICS600 were brought back in full swing with the ICS618 Object oriented technologies course that took us back to the deep end of C++ programming.  But the feather on the cap belongs to Research Methodologies class. 

The second Prof. to teach the class in the year had warned us from day one that, “Woe unto you for deciding to take this course.  You shall regret that decision since we shall put you under the highest pressure ever,” he said repeatedly.  Being a physicist, he actually meant ‘pressure’ by definition involving force.  “After all, what is the meaning of masters if not to master?,” he would always declare.  His assignments proved it.  For the first time ever, people were getting zero out of ten.

He would add, “But because am generous, whenever I give you a ‘repeat the assignment’, am sugarcoating a mark of zero to three”

Is it not a relief that we now end the year and just await the four semester exams in mid-January?  After that we shall be four courses short of getting out of SCI.

Happy New Year 2013 – the run continues.



Wanjawa, W. B. - Nairobi, Kenya, December 31, 2012

Marathon 2012 - It rained, but we managed

Marathon 2012 - It rained, but we managed

The weather
What would you make of a marathon date with the following ingredients: whole night rains the night prior, heavy rain while I left the house few minutes before six to catch a matatu to town, and a power failure lasting the whole night!

That is how the Sunday of October 28, 2012 started – the tenth edition of the annual Nairobi International marathon, as sponsored by Standard Chartered bank.

I was tempted to get back to bed when the alarm went off at five-thirty.  The pounding rain could be heard outside the house.  The darkness created by the power failure was thick.  The morning was still!  It took will power to take some breakfast and head to the highway, amidst the rains that kept pouring on me.  I got into the matatu soaked wet.

Closed
By the time I alighted at University way, thirty minutes past six, the weather had really improved.  The morning rains had ended nor was the morning cold.  The tarmac roads had puddles of water, collected at sections, even as I made my way from the Uni, on Uhuru highway, towards the stadium.  This stretch of the road was already closed – and the only way to get to the stadium was by walking.  On a normal day, one would take a matatu from Haile Sellasie Avenue to the Nyayo Stadium stage – this was not a normal day – it was an international marathon day.

I joined a group of runners, evident from their snow white Tshirts, labeled ‘Run for a Reason’ on the back.  The front was mostly covered by the runner number affixed on the chest area.  It took me fifteen minutes to get to the gathering outside the Nyayo stadium.  The runners for the 42km event were already charged.  The jostling started, even as I joined them.  I knew that my run was still over 30-minutes away, but the excitement on the marathon was getting the better of me.

Start
Somehow, the 42km full marathon managed to start at exactly 7.00am.  I saw ‘somehow’ due to the sheer man ‘power’ that the G4S security personnel were forced to put in place to keep the charging crowd contained just behind the starting line.

Off they went, and on we started our movement towards the starting lineup, thirty more minutes prior to the start.  The security personnel had a worse time than before.  The previous crowd, now pounding 42 clicks, was officially recorded as 778 runners.  The weather was superb.  I expected a record to be broken on this day.  No sun, no rain, no cold.  I even thought of switching to the 42k.  Nonetheless, I had to refocus on my run. 

Record
I was not sure whether I could break my last record on this favourable weather.  I had not practiced much.  Last year, with running number 3899, I managed a time of 1.32.37.  Would I beat this?  I joined the half marathon crowd.  This particular 21k gathering was over five thousand.  The balance thirteen thousand participated in the ten or five kilometer events (or did not participate at all).

An helicopter hovered overhead.  The runners responded by waving at it, even as it came to a standstill mid-air, just about 100m over our heads.  Its rotors starting to deafen but it left soon after.  It made several rounds at the stadium, and later patrolled the Uhuru Highway—Mombasa road stretch.  Was it security or paparazzi?  There was no time to ponder since momentarily at seven-thirty, our race started.  Sprinting off the front, the elite runners left the rest of us almost immediately.  I started the race slowly.  The weather was cool but not cold.  There was no sunshine anywhere.  There was no rain. 

Water
We had the first water point at Uhuru park, as we made our way back to Uhuru Highway upto University Way junction and started back towards the stadium, through diversions at Kenyatta avenue and Haile Sellasie.  I expected to see the 10km marker back at the stadium, though I did not see anything when I crossed through the double timing chip readers.  The timing chip was located on the reverse side of the runner number.  I heard two beeps as I passed by, assuring that runner no. 2757 had been recorded as a part participant.  I knew there were another two such systems on the route.

I was still looking out for the 10km marker when the 42km front runners overtook me on Mombasa road, just before I did the turn back.  I saw a time of 1.27.14 on their lead car.  Earlier on, the 21km front runners had been seen on the other side of the road, at a time check of 0.52.13, as shown on their lead car.  By turn back, there was no distance marker.  If anything, the second set of the timing system awaited my approach.

Finish
When you make a final turn back, you know that you shall soon be at the finish line.  I know that it takes about 6km from the turn to the stadium – that is a run of about 25minutes.  With good weather, I just made my way through the now thinned group of runners towards the stadium.

Finally, I saw the 20km marker, just as I made a left turn on Langata road that would turn right some 400m ahead and back to the stadium.  The city clock at the Uhuru highway-Langata road junction read 8.57am.  I was not going to get a time of less than 1.30, though I would now try for something lower than 1.35.

I made the final approach to the stadium and then stumbled just at the main entrance to the stadium compound.  The stumble injured my right big toe, and for a moment I almost dropped out due to the sharp pain that hit my tired body.  It was willpower and the encouragement by spectators and fellow athletes that pushed me to the stadium entrance for the 300m run around the stadium to the finish line.

Pain
The pain on my toe was so much, that I forgot to stop my timer, and went straight to the side of the track to remove my right shoe and examine the toe.  It was sore and hot.  It was swollen and the nail looked almost dislodged.  I carried the right shoe on my hand even as I exited the stadium.  That is when I remembered to stop the timer, which now read 1.36.41.  I expect to have a final time of one minute less than the timer reading.  With a limp, I reflected on the 21km course and what it had to offer... 

Water was availed at two stations in city centre… and nothing else until deep in Mombasa road.  This made the ‘unwatered’ section quite a torture.  Lack of distance markers has become an annual disease that may not have a cure.  I suggest we just learn to live with it.  Talking about living with situations, last year’s online certificates did not bear any names.  They read, ‘This is to certify that ?Number  #3899 finished the 21km half marathon with an official time of 01:32:37’.  I would advise that they go back to the printed paper certificates if they cannot manage an online system.

The good – energy drinks offered at some sections of Mombasa road on the way back – and at the finish line too.  This was a first one.  I hope they make this the standard.  The weather was quite favourable, while security was so present that we all felt safe.  A record number of 19,000 participants from 70 different nationalities was also a milestone.

Winner
My hurting toe forced me to leave the stadium almost immediately after my run.  I briefly met my three team members who finished their run soon thereafter.  The announcement that the 42km winner, Wesley Kibet, was being handed his 1.5M after conquering in 2.10.40 found me on my way out.  The paid did not ease when it was announced that he had been awarded a topup of 250k for breaking the current course record of 2.10.54 set last year. 

The womens run was won by Salome Biwott in 2.26.41, taking home another 1.5meter.  Our 21km event was won by Mathew Kiprotich in 1.02.19 and Pascalia Chepkorir in 1.08.12.  However, my toe was hurting so much I do not even remember hearing the details of the other top three. 

Scrapping
The toe hurt further when there were rumours that next year’s event shall consist of only one run, being 42km run, since the 21k, 10k and 5k shall be scrapped.  Should this happen, that would be the end of the Nairobi International marathon as we know it.  But did I say ‘rumour’?

WWB, Nairobi, October 29, 2012

Marathon before Marathon - the road race of Sunday, September 30, 2012

Marathon before Marathon - the road race of Sunday, September 30, 2012

I was to do this run on Sunday morning.  However, I found myself staying in bed past nine and later having a heavy breakfast.  At 9.30am, when I was supposed to be 5km deep in the run, I found myself watching a documentary on Sports Injuries on Explorer Channel.  The lesson was that injuries can occur and that athletes are prone to these - even on simple exercises.  I had finally got the perfect excuse to stay indoors.

A glance at the 8-week marathon schedule, on my earlier blogpost, indicated a 1hr 30min run on this weekend.  This was the only opportunity to do this, after which it would be too late.  This new realization forced me into rescheduling my long run for later in the day.

Hot
The afternoon sun was hot.  I headed to the workplace to pick my running gear, with the hope that the heat would subside as the clock ticked towards four.  This was not to happen.  By 4.30pm it was still hot.  Bearing in mind that the run would take about 1hr 45min, I had to start before five, in order to finish before seven.  With a 500ml water bottle at hand, and a phone set to stopwatch on the other hand, I left the dressing room.

With the blazing heat, I started off slowly and exited the employer's main gate.
"Otsia tsimbiro? Otsia khena?," the sentry asked, even as he opened the gate.

I changed the stopwatch timer on the phone to split mode and started my run: 

0.00.00 - Start of run, just outside the gate
It is 4.50pm.  I start with the mild hilly section towards Uthiru roundabout.  The heat is just too much.  Am tempted to turn back and cancel the run, but the schedule forces me on.  I see two or three couples seated on the grassy lawns just on the outer fence of the compound.  In about three minutes I join the tarmac road from AHITI and Kabete Technical.  On my left I see a crusade in progress.  The preacher beckons, "Come here, all you sinners walking by.  Your day of salvation has come."  Luckily, am running, so am not in that category.  Just behind me, the roundabout is overflowing with weekend revellers.  There are all forms of activity in that circular enclosure - face painting, idling, chatter, photography, recording of music video.  I divert from the tarmac to the dusty road that joins the highway, just besides Kabete Police, now renamed Dagoretti Divisional Police headquarters, as per the signboard near the highway.  I cross the Waiyaki way and run to 'the wall' as I join the route that makes a circuit next to the Department of Veterinary Services.  This circuit get me to Ndumboini stage.

0.12.34 - Ndumboini stage
I press split as I hit the stage.  The noisy matatu crew beckon passengers, "Tawo thirty, Westy twenty, Ungech kumi, Gari ya masaa"
I passby, then cross the tarmac to run on the left, as I now pass University of Nairobi's Upper Kabete campus inlet road.  From here, I head downhill, on Kapenguria road, all the way to the river.  I release myself and quicken the pace, in response to the downhill roll.  The stretch is dusty, though.  Coming from downhill, two vehicles in a span of five minutes create a dust storm on me.  I however reduce pace, struggle to regain my breath amidst the chocking dust, then trudge on.  As I reach the river, and the downhill ends, I see another couple, on my right, just beside the road.  The guy in sitting across a paddle of water, while the lady is standing opposite him.  I think they are discussing how the guy has crossed the river just for her, evident from the giggles.

0.20.32 - Tank
Twenty minutes of run gets me to 'the tank'.  This is the end of the downhill and the start of the next hilly section that should take me to tarmac.  I have to contend with running against another two dust-spewing vehicles following each other.  I passby Kenya Animal Genetic Resources Centre to my left, followed by the Nairobi Childrens Home to my right.  Momentarily, I hit the tarmac.

0.25.37 - Tarmac
Tarmac at 25minutes is quite a good pace.  I join this Lower Kabete road by turning right.  I take my first sip of water, then start the mild uphill towards UON Lower Kabete campus, which is on my left.  At the vehicle stage just next to the UON main gate, I see four ladies, just opposite my running steps.  I turn back just in time to see them gesture in my direction.  I can imagine them cracking a joke, probably in praise of dudes who have such prowess, but that is just my mind playing games.  I clear my mind by taking another sip of water.  This route has remained the same as I experienced it last year.  The only noticeable change is the renaming of Kenya Institute of Administration to Kenya School of Government.  I notice this change of name on the institution as I passby, now heading towards the generally flat terrain, with housing estates and homes lined up on both sides of the road.  I run past Kabete Telkom exchange without noticing it.

0.45.09 - Ngecha junction
I divert from Lower Kabete road into Ngecha road as I passby Lake View estate.  The condition of the tarmac is good.  The last time I was here its condition was deplorable.  Anyways, just a mild hill then a downhill, allowing me a sip of water, gets me to the Ngecha-Getathuru road junction.  The next part is now the dreaded section.
  
0.52.32 - Getathuru junction
I confirm that the split shows 52 minutes of run.  Am just about to hit the 1hour mark.  I have this long hill to battle.  It takes about 15-minutes to climb this unrelenting hill.  It shall take me through Kitisuru estate, the centre and later Mwimuto.  The sun is still blazing, but it has lost a lot of its fury.  I pace on without noticing much.  A matatu blocks my path at the centre, just to beckon passengers.  I am forced to divert from the side of the tarmac to the extremity of the road, just to avoid bumping into the matatu.  I am just in time to see the 1hr mark pass through the timer as I pass by the centre.

1.06.18 - Turn off to river
Am relieved to finish the hilly section, as I turn off to my left, towards the river.  This is generally downhill, then another uphill.  My mind is preoccupied with finishing the run.  I do not notice the hill after the river.  Am jolted back to reality while passing by the Nairobi Childrens Home, second home, just before I get back to tarmac.  I hear a sound like, "Jambo.  Endelea hivyo"
"Jambo," am startled, as I look to my right to see this guy just opposite the gate of the home, greeting me.
"Endelea hivyo, ubarikiwe"
"Ahsante sana," I respond, now about ten meters past his position.  Am cognizant that we still have a few good people who can wish blessings on a stranger.

1.14.40 - Tarmac
Am at tarmac.  It is now a matter of getting myself back home.  I know the route and can even close my eyes and run the rest of the track.  I roll downhill to 'the tank'

1.19.17 - Tank
I passby the tank, without much ado.  I face the hill with determination.  I overtake some guy who is just walking at this isolated part of the road near the river.  There in nobody else in sight.  It is now well past six.  The sun is setting.  Signs of darkness can be see from afar.  My mind wonders... what if this guy just removes, say, a gun and asks me to surrender my phone?  How would I react?  I have not have time to think over this since I immediately see some three people going downhill towards the river.  My dustless run is interrupted by a vehicle that dusts me as I keep my uphill effort.

1.29.15 - End of hill
It is a relief to finish the hill.  Now there is no more hill and I just have to move on to the finish line.

1.30.11 - Ndumbo
I reach Ndumbo stage hardly a minute after finishing the hilly stretch.  I notice nothing.  I turn to my left so as to face the Vet lab circuit, which should get me to the wall.  From the wall I have to cross Waiyaki way - very busy - then am back to Kabete Police on the other side of the road.  I just wonder why vehicles speed on this 60km limit stretch.

1.37.03 - Kabete Police
Am just about to finish the run.  A dirt road, to the tarmac, then to Uthiru roundabout, then down to the gate and that is it.

1.40.53 - Stop
It is now 6.30pm.  I hit the stop button.  I still have half the contents of the 500ml bottle, which I gulp down in one go, even as I reenter the compound for my warm down, rest and reflections.

Had this been an international triumph, the national anthem would have been played. Am taken aback...
It was just past midnight when four not-so-sober guys started to sing the national anthem.  Saluting with their right hand and a drink on their left, they stood up from their highly elevated seats to sing aloud.  It was quite a strange occurrence as evidenced by the look on the faces of the bartenders.  The singers did not seem to care though.  This was team Kenya passing by the Olympic Stadium during the London 2012 Olympic games.  This was Friday, July 27.  This was an historic day for all citizens.  After singing the stanza, and ensuring the flag was off screen, the revelers sat back and continued their earlier interrupted chatter.

I just smiled at this episode even as I came back to reality.

Doing this run was a major achievement.  This route is usually a 21km half marathon mock.  I can bet that I shall be able to finish the real marathon, come October 28, in this or a lower time.

Would I do such a run again before the marathon event?  The schedule says so but....

Nairobi International Marathon 2012

Nairobi International Marathon 2012

The event
The Nairobi International Marathon, 2012 edition takes place on Sunday, October 28, 2012 at Nairobi's Nyayo stadium from 7.00am.

Registrations are open at the organizer's website - nairobimarathon

Registration fees remain KShs.1,000.00 for single participation in any of the run categories.  Registration points are all Stanchart banks countrywide and major supermarkets in Nairobi.

The first edition of this run was held in 2003.  As we participate in the magical 10th edition, you need to consider your preparedness.  The various runs need different training regimes.  Whether seasoned or first timer - training is a must.  The duration and intensity of the training varies though, depending on the run category and whether you have done a similar run before.

Run categories
The various run categories in the 2012 edition are:
a) 42km full marathon - to start at 7.00am (6.30am assembly)
b) 21km half marathon - to start at 7.30am (7.00am assembly)
c) 10km run - to start at 8.50am (7.30am assembly)
d) 4km family fun run - to start at 9.20am (8.00am assembly)

I participated in my first run at this event in 2007, doing the 21km run in my debut.  I followed it with three consecutive 42km runs.  Last year, at the height of terrorism threat in Nairobi, I was persuaded to skip the run altogether.  Even the sponsor pulled out in the last minute.  However, this did not stop me from participating in the 21km run, albeit without the participation of my team.

This year am keen to do another 21km.  I have not trained much, with a series of events in the year conspiring to keep me out of the running routes.  Nonetheless, I have a 8-week window of opportunity to train, participate and post good time in this year's event.

Training schedule
The 8-week training schedule (21km run) is shown below:
(Note week 1 starts Sunday, Sep. 2, 2012, while week 8 starts Sunday, Oct. 21, 2012)
Week 1 - Monday, Wednesday, Friday runs (45min to 1hr each run)
Week 2 - Monday, Wednesday, Friday runs (45min to 1hr each run)
Week 3 - Monday, Wednesday, Friday, weekend runs (45min to 1hr each run, weekend run 1hr30min)
Week 4 - Monday, Wednesday, Friday, weekend runs (45min to 1hr each run, weekend run 1hr30min)
Week 5 - Monday, Wednesday, Friday, weekend runs (45min to 1hr each run, weekend run 1hr30min)
Week 6 - Monday, Wednesday, Friday, weekend runs (45min to 1hr each run, weekend run 1hr30min)
Week 7 - Monday, Wednesday, Friday runs (45min to 1hr each run)
Week 8 - week of rest, 3 walks, each 30 minutes (Monday, Wednesday, Friday)
Week 9 - Sunday, October 28, 2012 - run day

Important note - carry along some water, and take at least 500ml for any run over 1hr.  Consume about 250ml extra for any additional half hour or part thereof.

The same schedule can be adopted for a 10km run, with a little flexibility.  A 42km event needs a much longer preparation.  However, if you are participating in this, just to 'finish the run', then the above schedule can help you out.  Ensure that you do one 2hr30min to 3hr run at least in Week 5 or 6.  However, expect to finish the run, with some difficulty, about 5hrs later.

Ten reasons
Why bother with this (or any other run):
- running, a form of physical exercise is good for your health
- these runs, and the preps enables you to take a break out of your busy schedule, hence helpful in giving you a balance in work and play
- the runs help you see and experience the outdoors (and there are many things at the outdoors - read my previous experiences from earlier posts)
- on the event day, you get to see one of the largest crowds gathered for a good cause
- the Nairobi International marathon is for a good cause.  The proceeds help those who can not afford expensive eye surgeries at various hospitals in Kenya (Kapsabet, Kapenguria, Iten, Kikuyu, Kwale, Sabatia, Tenwek).  For this initiative, KShs.17M was raised during the 2011 event
- the sense of achievement after the run is just too great to miss
- legs (and usually the whole body) aches for a few days after the event.  This is good for the body - a one off strain/stress to improve its immunity
- it gives you an opportunity to meet friends
- there are good photography moments
- you get an excuse to run alongside the greatest runners in Kenya and the world

Registrations close Sunday, October 21, 2012, with online registrations closing on October 24.

See you all on Sunday, October 28, 2012 at the 21km starting line.

The last run with my father

The last run with my father

The phone call
I had somehow known that one of these phone calls that I really dread would finally just bear bad news.  To preserve my eight hours of sleep, I have always made it a tradition not to touch the phone from ten in the night, until seven the next day.  Everybody close to me knows this.  My reasoning is that I need my undisturbed sleep, usually.  Occasionally, when I spend those late nights in a party, I still need the late night to enjoy, not to answer phone calls.

The phone vibrated at about four-thirty in the morning.  This particular one disturbed my sleep and I awakened.  By the time I got to the phone on the bedside table, it was already off.  The caller ID confirmed that it was my elder brother.  He knows that I do not receive late night calls – he had never called me this early ever.  My mind was already in a spin.  I kind of knew what awaited me when the day breaks.

I thought of calling back, but coincidentally did not have credit.  I therefore decided to wait until six, when I would get out of the house and visit the early-riser shopkeepers to buy airtime.  I could not sleep though, so I switched on the telly and watched the early morning news on CNN then flipped to AlJazeera on another channel.  Another flip landed me on BBC world.  None of our local stations was back.  They were still on break during which they feed into these international channels.

I dragged myself out of the house a few minutes to six and made my way to the shops, just across the main street.  It takes about a minute from my house to the shops, since I see the main street while seated on my verandah.  The morning was still cold and a bit dark.  However, the matatus on the road were already making their characteristic loud beeps and deafening music.  The touts were already shouting each other down, beckoning passengers to their vehicles.

Back to the house, just before I could load the airtime, the phone rang once more, messing up my progression of keying in the 14-digit recharge PIN.
“Yes,” I started
“Barack, is that Barack?  Is that you my brother, this is Pauline,” the caller was low and a bit breathless.
“Yes, it’s me”
“Dad is gone.  I said Dad is gone”

I just sat there, not sure whether I even disconnected the phone or she did.  I just sat by the reading table, the recharge scratch card on my left, the phone on the right…. and did nothing.  I do not know what went through my mind.  Come to think of it, I probably blacked out.  I came back to reality at about 6.30am, when the news sank in and I walked to the bathroom sink to wash my face.


Find it out
There is no proper signage at Kakamega’s PGH, though they are trying to do a facelift.  Together with three siblings, we were at the hospital to clear medical bills and finalize preparations for the send-off.  From the main hospital, we were directed to go ‘down there, after the gate’.

We kept going, managed to get through the hospital’s back gate and were then faced with two compounds - one whose gate was closed, the other whose gate was partially open.  There was no sign of life on either.  With one of my bros having been left behind at the main hospital, instinct directed the three of us to turn left into the compound with the partially open gate, just across a dilapidated once-tarmac road.

We walked into the compound not knowing what to expect.  There was an L-shaped block, with the open room on our left empty, some five meters away, while the nearer block had its windows facing us.  While wondering where to go next, or even where we were, we heard some sound like the movement of wheels on the ground coming from our backs.  This was coming from the direction of the gate that we came in through.  We all looked back, almost in rhythm, only to see two people pushing a trolley towards the compound.  Without a doubt, there was a still body on the trolley, partly covered, with the head part partially visible, being wheeled towards the empty room to our left.  The two did not seem to notice us, since they just passed by us continuing their small talk.
“This is it!,” we said almost in unison.

We proceeded to the block on our right and went through a door, to face a long empty corridor with doors on both sides.  There was no one, no sound nor any signs on the doors.  From afar, we could make out the voices of the two gents and their trolley on the left of our earshot.
“Now, where do we go?,” asked Pam
“Kwani hi hosi ya gava haina watu?,” retorted my bro.
“Let us find out,” I said.


The search
And therefore, methodically, we started trying out doors on either side of the corridor, one at a time, each of us targeting a separate door.  We would knock, try the handle and then try to open.  The first four doors on our entrance side were all locked.  The fifth one gave way, beckoning us to all convene at the particular door.  However, there was nobody in the room, though it was evidently an office, with two chairs and an old worn out table.  On the table was a black book, which was evidently old and in need of replacement.  We stood partly in the room, partly out, for about five minutes, but no one came by.  The place remained quiet, almost eerie.

We all matched out and decided to wait for someone to come over.  However, my sis’s patience ran out soon after, as she disappeared hardly two minutes later, back to the block to look for someone - anyone.
“Wemukuja, twende,” she summoned us five minutes later.

We went to the office we had already identified, to find a guy in white overall, a cap and gloved hands.  He extended his hand in our direction, in a manner of greeting.
“Jambo,” we answered from afar, ignoring his outstretched hand.
“Mwatakaje?”
“Tumekuja kuona Mzee”
“Anaitwaje?”
“David... David Wanjawa”

He fingered the wornout book, “Alikuja lini?”
“Eh, ilikuwa, eh….,” we started almost in unison, as we searched out mental diaries…
“Ilikuwa Thursday morning, tarehe tano.  Julai tarehe tano”

He continued using his right finger as a guide as he did the permutation of date and name, until finally, “Oh, ndio huyu,” he pointed at some hand written entry.
“Ndio huyo,” we responded, in confirmation, after gazing through the entry.
He then picked a small piece of paper, out of the many such sized papers that had previously been some pre-printed stationery, now cut into small pieces, with only one side usable.  He scribbled some things, did some loud arithmetic, then pointed the paper in our direction, “Pay this bill, then come back.”

This directive forced us back to the main hospital.  After paying the bill, getting some paperwork and a notification certificate, we went back to the morgue with the receipts, only for the attendant to say that, “there is no viewing on Thursdays”.  As we retreated in anger, he added, “and better be here tomorrow in good time, since we also close early, by two”


Fight it out
Even good plans can go bad, and that is how our perfectly planned Friday started out.  We travelled to KK early, in my brothers salon car, reaching there by nine – favoured mainly by the weather which enabled us make the 60km journey in just under an hour.  Had it rained, we would not have left our home before mid-day, so there is no need to even try talking about a ‘what if’, as far as the rains are concerned.  In fact, we wasted a lot of driving time on the Sabatia-Butere stretch of the earth road, which is still under construction - and the rains had pounded this part the previous night.
“Yani hi barabara itajengwa miaka ngapi?  This is the third year and it is still being dug out!”
It is on this stretch that we also met with the hired matatu, that was to have left home with us, one hour prior.  The timing of the day was starting out on the wrong timing.

At KK, we went straight to the place where we had hired the hearse, only to be told that ‘it is not available until later’.  How can a ten o’clock appointment be ‘later’?  We tried the contact number provided by the person who had taken the 8k deposit the previous day, but he was unreachable.  With tempers almost flaring, we were provided with the number of the manager to the company, who promised to come to KK in person and sort the mess.  During the phone conversation, he had said that he was even unaware that we had hired one of his vehicles, nor paid a deposit.  When he finally arrived, one hour later, the manager, with lots of apology, informed us that the ‘young man’ had booked the vehicle to two parties on the same day, hoping for double profit - some for his own keeping.  He concluded by promising us another hearse at two o’clock.

We just hanged around the vicinity of the depressing morgue, watching one sad party after another come in vehicles, mourn briefly, then depart with caskets.  In the midst of the depression, my attention was drawn to some commotion at the morgue gate, “Huwesi chukua mtoto wangu.  Si ulimufukusa?  Si muliachana miaka saba imepita?  Huwesi kabisa.”

A story was developing, where two different parties came to claim the body of a deceased woman.  The mother of the deceased and the children of the deceased on one side and the estranged husband, whom they had separated, on the other side.

In my depression I forgot to notice the hearse with the husband's party speed off, with the mother of the deceased and her lot in hot pursuit – but you cannot chase after a running vehicle on bare foot, can you?  Before our very eyes we witnessed a body being stolen – but what to do!


A Dream
My dad was interred on Sunday, July 15, 2012 in a ceremony attended by a huge multitude - one that I had never ever seen in such an event.  I however remained in a state of denial, since I was unable to come to terms with the going ons.  It was like a dream…..

I sat with the elders on Tuesday, and they told me what to write.  They made sure that I wrote what they had said, as affirmed by my reading back to them what I had written:

“Life history,” I started, as the elders and my brothers sat listening attentively,

“Kuzaliwa:
Mzee David Wanjawa Wamkaya alizaliwa mwaka wa 1926.  Babake alikuwa marehemu Wamkaya Nyajeri na mamake aliitwa Shisia Wamkaya.  Shisia aliaga dunia pindi Mzee Wanjawa alipozaliwa.  Alilelewa na mama mwenza.  Ndugu zake wengine, watoto wa Wamkaya ni marehemu Daniel Otiende, Abucheri, marehemu Achayo, Pitalis Nyajeri, Amos Nyajeri, Jekonia Amkaya, Martin Okoth na Gershom Dianga.  

Masomo:
Alisomea shule ya msingi ya Luanda Primary School kuanzia mwaka wa 1936.  Baadaye akaenda Magadi kwa mda mfupi, kisha akarudi shule ya Maliera Primary School kufanya mtihani wa Intermediate.

Kazi:
Baada ya shule, alienda Nairobi kutafuta kazi.    mwaka wa 1945 january, alianza kazi katika shirika la Reli.  Aliacha kazi hiyo ya Reli na kupata kazi nyingine kwenye kiwanda cha Magadi Soda kwanzia mwaka wa 1948 hadi 1949 Desemba.

Alirudi Nairobi mwaka wa 1950 na kujiunga na Shirika la Reli kwa mda mfupi kisha akajiunga na kikosi cha Kenya Prisons kama askari huko Industrial Area.  Alifanya kazi katika kikosi cha Kenya Prisons katika miji tofauti kama vile Nairobi, Manyani, Kajiado, Kodiaga, Kibos, Kiambu, Langata, Kamiti, Naivasha na Kapsabet.  Alistaafu kutoka Kenya Prisons mwaka wa 1983 na kurudi nyumbani kwake Kisa.  Alipostaafu, alikuwa mkulima hodari ambaye alitambuliwa katika taarafa kwa uhodari wake.  Alihusika na miradi mbali mbali ya wizara ya kilimo kama vile ufuguji wa samaki katika vikundi vya humu mashinani.

Baada ya kustaafu, Mzee Wanjawa alishiriki kwenye siasa za mashinani kama mwakilishi wa vyama mbalimbali kama vile KANU, NARC, LDP na mwishowe ODM katika tarafa ya Khwisero

Familia:
Mzee Wanjawa alikuwa na wake watatu.  Alimwoa Dorca Olwal Wanjawa mwaka wa 1948.  Walibarikiwa na watoto saba – Pauline, marehemu Christopher, marehemu Ruth, Sylvia, Caleb, Pamela na Lucy.  Mke wake wa pili ni Teresa aliyeolewa mwaka wa 1961.  Walipata watoto watano, nao ni Moses, Dauglas, Daniel, Peris na Damaris.  Mke wake wa tatu ni marehemu Leocadia Atieno, aliyemwoa mwaka wa 1965.  Alipata watoto wawili, wakiwa ni William na Barack
Mzee Wanjawa amewaacha watoto kumi na wawili (12) – wasichana sita and wavulana sita.  Pia alikuwa na wajukuu 54 and vitukuu 30.

Ugonjwa:
Mzee alianza kulalamikia maumivu and kufura kwa miguu na kuanza kupata matibabu.  Baadaye, akalalamikia maumivu ya kifua na tumbo.  Alipelekwa hospitali tofauti, ikiwemo St. Marys Mumias, New Nyanza PGH (Russia), Aga Khan Kisumu, Yala Hospital na Kakamega PGH.  Alitibiwa na kupata madawa aliyokuwa akitumia kwa muda.  Ugonjwa ulimzidi mwezi wa sita mwaka huu wa 2012, ambapo alilalamikia maumivu ya mwili.  Alipojaribu kula alikuwa akitapika.  Hali hii iliifanya familia kumpeleka Kakamega PGH tarehe 27-Juni-2012 ambapo aliaga dunia Ijumaa tarehe 6-Julai-2012.”

“That is it.  That is the end,” I reported.

“Can you re-read paragraph 1, there is something wrong with that paragraph,” one of my father’s brothers retorted.
So I read it, “Mzee was born in 1926,” I started.
“Stop right there,” he responded, “That is what I wanted to get right.  According to me, my brother was born in 1924”
“No, my brother,” another interrupted, “I have known it to be 1926 and I stand corrected”
“Am older than you, so how can you be sure of the year?  I tell you, it is 1924”
“I shall not be part of the proceedings, if the date is not 1926,” another stated
“But how do you people even know which year it was?  Did you even have calendars those day,” my elder brother asked the five elders.
They looked at each other and…

Sunshine in the Rain
The grandchildren of Mzee David did not want to hear anything on the age debate, they went ahead and printed black T-shirts that read, “Wanjawa 88”

One day after the burial, amidst heavy rains and, coincidentally, bright sunshine, my Mzee confirmed to us that he was surely gone – leaving us with tears that flow like the rain but a bright future like the shinning sun.