The accidental 42, on the day that I was out

The accidental 42, on the day that I was out

I was not looking forward to this run.  I did not want to do this run.  I was forcing myself into this run.  The reason for the run being that this would be the last opportunity for a long run this week.  The run should have been held on Monday, but nature had its plan for that Monday.  It rained most day and it rained at four-thirty in the evening, just when I should have started the run.  The run had to be cancelled.  I could not do this run on Tuesday, since I already had students lined up for their day of run, which I could not reschedule, nor was I ready to disappoint my loyal students.  

Of course, the students tend to disappoint me and waste some of my evenings – and feel nothing about it.  Take for example that Tuesday, two weeks ago, when I was waiting for student Sharon while she was in a meeting that dragged on until after six.  Then one week ago the same lightning struck twice on similar circumstances.  I was not holding my breath on yesterday’s Tuesday students run.  It was sounding like cancelled.  If anything, Sharon even called to confirm that ‘it was too late for a run’, being just five-ten.

“You are joking, right?,” I spoke to the mouthpiece.

“Si ma-time zime enda sana.  We shall not make it to the tarmac.”

“Forget tarmac.  We only need an hour to make it to the river and back.”

“So, you mean tunaenda?”

“Of course.  The weather is just perfect.  And a new student, Fatuma is joining too.”

“So, for sure tunaenda?  Do I change?”

“Go ahead and change.  Take your time.  Let us meet at the gate starting point at five-thirty.”

That forced run therefore took place and it went well.  The students were happy to have conquered that infamous two-kilometre hill from the river to Ndumbo on our way back.  I was also glad that the third Tuesday had actually materialized.

Come Wednesday, today, and I was on the last possible day to do the run.  Thursdays and Fridays now also belong to students.  My days of free runs are now only on Mondays and Wednesdays.  The run had to be done today… or not at all until next week.

I had already walked 15k, from Kawangware to Waithaka and back to Uthiru, as I went to the Government offices to process some license.  Another ‘here and there’ walks had already taken about 2km already.  And…. Government offices have a reputation for keeping things as ‘ancient’ as they can.  Call it conservation?  I went to an office with an old chair reserved for the occupant.  An equally old wooden seat awaited the single visitor, me in this case.  The desk was some old wooden thing that had now lost balance and outlived its lives.  

Across my seat was a bench, along the wooden interior wall of the iron sheet structure.  The wooden interior was deteriorated in most places, and the external iron sheet wall was visible.  The very iron sheet that was torn at places and I could see the light from external seeping in through the sheet and wood.  The wooden bench was the simple type.  The type that you see in lower primary school (and some churches).  It was old, with cobwebs underneath and looked unstable and uncomfortable.

Behind the officer, on the extreme wall, hardly a metre from her seat, were some files stacked in a pile on some old shelf.  The files looked old, dusty and untouched for ages.  To the left of the officer was a four-drawer metallic cabinet.  It had seen better days.  It was… eh… need I say, old?  It was meant to be locked by some long metallic bar that should run the full height of the cabinet.  That metallic bar was now bent from disuse.  I suspect that at some point the lock was lost and the bar was bent open.  It remained bent since then.

The officer would soon fidget into the second-from-top drawer, which could hardly open quarter way out due to that metallic bar that remained obstructing the drawers.  She finally managed to extract a receipt book, after some long struggle wadding through the dark drawer.  She was just taking a seat when she realized that she did not have a pen.  She started fidgeting into that drawer once more.  Finally, a pen was found and she resumed her seat ready to write.  Alas!  Bad things usually come in doubles and so she realized that the pen was not writing, after trying to scribble endlessly on the paper that I had earlier handed over.  She would soon stand up once more to fidget into that drawer once more.  She found a second pen, took her seat and tried the new pen.  It accepted to write, just accepted to write.

She was just about to start writing the receipt when her cellphone rang.  She would soon be lost into animated discussion with some ‘dadangu’.  They talked, they laughed, I sat waiting.  I know the drill – sit still, do nothing and pretend that you are hearing nothing.  She would attempt to write, while the phone was pinned between her ear and left shoulder.  She wrote and talked – at least she could multitask.  A man could never have been able to achieve such a feat.  But serving two usually means hating one.  The one hated in this occasion turned out to be my receipt, since she would soon write a wrong detail.

“Twenty-twenty-two, not twenty-twenty,” I whispered.

She continued talking while looking at me in a manner of ‘what do you mean?’

I pointed at the receipt, “Twenty-twenty-two, not twenty-twenty,” I repeated the whisper.

She saw the error, even as she kept talking on the phone.  She would momentarily cross the erroneous figure and write the correct figure just alongside.  She continued talking, ‘dadangu’ punctuating every sentence.

I would soon get the receipt stamped, an old wooden stamp, first inked on some old inkpad, then struck hard on the receipt.  That stamping also marked the end of the call, and so I was able to get the receipt plucked from the book, after the carbon paper had been moved to the next receipt on the book.  I got up and left.  Outside the iron sheet structure of an office, which had surely outlived its life, was a more modern building, where several ‘Huduma numbers - collection’ notices had been pasted on walls and windows.  A crowd of mostly young people, mostly men, milled around the door.  Most did not have their face masks.  They chatted animatedly and did not have a care in the world.  The office did not seem to be in a hurry to serve them either.

That is how I ended up walking back to Uthiru, arriving just before two.  I knew that in about two hours I would be out again for the long run.  The very long run that I was not ready for.  The run that I did not look forward to.  The run that I was forced to do on this Wednesday, as the last chance for this run in the week.

It was four before I knew it and I started the run.  My strategy was just to survive until ‘the tank’.  The run would be made or broken when I make that right turn at the tank and start the five-kilometre run on Kanyariri road all the way to Gitaru market.  That was my target.  Get to the tank, try that stretch of uphill and if I managed it, then the run would have been conquered.  I had have been on this route weekly and that make-or-break section remains the M-O-B part.  This is the section that had helped in ‘making’ the time, two weeks ago, when I did the sub-5.  On that day, I was just perfect on this section and was even sprinting when I turned back and was on the downhill back to Ndumbo.  Last week the M-O-B part was not very bad.  My average was just almost the same as that record.  I did a 5min 5 sec average.

Today would be different.  I was tired ab-initio.  I was not going to break any records.  If anything, I was afraid that the M-O-B part would be a ‘B’ today.  Anyway, the run had to be done and I started off well.  My mind was just focused on how I shall feel when I hit the tank, then M-O-B.  That is all that mattered on this Wednesday.

Even COVID-19 cases did not seem to matter on this evening.  I already knew that the worldwide cases were 112M.  112,638,446 to be exact*.  These are just numbers that are forced onto your daily life since everything screams these numbers to you, from radio announcements, news on television, internet web pages tickers on top and bottom of pages, even pop-ups scream these numbers on you daily.  The global fatalities had now hit 2.5M.  2,502,894 to be exact.  Kenya, like the rest of the world was being affected, despite the new normal.  Our numbers were now 104,780 and 1,839 respectively.  

*source: worldometers

It was however no longer all gloom.  Vaccines were already in distribution and in use.  Life shall be back to the ‘old normal’ soon.  This ‘new normal’ was a mistake and should not be allowed to persist for long.  Just look around at how people ‘abuse’ masks and ‘redefine’ social distance, to be convinced that the new normal cannot work.  I would soon start meeting students as I ran down Kapenguria road, the same road section where I had just been with Sharon and Fatuma the previous day.  They did not look like they knew anything called corona existed.  They were not alone.  Most people that I met were taking the ‘new normal’ same as they did the ‘old normal’ – behaving as if nothing had changed.

I kept running, waiting for that M-O-B point, but with nothing to do for about fifty minutes before that point, my mind kept wondering back to how the day had been.  I was taken aback to Kawangware centre.  That place is a mess!  Matatus stop in the middle of the road and take their sweet time to drop, look for and pick passengers.  They block kilometres of traffic on both directions of the road and feel nothing about it.  The roads have now been expanded with pedestrian walkways on each side.  

However, there is no celebration from pedestrians, since these newly paved walkways have now been taken over by the hawkers.  The pedestrians are now back to compete with vehicles on the main roads.  It is a mess I told you!  Impunity of the highest order!  Walking is even faster than being stuck in those traffic jams – but more dangerous, since pedestrians have to walk in the middle of the road and survive the vehicles.  Lo and behold if a cop was to appear!  A matatu would rather run you over than face the cops!  Impunity!

I was still on nostalgia when I finally reached the tank.  I was now going for that right turn on Kanyariri road and would now head generally uphill all the way to Gitaru market.  This was the M-O-B point, leading to the M-O-B section.  Survive this uphill and the run is conquered.  Fail on this and your run is done.  The section was tough as my legs were a bit weak already.  However, I had already survived 10k and another 10k circuit was now doable.  

I was now back to full alertness.  I had been running through the generally deserted roads from Ndumbo down Kapenguria road, through Mary Leakey and the university farm.  That section had less traffic.  The university farm in particular had nobody at all.  It was just runner and road.  It was quiet.  There was no worry or need for alertness.  Now I was back to the fairly busy Kapenguria road.  The many potholes meant that vehicles and motorbikes were jostling for the same ‘good’ road space just like the runners and pedestrians.  All senses had to be alert.  I kept going and the legs kept getting tired with every step.

I finally got to the newly build Gitaru-Wangige road.  That would be my turning point and I would now run back, generally downhill all the way to Ndumbo river.  A final kilometre of uphill to Ndumbo market was now the only obstacle on my way.  The downhill was manageable, but the legs kept getting tired.  I just wished that I would ‘somehow’ finish the run, before I was finished!  I kept getting tired with every step and reduced speed with every kick.  I have never been this tired!

I kept going and would finally, ‘somehow’, reach the finish line.  I was not only collapsing from the tiredness at the finish line, my thirst was overwhelming.  I took a litre of diluted soda, ratio 300ml water to 700ml water.  I took that in almost one gulp.  It did not quench the thirst.  I took two cups of tea soon after – they did not lessen the thirst.  

I took another many cups of water but no additional intake did anything to my thirst.  I was surely ‘finished’ by these walks and runs of this day.  Those 16k of walks of earlier in the day, added to this 26.6k of the evening had just turned out to be a full marathon – and the feeling was the same – tired, thirsty, finished and wishing that you never did the run.  Even the average of 5min 10sec for the run did nothing to brighten the day.  I remained tired, thirsty and finished.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, 24-Feb-2021

Running to get service – My Huduma number story

Running to get service – My Huduma number story

When I queued at the local administrator’s office in Uthiru on that bright April morning, the twenty-sixth to be exact, I was just fulfilling a government directive.  At that time, in 2019, all citizens had been directed to apply for their huduma numbers by June or face the consequence of not accessing government services.  To sweeten the threat, we had been warned that those without the ‘number’ would wish that they had it when the numbers are eventually issued later that year.  I did not want to ‘wish’ and with nothing to lose anyway, I found myself going through the motions of registration.

The registration process was simple enough – fill in a 2-page form with details of all your existing documents, including national ID, NSSF, NHIF, passport, residence, employment, family and then present the form to the attendant for data capture.  After that, the various documents would be scanned, your picture taken, then an acknowledge slip would be issued.  In my case the tablet computer in use even stopped working midway through the process, forcing a reboot of the gadget, followed by a restart of the lengthy process of data capture.  There was no partial and progressive saving of information.  It was an all-or-nothing operation.  However, I finally left the chief’s compound with the thin long strip titled ‘Acknowledgement Slip’.

Then, 2019 came, matured and went.  Life was back to normal and the huduma number thing was soon forgotten.  There was no mention of the cards that should have been issued at the end of year.  I even went on a sojourn to the north pole and back, while the status of huduma remained unknown.  If anything, the year was coming to an end and the only matter of concern was the new ailment being noted in China around December as the year was coming to an end.  By January of 2020, the new ailment that was affecting the respiratory system and starting to kill people was given the name Severe acute respiratory syndrome version 2 corona virus disease of 2019 or ‘SARS-2-COVID19’.

And once it was let loose, the Corona virus started to spread furiously around the world and continued to cause COVID19 in its wake.  It was in the February that the first case was reported in Kenya and the country immediately shut down schools and colleges, and sent learners home in the middle of their school session.  Employees were asked to consider working from home.  A never-before seen curfew was imposed from 6.00pm to next day 5.00am.  We lived in the fear of the unknown most of 2020.  Nairobi would soon be completely shut off from the rest of the counties, with travel to and from the city outlawed.  This was in an effort to contain the spread of the corona virus to just within its borders and prevent the virus from jumping out onto other counties.  By this time, Huduma was out, corona was in.

It was towards July that travel in and out of the city of Nairobi was lifted and people started moving about.  Nighttime curfews remained, though the timing had been moved to nine, and even later to ten, though schools remained shut.  Eateries and bars remained closed for many months, while work from home become the norm.  Some businesses closed forever due to the effects of reduced business hours, supply chain problems, reduced customers and lack of business altogether.  Such business included schools that remained shut since February and retail outlets, such as Tuskys, which would later blame reduced numbers as a cause for its woes.  There was no thinking about it…. Huduma was out, corona was in.

It was not until September that schools and colleges started opening up.  Wearing of face masks continued being a statutory requirement at all public places.  Even runners had to adorn such masks while running on public roads.  Handwashing, hand sanitization and social distancing become buzz words.  Mass events, including religious, political and sporting were postponed or cancelled altogether.  

Even the Standard Chartered Nairobi International marathon that had be held consistently for over 15 years in the month of October had to be cancelled.  Prior to this, the Mater Heart run of May, that was also an over 15-years event had been cancelled.  All major mass events in the international arena were cancelled, including the football leagues and even the Olympic games that had been scheduled for Japan in 2020.  Among the words in the vocabulary at this point in time… Huduma was out, corona was in.

The year 2020 would come to an end with, having started with zero COVID cases, according to official WHO records and ending with 84million worldwide infections.  The year 2020 that had started with zero COVID-19 deaths, would end with 1.8million deaths globally.  The year that started with zero cases in Kenya, would end with 96,614 infections and 1,681 deaths – that included several prominent public figures.  A new disease had just taken root and it was killing 2% of those it infects.  The new disease had forced the closure of several sectors of global economies, including sports, tourism and travel.  Huduma was by now forgotten, corona was in everybody’s way.

The year would also begin with good news in the vaccines front, with new vaccines, developed in record time of under one year, being released for public use to mitigate the corona virus.  Three frontline contenders in the name of Pfizer-BionTec, AstraZeneca and Moderna would have vaccines their vaccines available for distribution and use.  Other vaccines also came up in Russia and China for inoculation against COVID19.  

The year started with a promise of mass vaccinations, though it was a long-way-off promise especially for the continent of Africa.  Even our own country indicated that the vaccines would only be available for prioritized distribution to the critical workforce such as security forces, health workers and teachers, then the elderly and the sick.  This would be the target areas when it lays hands on 24-million vaccine doses anytime from February.  We started living the ‘new normal’, read, ‘living with corona’.  After all, even if the vaccines get home, some people still not it anyway.  Huduma was now completely off the records, while corona was setting the records.

The ‘forgotten’ came knocking when I got that SMS on January 10, 2021…

Dear me, your Huduma Card is ready.  Visit https [link details] to select your pick-up point.  For enquiry call 0800221111. STOP*456*9*5#

“This cannot be true!,” I shouted out loud when I saw this message at almost ten in the night.  

I would forget about it until the next day when I opened up the link details on a computer and for sure found a query form.  There were three questions, requiring one to pick the county from a dropdown list, followed by sub-county, then the collection point.  I ended up selecting KAWANGWARE as the collection point.  

There was no detail on which particular location in Kawangware, but it sounded logical enough as a pickup point.  I submitted the form and got a confirmation that I had successfully updated my pickup address as Kawangware and that my card would be ready for collection within the next 21-days.  The message promised that I would receive yet another SMS notification once the card was available.

I was to have the card on Jan. 31.  I started the waiting.  It was not to be, since I had not yet received any SMS notification by Jan. 31.  I started accepting that this was part of the same old ‘promises unkept’ that had become the huduma story.  

It was not until Feb. 10 that I finally got that SMS… 

Dear me, your Huduma Card S/No: [serial number] has been delivered to NAIROBI-KAWANGWARE Office. For enquiry, call 0800221111

The message did not have anything like ‘come pick it’, nope, it just that stated that the card had been delivered (do what you want).  It was not until yesterday, Friday, Feb. 12 that I decided to look for the Kawangware office and pick my card.  With no indication as to where the office was, I had no choice but to call the Oo-Eight-hundred number to ask for the directions to the collection point.  I was surprised that the number was in operation, as some very polite person on the other end of the line directed me to the District Commissioners office on Naivasha road.

“Remember to carry your original ID, and have the SMS message,” she concluded.

It took some asking around to get to the DC’s office, since it was not strictly on Naivasha road.  It was the Chief’s office that was on Naivasha road.  I had to take a diversion and walk about four hundred metres to the get to the DC’s place.  When there, the printed papers pasted on the walls and windows directed me straight to the collection point.  I only handed over my ID and within a few minutes the attendant was flipping through what looked like one-million cards, tied with rubber bands in bundles of probably one-hundred cards.  I have never seen such many cards!  No wonder there was that news item that Kenyans had ‘refused’ to collect their cards.

I would momentarily be studying the card.  The same that was almost two-years overdue.  The Huduma card is exactly same size as the national ID card – ATM card size.  It replicates the information as exactly as they are on the national ID card.  If anything, the card is even branded as ‘National Identity Card’.  The only difference is that it has a chip, it has not signature… and the photo is coloured.  Make no mistake about this, the Huduma card shall replace the national ID – but do not take my word for it – the government had indicated that intention from day 1.  It is just becoming true before our very eyes.

But it did not take long before I started getting SMSs from entities that should not be having my contact information in the first place…

From Nrbservices… Do you own land in Nairobi? Pay your land rates immediately

I swear that I have never shared my details with Nrb.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Feb. 13, 2021.

Be ready to take the feel-good train… when it comes

Be ready to take the feel-good train… when it comes

I could just feel it.  This was the day that a record would be broken.  I was on top of a ‘feel good’ state, which just possessed me on this day.  My body was just perfect as I started the run.  The day would have been better had there been no corona that was causing this COVID19 thing.  Since morning I had been bombarded with the COVID numbers - 106,821,217 worldwide infections* with 2,330,285 deaths and 78,567,302 recoveries.  This represented a mortality rate of 2.18%.  At position 81, ranked by total infections, Kenya's numbers were 101,944 with 1,786 deaths and 84,473 recoveries, hence a mortality rate of 1.75%.  

*source: worldometers

However, the news media was now also starting to have an element of good news as vaccines were now becoming common use intervention in almost all continents.  Even South Africa was now starting its vaccination campaigns based on Astra Zeneca vaccine, despite SA having been the origin of the new ‘South African variant’ of a new corona strain.  So, the virus was mutating, but vaccines were also already in use.  This corona thing shall be gone, as I keep saying, and… gone soon.

Ok, let corona be for now.  Back to my feel-good moment this Monday.  I knew that it shall be a good run the moment I took that first step at about 4.45pm.  My body was just in good form.  I did not feel any of those discomforts that have plagued each of my runs since January.  I have previously had some form of discomfort during each of my runs, starting from stomach pains to leg pains, headaches to upper body stiffness.  But today, I did not feel any of that.

I set off and knew at that point that I was going to have the best run ever.  The weather was also perfect.  It had rained in the night and drizzled during part of the day.  There was no rain in the evening, but the sun had been completely blocked out by the rain clouds that remained prevalent on the sky.  I had a feeling that it would probably rain at some point in the evening, maybe even during the run, but I was not worried about being rained on.  Let it happen.  I was not going to waste this beautiful weather due to worry over the unknown.

I was crossing Waiyaki way after about fifteen minutes of run.  I could feel that my pace was faster.  That stretch of the highway to Ndumbo stage that would usually ‘get to me’ on other occasions was just a breeze on this day.  I was soon past Ndumbo, with all its matatu and boda commotions.  I was heading down Kapenguria road past Wangari Maathai institute and past the river.  I ran through the hill to Lower Kabete road without much ado.  I was just top notch on this day.  I wondered why this was so.

Could it be the feel-good due to the book launch that I had attended the previous day at Karasani?  When my niece Eddah was unveiling her second book ‘Shekinah Glory’, a daily devotional book, with a big acknowledgement given to me as her favourite uncle?  What was it with me today?  Could it be that I had just taken wimbi uji and nothing else since morning, and that it was having a cleansing effect on my system?  I just did not know what today was all about, since I just kept running and was soon done with the slight uphill on Lower Kabete road and diverted to my left to Mary Leakey route and then would be running across the university farm.  

I emerged at ‘the tank’ and joined Kanyariri road by a right turn.  I started feeling a slight bout of tiredness as I faced this stretch of road towards Kanyariri shopping centre, however, this setback would be short lived as I regained my energy levels as the hill progressed towards Gitaru market.  I did a U-turn at Gitaru market and started on the downhill on the same Kanyariri road.  I would soon be overtaken by some other runner, who shouted back, “Strong!”

I must have taken this comment seriously, since I would get my ‘strong’ on the legs and started sprinting down the road, overtaking him in less than a minute, since he had somehow decided to also either reduce his speed or had been showing off with his overtaking and had burnt out.  I was not to see or hear his footsteps behind me anymore.  I kept the downhill sprint, even as I met the many students in small groups, in their green uniforms taking over all of the road.  I suspect that they must have been from the Kanyariri High school, just besides the road.  I overtook them and kept my run.

I was now just looking forward to that last hill towards Ndumbo market.  That was the only hurdle on my way to the finish line.  My conquest on that hill would make this already good run even better.  I started that hill by following some other runner who was ahead but only for a moment.  I would soon overtake him on the hill.  One thing about overtaking a runner on a hill is that you really need to be sure that you want to do that.  A hill makes you run slow to start with, and at the same time, you need to run fast enough to overtake and stay ahead of the person that you have overtaken.  Get your timing wrong and you shall burnout your chest, at the expense of the runner that you intended to overtake.

I had already known this fact, so I just had to assimilate to some comfortable uphill pace and steadily overtook the runner.  I did not even look back.  The hill was already frying my legs and I did not want to do anything silly like try to accelerate because the runner was on my back, no, I just looked ahead and maintained my steady uphill pace.  I would soon not hear the footsteps which I had heard struggling behind me for about twenty metres after overtaking.  I was now on my own, ready to pass through the busy Ndumbo roadside market and then be out of that crazy place with matatus, bodas, people, traders and sundry.

I was finally out of Ndumbo and onto the Waiyaki way.  I would run about half a kilometre before crossing over the mid-road barrier to join the road that passes besides Kabete Poly.  For the first time I felt some lethargy creeping into my legs.  I could feel the pressure and pain on my knees and calves.  The run had gotten the better of me.  It was now a struggle to just keep running.  I was now just wishing for the finish line, which was not yet in sight, if anything, I still had about ten minutes of run.  From this point on, with the legs aching as they were, I would just have to rely on willpower to finish this run.  It had started well, but the end was torturous.

Those last ten minutes were just pure hell, but I went through and managed to finish the run just before 7.00pm.  The stats proved that today was the best run day ever – I clocked an average pace of 4.54min, the first time I had hit a sub-5 maybe in 6-months?  I would have to check that, but it is long since I saw a sub-5 on my records.  Let the legs ache, let the headache afflict me, I do not care for now.  Let me continue riding the feel-good train.  I do not know when I shall get on board such a train again.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Feb. 8, 2021