The marathon that never was
Kichwa
It is 9.30am. Had all worked as per plan, I would be crossing the finish line of my first run in Western Kenya. I was set to run a 90min record on the plains. This magic was to happen in the third largest city in Kenya – Kisumu. I am woken up, even as I glance at the wall clock. I can hear the audible voice which must be coming from the lower levels of my second floor abode – just outside the open window. Thanks, whoever-did-this, for the open window. This heat is killing me.
“We mtoto! Kuja!”
Some pause.
“We! Kichwa yako afanyi!”
I am surely now awake. In fact, am laughing inside. I just like the way the sentence has been framed. I now agree that the relatives of protus can only speak English. Trying out Kiswahili is a shame to the language.
Prepared
I was surely ready for this run. Since I learnt about it on the first week of July, I had put in at least seven strategic prep runs, averaging 10km per session, three runs per week for 2 weeks. I was ready to duel with two other colleagues – Dave and Rael. They had been practicing too and I knew that it was not going to be any easy for either of us, since each of us was ‘silently’ plotting to beat the other two. So, why I was not finishing my run and was instead enjoying a late morning sleep was still unclear, even to me.
“Mboga, mboga, mboga, mboga!”
I can hear this sound clearly as I get up, just on the edge of my earshot. My impression is some lady is moving around selling some wares. Surely, business is hard, having to use the natural loudspeaker on such a vast estate!
“Mboga, mboga, mboga, mboga!”
The sounds grows nearer. But… wait a minute, I see my running shoes just below the table, with a Tshirt and shorts on the table. It reminds me that I was to be part of the “Run for Life Marathon” that was to be held at Nyamasaria, about 3km out of Kisumu CBD. According to the organizers website, it was to be a “dirty” 21km run, either singly or through a four-member relay team. We could not make the four member team, hence our decision to run the 21km individually. The website however left us wondering about the logistics.
It was the first marathon where I registered “for free” – no requirement for payment – just fill in your details and that is all. How they expected to collect the five hundred shillings from me remained a wonder. They could pick it on run day anyway. Secondly the main contact person was in protus land – and his number was a +1. Were we expected to call him? Let me confirm, at this earliest opportunity, that he was not responding to email queries. I tried twice – the email and a reminder of the email. But let me also be factual. There were also two local numbers, one of which went through early July when I asked about the issue of payment, where the respondent indicated that they shall provide an MPESA number for payment within the week. I do not need to state that this did not happen.
“Mboga, mboga, kanzira, osuga, saga. Mboga, mboga.”
Am now out of bed. There is no need wondering what could have been, when there was no run. My big regret is the amount of time that I spend preparing and my determination to “finally” run in my region! I look outside through the second floor window and see the steamy hot air rise, though it is still early, hardly ten. This city can be hot! But there is no time to think about the heat, since the sound is getting louder.
“Mboga, mboga, managu, mito, kunde. Mboga, mboga.”
Cropper
I suspected that this run would be a cropper when the Government of Kenya decided to announce that the Idd holiday would be on Saturday, July 18 – the very same day of the marathon. However, my teammates did not think that there was possibility of this interfering with the run. I did not argue the point, their dreams were valid. By the window, I can now surely see the person pass by the gate, traditional tray on the head, full of stuff.
“Mboga, mboga, mrenda, akeyo, omboga, boo. Mboga, mboga.”
But I had tried. This was the last straw – I called the once working local telephone contact of the organizers, only for it to ring unobtainable. The same sound greeted my ears on the second number provided on the site. Trying the number whole of Thursday did not work. By then I was already deep in preparations. I had already been granted leave of absence and my trip was already planned. I was going to Kisumu for the run. My road travel to Kisumu on Friday was uneventful and by five I was at the lakeside city. A final Friday call to the two numbers gave the same unobtainable response. By nine at night, there was no response. Which type of marathon is this? What a wasted Saturday. But wait a minute… there is a beep on the phone, distracting me from my looking out the window. It is an sms…
“This is to invite you to the 12th UAP Ndakaini half marathon to be held on 12th September 2015. You can now register at the link below. Thank you for your continued support”
OIC – SM marathns STL work. GR8.
Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, July 18, 2015
Kichwa
It is 9.30am. Had all worked as per plan, I would be crossing the finish line of my first run in Western Kenya. I was set to run a 90min record on the plains. This magic was to happen in the third largest city in Kenya – Kisumu. I am woken up, even as I glance at the wall clock. I can hear the audible voice which must be coming from the lower levels of my second floor abode – just outside the open window. Thanks, whoever-did-this, for the open window. This heat is killing me.
“We mtoto! Kuja!”
Some pause.
“We! Kichwa yako afanyi!”
I am surely now awake. In fact, am laughing inside. I just like the way the sentence has been framed. I now agree that the relatives of protus can only speak English. Trying out Kiswahili is a shame to the language.
Prepared
I was surely ready for this run. Since I learnt about it on the first week of July, I had put in at least seven strategic prep runs, averaging 10km per session, three runs per week for 2 weeks. I was ready to duel with two other colleagues – Dave and Rael. They had been practicing too and I knew that it was not going to be any easy for either of us, since each of us was ‘silently’ plotting to beat the other two. So, why I was not finishing my run and was instead enjoying a late morning sleep was still unclear, even to me.
“Mboga, mboga, mboga, mboga!”
I can hear this sound clearly as I get up, just on the edge of my earshot. My impression is some lady is moving around selling some wares. Surely, business is hard, having to use the natural loudspeaker on such a vast estate!
“Mboga, mboga, mboga, mboga!”
The sounds grows nearer. But… wait a minute, I see my running shoes just below the table, with a Tshirt and shorts on the table. It reminds me that I was to be part of the “Run for Life Marathon” that was to be held at Nyamasaria, about 3km out of Kisumu CBD. According to the organizers website, it was to be a “dirty” 21km run, either singly or through a four-member relay team. We could not make the four member team, hence our decision to run the 21km individually. The website however left us wondering about the logistics.
It was the first marathon where I registered “for free” – no requirement for payment – just fill in your details and that is all. How they expected to collect the five hundred shillings from me remained a wonder. They could pick it on run day anyway. Secondly the main contact person was in protus land – and his number was a +1. Were we expected to call him? Let me confirm, at this earliest opportunity, that he was not responding to email queries. I tried twice – the email and a reminder of the email. But let me also be factual. There were also two local numbers, one of which went through early July when I asked about the issue of payment, where the respondent indicated that they shall provide an MPESA number for payment within the week. I do not need to state that this did not happen.
“Mboga, mboga, kanzira, osuga, saga. Mboga, mboga.”
Am now out of bed. There is no need wondering what could have been, when there was no run. My big regret is the amount of time that I spend preparing and my determination to “finally” run in my region! I look outside through the second floor window and see the steamy hot air rise, though it is still early, hardly ten. This city can be hot! But there is no time to think about the heat, since the sound is getting louder.
“Mboga, mboga, managu, mito, kunde. Mboga, mboga.”
Cropper
I suspected that this run would be a cropper when the Government of Kenya decided to announce that the Idd holiday would be on Saturday, July 18 – the very same day of the marathon. However, my teammates did not think that there was possibility of this interfering with the run. I did not argue the point, their dreams were valid. By the window, I can now surely see the person pass by the gate, traditional tray on the head, full of stuff.
“Mboga, mboga, mrenda, akeyo, omboga, boo. Mboga, mboga.”
But I had tried. This was the last straw – I called the once working local telephone contact of the organizers, only for it to ring unobtainable. The same sound greeted my ears on the second number provided on the site. Trying the number whole of Thursday did not work. By then I was already deep in preparations. I had already been granted leave of absence and my trip was already planned. I was going to Kisumu for the run. My road travel to Kisumu on Friday was uneventful and by five I was at the lakeside city. A final Friday call to the two numbers gave the same unobtainable response. By nine at night, there was no response. Which type of marathon is this? What a wasted Saturday. But wait a minute… there is a beep on the phone, distracting me from my looking out the window. It is an sms…
“This is to invite you to the 12th UAP Ndakaini half marathon to be held on 12th September 2015. You can now register at the link below. Thank you for your continued support”
OIC – SM marathns STL work. GR8.
Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, July 18, 2015
