Being conned twice in one run… before running gets cancelled anyway

Being conned twice in one run… before running gets cancelled anyway

Nairobi is not called Nairoberry for nothing.  It lived true to its name today, Friday, March 26, 2021, when I was on my way to Adams arcade.  I took the first matatu at Uthiru and things did not seem right from the moment I stepped into that matatu.  We had the usual social-distanced seating, with a free seat between passengers, before that was quickly overlooked, and the vessel was packed full as usual.

It did not take long before my fears were confirmed.  The conductor would momentarily ask passengers for fare, of which I gave out a one-hundred shillings note.  The recipient did not give me back my seventy-shillings, and so I did beckon him to do so.  He proceeded to give me only twenty-shillings then started an animated conversation with some passenger seated behind him, who was in front of my sitting position at the backseat.  I beckoned him a second time and reminded him that he was yet to give me the full amount.

“Najua nina finje yako, siwezi enda na doo zako, manze,” the ruffian in him responded.  

His eyes were bloodshot red.  His hair was shaggy.  I could have judged him for a bad thug, had it not been for the semblance of dark brown overcoat that he had adorned, which is supposed to be the uniform for matatu crew.  And I wish I could have judged him as much…

We would momentarily reach Kawangware, where he alighted even before the matatu came to a stop and somehow disappeared into thin air.  Three passengers started waiting outside the vehicle, in a manner to suggest that we were waiting for something.  It turned out that we were waiting for our cash balances from the conductor.  

We eventually made him out from the large crowd at Kawangware roadside side as he finally came to our standing position.  He gave the first passenger a fifty and the passenger left.  He gave the lady thirty shillings and gave me twenty shillings.

“Fifty!  Nakudai fifty,” I reminded him.  He looked a bit confused.

The lady told him that what she gave her was not her balance, “Bado hazijafika,” she repeated.

The ruffian would then snatch the monies from the palms of our hands and shove a one-hundred shillings note to the lady.  I was still wondering what was going on, before realizing that he had already run off towards the collection and chaos of matatus and people, while shouting just beyond earshot, “Gawaneni hiyo”

I was just starting to be happy that at least we shall only have to divide the hundred between us, on a fifty-fifty basis, problem solved, when a new twist emerged.

“Yangu ilikuwa seventy!,” the lady lamented, looking at the direction of the conductor, who had by now disappeared forever.

This was now a new territory, because my balance was fifty and the lady was claiming seventy, yet the available money was only one-hundred.

“Jameni!  Yangu ilikuwa seventy!  Sasa nitafanyaje?,” she lamented before me.  We were now just standing next to matatus that were coming and going, with all the chaos of passengers and pedestrians in the mix.

“Sawa, nipe tu thirty,” I volunteered to do with the loss to her benefit.

It did not take long before she started wondering where we shall get loose change.  I would have easily asked for change or even got some from my pockets, but the lady was not making any effort to get loose money, nor willing to part with the one-hundred shillings note

“Kaa tu nayo.  Nilikuwa na haraka,” I gave up and walked on, losing my fifty shillings just like that, to the thuggery of the matatu sector.

I walked about one kilometre on Naivasha road to the Kinyanjui road junction stage next to Midhill hospital where I was to take the next vehicle to Adams.  I survived the very chaotic roadside mess called hawkers, matatus and passersby and was glad to be at that stage ready for my next phase of the travel.  I observed the buses and matatus beckoning the few reluctant passengers at that stage, until my time to take the opportunity came.

“Tao foti, tao foti foti!,” the touts chorused.

We stayed put.

“Tao foti, tao foti foti!,” the touts chorused some more.

We continued staying put.  We wanted better.

One of those touts would soon come to my standing position and whisper almost inaudibly to my ear, “Wewe ingia na thati!”

He showed me the door of the bus, and continued the ‘foti, foti’ chant.

It did not take long before the bus was full.  I would then notice the person who had ushered me in start negotiating for his cut with the real conductor at the door of the bus, before he jumped out of the now speeding bus, almost falling in this process of jumping out.

When my turn to pay came, I gave out the thirty shillings in two coins of twenty and ten.  The conductor looked at the money and stayed put, his hand still stretched, “Gari ni foti!”

“But yule jamaa alisema ni thati?”

“Jamaa gani?  Nimi ndio conda.  Ulinisikia nikisema thati?”

I added another ten shillings without much ado.

I would soon be at Adams, would be soon done with my errands and would travel back without much drama on this return journey.  I had not imagined that I would be conned twice in one day by this matatu industry that has no rules.  I had thought it was ‘softiness’ that had led to the junior runner in training, aka WWB junior, when she reported that a tout had refused to give back her change.  I had not imagined that even fully grown people still suffer similar fates.  I had learnt my lessons.  It is never too late to be conned!

I had already forgotten about the morning, and was planning for my next run set for next Monday, when I heard someone speak loudly along the corridor, just outside my office door, for the benefit of all, that,

“Imagine wame ban masports zote!  Hata vitu kama jogging haziko tena!”

What?

What is going on here?

It did not take long before the communique came in through official channels, that the President of the republic of Kenya had just issued new directives aimed at curbing the spread of the corona virus that causes COVID19.  The measures were drastic, many and immediate.  It was true that sporting activities had been banned, with immediate effect.  The country had been zoned into the red zone of Nairobi, Nakuru, Kajiado, Machakos and Kiambu, and non-red zone of the rest of the country.  The red zone was to go into a new 8.00pm to 4.00am curfew from tomorrow, unlike the 10.00pm to 4.00am in the rest of the country.  

But that was not the clincher – the red zone was now under lockdown with movement in and out of that zone prohibited with immediate effect!  Bars had been closed indefinitely, eateries were to open for takeaway only, employers were directed to allow all workers to work from home, schools and colleges were to close unless they offer online classes (apart from examinations which are to continue as planned), meetings had been banned, religious in-person meetings had been stopped with immediate effect!  Some prohibitions were only for the red zone, such as the issue of bars, eateries and religion.  Vehicles were reminded to carry 60% capacity… bringing back memories of my morning experience just when I thought I had forgotten about it.

This was bad!  

This time I am not seeing the runners surviving even their solo runs.  Let me state what that prohibition on sports state, and you be the judge…. all sporting activities are hereby suspended, similarly operations of sporting and recreational facilities including Members Clubs are suspended until it is otherwise directed.

All this due to this thing that we thought was out of limelight.  This corona virus that causes COVID19.  This very corona that has now affected 126,256,838 worldwide with 2,770,139 deaths and 101,847,640 recoveries.  In Kenya, our numbers now stand at 126,170 infections, 2,092 deaths and 91,268 recoveries.  The first lockdown in March of 2020 was met with fear and uncertainty.  It is now exactly one year later, and we are facing another lockdown with fear and uncertainty.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 26, 2021