Running 1,000km in a day – is it even possible?
The turnaround
I was only worried about the ‘coming back’ part of the trip. It had its many unknowns. If this part would happen, then the whole trip would also happen. Whether this would happen now depended on time. It was now 8.20am. I was already worried about 3.20pm. It was a Wednesday. It was Idd holiday. It was June 5. It was the middle of the week… but we were on holiday.
This day was purely an accidental occasion. The trio of us were not supposed to be seated here. If anything, I could be still sleep at this time. I do not know what the other two could be doing. I can only guess that both could be asleep too, judging by the time they reported to duty the previous day – both were late, as late as nine on a 7.45am day. Their reporting late is however what brought about this whole trip.
“Imagine that you have just arrived, and tomorrow you shall not be on duty,” I told Sally, the visitor from the land of Haile Sellasie.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe that. What shall I do?,” she exclaimed.
“My friend,” Nikki joined in, “You shall just have to sleep until late.”
“How about a train journey to the coast,” I said, without any inkling on the possibility of such. I was just saying. Hoping that it shall be dismissed.
“I would like that,” Sally responded, much to my surprise.
“Not possible,” Nikki said, “You guys are dreaming my friends.”
To prove what I also thought was not possible anyway, I extracted a notebook and wrote a few statements.
“See here,” I pointed to a statement that I had written as ‘start time 8.20am’.
“This is how you start your journey and reach at 2.20pm. And now, look at this,” I pointed to the next line on the notebook, where I had already written ‘starting back 3.20pm’.
“This gets you back to Nairobi. So technically, you can get down there at the coast and be back.”
“My friend, not possible,” Nikki said once more. Examining the piece of paper, while shaking her head.
“Oh my God! I want to go to Mombasa,” Sally said, seemingly not realizing the gravity of what she was talking about.
“There are many things to do however,” I updated my excited guest, “Starting from money, to bookings, to tickets, to transport to the station… the whole package.”
“I want Mombasa,” is all that Sally could say, “I want it!”
We left it at that, and went on with our daily activities, the subject forgotten. Bad idea, if you could ask me. It was a busy day. Day 1 of the visit by our guest. Another busy but routine day for the rest of us. The day would at some point come to an end and it would be time to bid our guest goodbye for the evening.
“So tomorrow, we go?,” Sally would ask as we called it a day around six.
And go we would. I would soon be searching for mobile money. I would momentarily be online booking the trains. I would be arranging transport for the morning. I would be creating a communication group to exchange information and I would soon be sending a final confirmation message at around nine in the night, “It is done. I shall pick you people at 5.00am. Be ready”
Too early
The taxi person was punctual. I found him waiting next to the local supermarket, our agreed meeting point, at exactly five. In ten minutes we would be picking Nikki, and in another twenty would be picking Sally from her hotel. It was still dark as we drove through Mombasa road, reaching Mlolongo at six. It was still rainy. The rains that had started the previous evening had not relented. We had a tea break at Mlolongo.
“Chai na hamri for each of us,” I told the waiter.
“Ati chai na nini?,” he wanted my confirmation.
“One mahamri – isn’t one supposed to be a ‘hamri’?”
We did not get any surprise reaction from those on the table. They stayed true to character.
“The tea is cold, have mine re-heated,” that could only come from me.
“This is tea with milk?,” that was the surprise from Sally, “For us, tea is with no milk.”
“This mahamri is not fresh,” as expected, Nikki complained.
The driver behaved like a good guest. He just sat there and nodded in agreement to whatever we said.
We would be landed at the Nairobi Syokimau SGR train station around 6.30am, where it was still drizzling. We would soon pass through the security checks, starting with the sniffer dogs, then the luggage scanner. At the train station we did self-print our tickets, then went through another security check before we were directed to the upper level passengers waiting area.
“What will you order,” someone asked. We were seated next to the big windows. Admiring the cold weather outside as we watched the travelers stream into the station. We turned back from our gaze through the windows, to notice a stretched hand with a menu. It was a waiter from one of the eateries that now had a prominent presence at this part of the station. We did not have any eateries at this section the last time I was on this level of the station. Two more such offers of the menu would be presented to us at different intervals during our one hour stay at this waiting area. We stood our ground. We did not bulge into the intimidation to buy.
The fifties
We started boarding at 7.45am. The three of us headed to coach 10 and searched for seats 52, 53 and 55. We found someone already seated on 56. The other 5 seats of the set were empty. We would end up taking seats 50 and 55 next to the window, and had a choice of another three seats at discretion, since the train was not full and six seater on our section now just had two of us per seat of three. We can thank the passengers who did not turn up, for these free seats. We would soon understand why, since as late as 8.20am when the train started easing off the platform, we could still see a few passengers running towards the check-in while flagging-down the train. What a waste of their time!
The girls would soon be busy selfie-ing and Whatsapping their every moment. On my part, I would unleash three story books and offer them to Sally. Nikki had her own book at hand, and would be starting her reading before long. Sally would pick on Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, and would soon be flipping through the pages, all smiles with each passing page. I could imagine how the story was forming up at Umuofia. I deliberately avoided Grisham’s Sycamore Row, which I have been attempting to read on such trips and never finished or never got time to have enough concentration to go through the legal prose. I would end up reading the cartoon version of the good book. I would in a moment be seeing the snake talking to the woman….
I smile with nostalgia as a remember an occasion, not so long ago, May 10 to be exact, when I had a trip with some colleagues to Makongo, a rural setting in Machakos county. On this particular occasion we would talk about this and that and at some point get into discussing religion. It just somehow become a topic.
“There is no one who is saved,” our driver declared.
“You mean, not even the bishops?,” I asked him.
“Kwanza hao ndio wabaya. Ni kondoo ngapi wamekula tukiona?”
(The are the nastiest. How many of their flock have they 'eaten'?)
At some point we would discuss the origin of the world and origin of sin.
“We are all suffering because of this fruit that Eve ate,” I would at some point contribute to the topic. By that time we were many kilometers from Nairobi. We were past Kapiti, about to turn left off Mombasa highway and start on the road to Wote.
“Do you know that the fruit is actually not the fruit?,” our driver asked the group of four in the car.
“What do you mean?,” one of the three colleagues on the back seat of this comfy Land Cruiser would ask.
The driver just took his time and let the tension build, then slightly looked back and asked the back-benchers, “You tell me, what is this fruit that is in the middle of a woman’s garden and a woman has to give to a man while she is naked?”
I have translated it, but his Kiswahili version of that question actually hit the mark.
Nine stations
I was almost laughing out loud when Sally brought me back to reality, “Where are we? We have stopped!”
The question would soon be answered on the intercom, where we were informed that we were at Emali. The time was about ten. This was the second stop after Athi River station. We would be making another five stopovers at Kibwezi, Mtito Andei, Voi, Miasenyi, Mariakani and finally would arrive at our destination at Mombasa.
This is a long journey and ultimately everybody sleeps – guaranteed. The girls were the first to let go. They would have denied it but a had photographic evidence. The tide would however turn against me when they would post a picture of me deep in slumber land in the same Whatsapp group – just to show that revenge is sweet, when served during a travel.
“Welcome to Mombasa. Be ready to disembark,” the public address announced.
“Oh my God – we have arrived in Mombasa!,” Sally shouted.
We disembarked. The gals were snapping off at every moment. Sally was especially over the moon.
But this would not last for long, since it was soon 3.00pm and we were rushing through another security checks, canines, scanners and frisking ready to get into the E1 train that was ready for us, on the very same station and platform that we had been at less than 30 minutes ago.
I relaxed for the first time when I found myself settled on seat no. 7 next to my two colleagues in 5 and 6. Sally was on the window seat at 5. I was on the isle, while Nikki settled in the middle seat. It was going to be possible to make a round-robin trip from Nairobi to Mombasa and back on the same day, only if the train would now leave… and leaving it did… at 3.20pm.
There was nothing much more to see. We had already seen it all. It would be the same stretch of rail back on the 500km journey. My story should have ended here. But it did not….
Strangers
Opposite our three-seater were the two seats at the start of the coach, numbered 1 and 2 on coach 8. On it were two strangers, just opposite us. The long journey would have a way of creating acquaintances out of us. This whiff of friendship would stretch to the next 4 seats on the other side of the isle. It just happened. And things do happen....
It started when the express train, which is supposed to be non-stop, took a stop at one intermediary station. It must have been Tsavo. We were informed that this was a forced stop to enable the other express train from Nairobi to pass by on its way to Mombasa. We know the drill. At this point the curious amongst us stand on the isle, usually phone cameras ready, so that we can capture the speed of the approaching train. Unfortunately no one gets to know when the train shall pass. You just wait and hope to get a shot at it. Alternatively, you record a long video, as long as 10 minutes, so that you can at some point capture the 10-seconds of amazement.
“Give me your phone,” I told Sally, “You need this moment.”
“Oh no! My phone is gone off! No battery.”
“Murphy’s law!? For crying out loud! What will we do?,” I helped Sally lament, “Maybe you can charge the phone?”
“Power bank also finished!,” she said.
“You could use this socket,” the stranger opposite us said, pointing at the two sockets just next to her seat. Both occupied by some charging phones.
“But the sockets are already occupied,” I beckoned.
“I know,” she said, “They have been occupied for long and I think we can use them.”
“But, do you know the owners of the phones?”
“I don’t, but they have been occupied for long. It is not fair!”
Soon, without any warning whatsoever, the approaching train just zoomed past. We hardly had a chance to capture it. It was completely gone in 5 seconds.
“Oh hech,” I shouted, “Now the train is gone!”
“I captured it,” another passenger seated on the 2-seater side, next to the window had overheard our conversation and volunteered this information.
“Would you mind sharing?,” we asked, almost in unison.
“Are you paying?,” she started, a big smile on her face, then continued, “Sure, Why not? You have Bluetooth?”
Both our phones were off. We would have to rely on the lady on our side of the seats to help us get the video from the lady on the opposite side of the train.
The elephant
When our express resumed the journey, we found ourselves just conversing amongst ourselves with the two strangers opposite us. One of them now had a priceless video that we needed, transmitted to her on our behalf by wireless technology. It was to our advantage that we engage. The other lady also seemed interested in our conversations and just joined in, though the two of them had been conversing for a long time amongst themselves. The five of us would soon be in deep discussion.
Many subjects would be on offer. But the lack of power on our phones, and lack of sockets to charge them became the basis of most conversations.
“Give me that feedback form located behind you,” I asked Winnie, who was seated just opposite me on the two seater. She looked behind her head and saw the holder.
“Why? What for?,” she had a way of welcoming strangers.
“I need to give feedback. We can’t be suffering lack of sockets yet some people are filing in their power banks on the only 2 sockets available on this 118 passenger coach!”
An attendant of the SGR train overhead us. She volunteered to give me a pen, but would give a few pleadings before releasing the pen.
“You know how passengers are,” she informed our group of five, “If you remove their charging phones they shall make lots of noise. They do not want to share with others. I wish there was something that we could do.”
“You could allocate time, say 30 minutes per charging,” Winnie volunteered.
“Yep, such could do,” I supported the idea.
“Maybe,” Chebby said, “But passengers are difficult I tell you. We get it rough when they report us to supervisors”
I assumed her name from the tag that she wore.
Her voice was so pleading that I decided not to fill in the 2-page survey, which Winnie had slowly and reluctantly handed over to me a few minutes before.
“We usually have some elephants along the route, since we are passing though our national game park. Tsavo game park is the name,” I updated Sally.
“But I see nothing?”
“Just wait, you shall see.”
“There they are!,” the lady who had taken the video of the express pointed out on her side of the window.
Sally glanced over to the opposite side of the isle, “Oh my God! Elephants!! I see them. Very big!!”
“But we have no phone. Our batteries have run out!,” I shouted our predicament.
It would be Winnie’s turn to come to the rescue by taking some pictures of the big beasts and would equally volunteer to Bluetooth them to Nikki’s phone – the only phone from the three of us that was still surviving. Win’s reluctance had now been broken and was progressively becoming friendlier.
“They used to announce such game siting on the public address,” I complained loudly.
“Seems that they do not do that anymore,” Win joined in, “That is not fair. The crew on duty today do not seem very friendly.”
Chebby, who was generally operating next to our seating position, would again volunteer her customer service by informing us that crews and briefings are different, and hence experiences could be different. She told us of the 3-day one-trip per day schedule followed by a rest-day and the impact that this may have on a crew’s temperament.
“It is not deliberate,” she came to the rescue of the person on public address, “One can get tired, despite the best of intentions.”
Win was already thinking of exploiting such ‘rest-days’ by doing two jobs at the same time. She said as much in the course of conversation.
“This questionnaire shall still need to be filled for feedback, though the questions as so many!,” I lamented to the group of five on my side of the train.
“Those are surely few for someone like you,” Winnie said, “You seem to be someone who learned at the ‘group of schools’”
“But how did you know?,” I asked, amidst laughter from the rest of the quintet.
Another elephant
We would at some point discuss politics. We would discuss corruption. We discussed the new currency and the soon to be retired 1,000/= notes. The elephant that symbolized the 1k note would soon be extinct. There were no holds barred and the debate was as heated and as noisy as it could be. I would be telling the group that corruption was good, since we were direct beneficiaries of corruption such as the SGR train that we were now riding on.
Winnie’s friend, whom we shall call ‘the economist’, since she told us as much, would soon be analyzing the currency situation and saying that the withdrawal of that particular bank note was good for the economy. I was of an opposing view. Of course there was a suit challenging this withdrawal of currency, and memes were doing round about how this note shall be so useless from Nov. 1 that it shall be used to light up fires.
Win did not seem to have a stand on this topic. If anything, she said that she shall keep one of the notes as a souvenir. Nikki was not sure which way out, though she swore that she can never ‘souv’ a 1k note. Sally was just quiet, about to look at the enveloping darkness that was now starting to spew from the large windows.
“They should have withdrawn the whole ‘group of notes’, instead of just the one thousand,” I told the rest.
They laughed out loud. They got the joke.
We finally reached Nairobi at exactly 8.20pm.
“Oh my God! We are back to Nairobi!,” Sally shouted out, “This was best holiday ever. I must come back to Mombasa!”
“I shall miss you guys,” Win said as she gathered her three pieces of luggage, about to head to the exit.
“We too,” I said on behalf of my trio, as I volunteered to help her with one of the luggage pieces, out of the train.
“We made a really good ‘group of friends’,” I said amidst progressive laughter as the five of us got the gist, as we headed out of the station.
“Hey there!,” we heard a shout from behind.
We all looked back to notice a familiar figure from the train.
“You people were so noisy!,” she said, “I like your group.”
“But we just met!?,” the Economist said, “And I am now leaving to catch that train,” she pointed to the old train that was about to depart from an opposite platform to head to the city centre.
“Let me take a selfie with you people,” the stranger said, “I shall remember you guys forever.”
But before she could snap up the groupie, the train that she was to get into started leaving. She ran away to try and catchup on it, but it was too late.
We walked out of the station to the parking yard, where our taxi, the very same one from the morning was waiting for us.
“You mean that you and ‘the economist’ did not know each other?,” it was Nikki’s time to wonder following the events of the last few minutes.
“No,” Win confirmed, “I also just met her on the train.”
WWB, Nairobi Kenya, June 9, 2019.
