Unlocking the locked runner… really?
Mondays are run days. I therefore had no choice but to be ready for this run over the lunch hour. I was quite rested after 2-days of no runs. I was ready for this run – just another Monday run. This run also coincided with the staggering numbers of COVID19 infections – 11,630,803 with 538,177 deaths worldwide with the motherland having 8,067 cases with 164 deaths, as per worldometers stats.
I was also aware that Kenya would be making an announcement on what next, following the expiry of the three-month lockdown from leaving the city and dusk-to-dawn curfew. We were to know whether we would face a fourth month locked in or we would finally be let free. I was not holding my breath on this. If anything, I was expecting an extension of the lockdown and curfew, based on the rising number of infections locally and internationally.
I started the run at 12.55pm. The weather was good, meaning no sunshine and not cold either. The cloud cover formed a big umbrella shielding us from the sun even as I started the run. I was relaxed and well rested as I did this run. It was a good feeling. My mind was generally blank. I was repeating the Friday route, which was now well etched into my memory. I could even close my eyes and run this half marathon and navigate through the whole circuit.
I was soon at Ndumbo stage, passing by as I heard the various radios from motorbikes, kiosks, parked vehicles, moving vehicles and all…. “Fellow Kenyans….”
I could not hear the rest since I was already past all these collection of radios in a moment and was now running down towards Wangari Maathai institute, then towards the river, ready for the uphill towards KAGRI.
As I passed KAGRI towards the Lower Kabete tarmac, I got to the collection of three or so motorbikes parked at the road junction. Two people were seated on a bench, just next to the bikes besides the road. They were playing draughts, with the radios on…. “… this pandemic…” is all I heard as I passed by and turned left ready for the uphill towards the Mary Leakey turnoff.
Mondays are run days. I therefore had no choice but to be ready for this run over the lunch hour. I was quite rested after 2-days of no runs. I was ready for this run – just another Monday run. This run also coincided with the staggering numbers of COVID19 infections – 11,630,803 with 538,177 deaths worldwide with the motherland having 8,067 cases with 164 deaths, as per worldometers stats.
I was also aware that Kenya would be making an announcement on what next, following the expiry of the three-month lockdown from leaving the city and dusk-to-dawn curfew. We were to know whether we would face a fourth month locked in or we would finally be let free. I was not holding my breath on this. If anything, I was expecting an extension of the lockdown and curfew, based on the rising number of infections locally and internationally.
I started the run at 12.55pm. The weather was good, meaning no sunshine and not cold either. The cloud cover formed a big umbrella shielding us from the sun even as I started the run. I was relaxed and well rested as I did this run. It was a good feeling. My mind was generally blank. I was repeating the Friday route, which was now well etched into my memory. I could even close my eyes and run this half marathon and navigate through the whole circuit.
I was soon at Ndumbo stage, passing by as I heard the various radios from motorbikes, kiosks, parked vehicles, moving vehicles and all…. “Fellow Kenyans….”
I could not hear the rest since I was already past all these collection of radios in a moment and was now running down towards Wangari Maathai institute, then towards the river, ready for the uphill towards KAGRI.
As I passed KAGRI towards the Lower Kabete tarmac, I got to the collection of three or so motorbikes parked at the road junction. Two people were seated on a bench, just next to the bikes besides the road. They were playing draughts, with the radios on…. “… this pandemic…” is all I heard as I passed by and turned left ready for the uphill towards the Mary Leakey turnoff.
It is at this very junction while turning left that some minute insect got into my left nostril – just like that! Out of nowhere!
“Atchoooo!”
Nothing doing.
The nostril remained itchy, but I kept going towards the Mary Leakey turnoff about two minutes away.
At the turnoff, I got those vehicles that have now been turned into market stalls, with all manner of groceries and fruits on display and sale, within and on top of the vehicles. Their radios were on, with the few people around the vehicles – buyers and sellers – continuing their chat. I am not even sure if they were listening, but the sound was loud enough… “… gender-based…” I heard as I passed them on that left turn.
I was now going towards Mary Leakey school and soon towards the river on the dry weather road. It was a bit deserted, save for one bike that passed me by, going same direction. Its radio was on... “… fellow Kenyans…” the bike was already gone way ahead, and I could not get anymore of the sound.
Soon I was taking the right turn that gets you ready to face the university farm. It would take about ten minutes to run through this trail to emerge at the Kanyariri tarmac road. This section of the road would usually not have anyone – and it did not disappoint on this day – there was no one through the almost ten-minute run. There was no radio sound at all on this footpath… in fact no sound at all. It was quite quiet!
Many “Atchoooos!” later and that nitwit finally got out of my nostril just in time to enable me breath freely enough in preparation to hit the tarmac at ‘the tank’.
I turned right at the tank, to join the Kanyariri tarmac where I would run for about fifteen minutes, before making a U-turn. At this ‘the tank’ turnoff, I saw one motorbike parked just besides the road on the newly constructed shed. The radio was on, “… wakenya wenzangu…”
I was already too gone to hear any more, as I faced this road that is usually generally deserted. You encounter very few vehicles. None of the vehicles that pass by had their radios on, hence I did not get much more news on this day when we expected the ‘big’ announcement on what happens next after 3-months of lockdown.
There were no more radio announcements by the time I got to Kanyariri shopping centre. If anything, I just heard some music coming out of the various radio items that adorned that part of the geography – be it from inside shops, from the passing motorbikes or from the walkers. Either these people did not give-a-dee about the announcement, or the announcement was over.
I would not get to know the final decision of announcement while on the run, not with these two-word sounds that I was getting over time. I was soon doing the U-turn and started my run back on Kanyariri road tarmac, enjoying the downhill all the way to Ndumbo river, then a short uphill to Ndumbo centre, then to Waiyaki way and finally, crossing the Waiyaki at Kabete Poly ready for the home run.
I had to run some errands immediately after the lunch-hour run, hence did not have any time to check on what the verdict of the powers were, on whether we would be having a fourth month confined in the city or not. It would soon be evening, and the local news was quite clear on what had happened – lockdown is off, curfew is still on, with effect from July 7. I did not have a reaction. I did not know how to react. After over 90-days of restricted movement, I was not sure of what this new status would mean.
WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 6, 2020
“Atchoooo!”
Nothing doing.
The nostril remained itchy, but I kept going towards the Mary Leakey turnoff about two minutes away.
At the turnoff, I got those vehicles that have now been turned into market stalls, with all manner of groceries and fruits on display and sale, within and on top of the vehicles. Their radios were on, with the few people around the vehicles – buyers and sellers – continuing their chat. I am not even sure if they were listening, but the sound was loud enough… “… gender-based…” I heard as I passed them on that left turn.
I was now going towards Mary Leakey school and soon towards the river on the dry weather road. It was a bit deserted, save for one bike that passed me by, going same direction. Its radio was on... “… fellow Kenyans…” the bike was already gone way ahead, and I could not get anymore of the sound.
Soon I was taking the right turn that gets you ready to face the university farm. It would take about ten minutes to run through this trail to emerge at the Kanyariri tarmac road. This section of the road would usually not have anyone – and it did not disappoint on this day – there was no one through the almost ten-minute run. There was no radio sound at all on this footpath… in fact no sound at all. It was quite quiet!
Many “Atchoooos!” later and that nitwit finally got out of my nostril just in time to enable me breath freely enough in preparation to hit the tarmac at ‘the tank’.
I turned right at the tank, to join the Kanyariri tarmac where I would run for about fifteen minutes, before making a U-turn. At this ‘the tank’ turnoff, I saw one motorbike parked just besides the road on the newly constructed shed. The radio was on, “… wakenya wenzangu…”
I was already too gone to hear any more, as I faced this road that is usually generally deserted. You encounter very few vehicles. None of the vehicles that pass by had their radios on, hence I did not get much more news on this day when we expected the ‘big’ announcement on what happens next after 3-months of lockdown.
There were no more radio announcements by the time I got to Kanyariri shopping centre. If anything, I just heard some music coming out of the various radio items that adorned that part of the geography – be it from inside shops, from the passing motorbikes or from the walkers. Either these people did not give-a-dee about the announcement, or the announcement was over.
I would not get to know the final decision of announcement while on the run, not with these two-word sounds that I was getting over time. I was soon doing the U-turn and started my run back on Kanyariri road tarmac, enjoying the downhill all the way to Ndumbo river, then a short uphill to Ndumbo centre, then to Waiyaki way and finally, crossing the Waiyaki at Kabete Poly ready for the home run.
I had to run some errands immediately after the lunch-hour run, hence did not have any time to check on what the verdict of the powers were, on whether we would be having a fourth month confined in the city or not. It would soon be evening, and the local news was quite clear on what had happened – lockdown is off, curfew is still on, with effect from July 7. I did not have a reaction. I did not know how to react. After over 90-days of restricted movement, I was not sure of what this new status would mean.
WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 6, 2020
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