Running into corona lockdown… and surviving the hit

Running into corona lockdown… and surviving the hit

Plans

It was after two months of planning that our group of workshop organizers became confident that the event was ready for execution.  We had debated over all things workshop, including venue, number of days, timetables, plans A, plans B and even C.  We were surely ready and had covered our bases well.  But plan B would become the default one after our funding source could not materialize on the scheduled planned date of June 10.  We instead settled for June 17 and this was cast on stone.

I started my Kisumu trip in high spirits on June 16, one day to the start of the two-day workshop.  This was the best meeting that I had organized in a long time.  In fact, I have not arranged any meeting since the advent of corona in Kenya in March 2020.  It was a welcome relief to finally be able to interact with folks, albeit at a distance, the ‘social-distance’ distance.

I left Uthiru at 11.30am for the 3pm flight.  I have calculated a two-hour travel to Jomo Kenyatta international airport.  This would give me plenty of time for the check-in, which is not a big hustle when on a local travel.  I would have left at 10.30am if I was on an international sojourn.  And that is why local is always better.

“Tutumie Kikuyu bypass,” the Uber taxi driver mentioned as we edged our way slowly through the matatus at Uthiru road towards the Waiyaki highway.

“Bora tufike,” I urged him on.  

I was sure that that was probably the better option of getting towards Mombasa road at this time of the day, considering the gridlocked city centre traffic that had been made worse by the construction of the overhead express way that runs from JKIA towards ABC near Nairobi School, over a 25km road section.

The southern bypass was a smooth sail, until we were about to hit Mombasa road, when the driver once again volunteered to bypass a direct entry onto Mombasa road at Ole Sereni by instead taking a diversion to ICD.

“Najua unashangaa tuko wapi,” the driver commented, noting my looking around as we moved on.

For sure I had not been to this road before.  It was not long before I saw the sign for Inland Container Depot.  I could even see the SGR train with wagons parked somewhere in the background of a vast compound.

At some point we rejoined Mombasa road at Cabanas, and survived a short jam before diverting left to the airport.  It is almost two years since I was here.

“Bado watu hushuka kwa gate?”

“Kushuka ni lazima,” he confirmed.

I knew that I would be passing through the pedestrian luggage and body scanner, while the vehicle and driver would be passing through a full vehicle x-ray.  I have leant to go to that pedestrian scanner with the least of metallic items.  I therefore left all my bags, keys and coins in the vehicle.  I even removed the headphones and left them on the seat.  I wanted to pass through that scanner clean, and clean I did pass, without a beep whatsoever.

I got into the taxi on the other side of the gate, joining other people who had been through their security checks as we looked around to recognize and get back to our vehicles.  It was not long before I was dropped at Terminal 1D.

“Naeza lipa na MPESA.  Ni sawa?”

“Sawa, lakini tumia hii number nyingine,” he started, as I fumbled with thumbing the phone screen.  I had taken to using the new MPESA app, and it has issues, especially when the internet is not stable.  It was soon stable, and I got the number to pay the 1,750 to.

“Nimepata,” he said, even as I heard the double-beep on his phone.

I picked my two bags from the backseat where I was seating and disembarked.  I walked across the road and was soon at the terminal building.  Getting through the security check and luggage scanners was the start of my processing.  I thought that domestic travel was less stringent, but I was wrong.  The checks were just as thorough.  I joined the queue of about three other passengers and got my boarding pass.  I went through a second security check and luggage scan before getting to the waiting area.  It was hardly one.  I still had upto 1445 to depart, with board scheduled to start at 1415.

I was impressed by the clean and well laid out waiting area, which was quite a thing for a facility managed by a public institution.  I settled in on an empty seat, on the largely empty waiting lounge.  I was planning to catch up on email, rearrange my conference material, since I had a first meeting on the same evening, then probably listen to some music for the hour of waiting.

I found a socket on a connection point next to my seat and plugged in the laptop.  I switched the computer on and it started.  I was logged in and ready to start my work.  The airport wifi seemed to be secured, which was not the normal.  I have previously used it for free, after agreeing to TOS.  I now had a locked wifi at a public terminal.  I was tempted to ask the KCAA employees that occasionally passed by, in their characteristic yellow pullovers, but I thought the better of it, and decided to just use my phone’s hotspot.

I was just starting to setup the phone hotspot when the laptop went off.  I had fully charged it before commencing the journey and hence knew that the charge could not be the issue.  I guessed that it must have gone to sleep mode due to the five minutes or so of inactivity.  It would usually not go off when connected to power, and this was a strange behaviour.  I started by checking on the power source and confirmed that for sure that socket was not connected to the wall power.  The cable at the back of that socket was just hanging concealed next to a wall.

“Very funny!,” I remarked, as how crafty the airport operators were.  Making us believe there was power in the socket yet the damn thing was not even powered.

I was now convinced that the computer must have timed out and gone to sleep mode.  I therefore tried to press the power button and… and nothing happened!  The thing remained silent.  It was completely off.  I however know this sign.  It had already happened twice in the last two weeks, where the system just goes off and goes dead.  The only way to revive it, as explained by our ICT, was to open the underside casing and reset the battery.  And that underside cover has many concealed screws and delicate plastic interlocks.  It is something that you do not wanna do.

When it happened the first time I believed that it was a bad one-off incident.  When it happened a second time last week I knew that there was something amiss with this machine that is hardly a year old.  The gurus had told me that they had upgraded the BIOS and that the problem was now gone forever.  I did not know how the BIOS had anything to do with the system shutting down to the level of disabling the battery, and I doubted as much, but they know better.

Now the system was dying a third time when I was preparing for a trip with no way of getting it fixed.  I was headed to another city where I was to be for the rest of the week.  I was now out of information, with even some conference material now concealed dead inside the laptop.

“This is just great!,” I cried out loud!

It did not take long to overcome my denial and be back to acceptance of my situation.  I was even glad that I would be off the computer for some time.  Maybe I could even take the time to just enjoy my music and look around.

“Wait a minute!,” I almost jumped out of my seat, as I touched my neck and realized that I did not have my headphones.  I did not recall having them with me as I went through the two baggage scanners.  Though it was possible.  I remember especially at the second scanner, where my bags had stayed in that machine for so long until I wondered if they were even clean.  The two bags had eventually came out without a question.  If my phones had been left on the conveyor, then that second scanner must be the culprit.  I still could not believe that I had left them in the scanner, though I remained convinced that that was unlikely.

I was just starting my walk toward that direction of the security check when I decided to first confirm with the taxi person, just in case he had seen them.

“Hebu ngoja niangalie,” he said and paused, in a manner of looking around.  It was like forever before he responded, “Imagine ziko tu hapo backseat penye ulikuwa umekaa.”

“OK, sawa, wacha nizichukue Sato nikirudi”

“Utanitafuta kwa hiyo namba yangu.”

There I was, with about one more hour before boarding and now with no computer and no music.  I went through another denial before I accepted that this was just not my day.  Nonetheless, I still managed to enjoy my solitude at the lounge as I waited for the boarding at gate 2.  The call to board came at about 1430, and it was not until 1455 that we took off.  The ride on the Bombardier dash 8 Q400 was smoother than I thought.  I had underrated the stability and performance of the 78-seater that was full to capacity, but it did not disappoint.  It flew quite smoothly… and fast, since it was not long before the landing announcement was made, and we surely touched down 40-minutes later.

The city

The city of Kisumu was not as hot as I have come to know it to be.  I even kept my jacket on as the slight chill crept in.  I checked out and soon got a Bolt taxi, which was to take me to Mamboleo, where I was to find out where my residential apartment was.  I had booked in on Airbnb and was a bit apprehensive.  I had previously booked an unknown residence in Mombasa using another app, Booking, but it had turned out well.  I even paid after checking in on that app.  However, Airbnb was different.  You prepay and face the consequences of cancellation or dislike of the residence with your money gone.  

While I paid Booking in Kenya shillings upon check in, Airbnb charged me in USD in advance.  My credit card was even blocked for a while due to ‘suspicious transaction to unrecognized merchant in dollar currency’, courtesy my bank.  Of course, paying in dollars has that additional pain of conversion to Kenya shillings which the banks take advantage of, and charge an extra 10% in currency exchange advantage to themselves.  I knew that with an exchange rate averaging 108 to the dollar, the bank was going to milk me dry with an exchange rate of about 120 to the dollar for this transaction.  That was last week.  I was now at the present moment.  I was relying on the good nature of vendors on cyberspace to make this accommodation work.  My money was gone and I now hoped that I would get the goods.

The taxi dropped me near a landmark called Makuti.  I started walking toward the direction where the residence was meant to be, based on a map that I had seen online.  It did not take long before I got to a crossroad.  From there, all buildings looked like the place I was to be going to.  I was lost, hardly five minutes into my stroll in the unknown geography.  The owner of the apartment had been kind enough to provide the number of the caretaker, in response to my request for information while I was still in the Bolt taxi.

With two bags in hand, I called the number that was provided.

“Mano ng’a?  Iwacho nade?,” I heard a faint blubber on the other end of the line.

“Si hapo ni kwa nyumba za Dina apartments?”

“Mimi apana jua wewe nani.  Nani nasema we napiga hii namba yangu yawa!”

“Nili ambiwa wewe in caretaker wa nyumba penye nakuja kuishi”

“Ohhhhh, sasa mimi najua hiyo mambo sasa.  Wewe nakuja tu hapo mbele tu.  Kuja tu mpaka taona tu nyumba”

For crying out loud!  I am already at a cross road and lost!

It would take more negotiations and more phone calls before I finally got the direction and had to be stranded in the middle of the bad road for over five-minutes waiting for the caretaker to trace and show me the way.  It was not far from where I was, just like two rows of houses away.  He opened the door of House 2 on the ground floor of a compound that had one story block, with two floors.  He then handed me the key.

I got in and looked around.  It was just past 4.30pm.  The evening meeting in town was scheduled for six.  I wanted to settled down, take a shower, then be ready for the travel to town.  I wanted to catch up with the half-hour news headlines on AJZ and approached the TV table to try switch it on.  It was not responding, despite pressing the remote-control buttons.  A quick observation revealed to me that the power extender was not connected, and the TV power cable affixed to that extender was therefore not powered.

I would soon notice that the power extender had burnt and disconnected cables just next to the plug.  I sent a message about this to the owner on WhatsApp and also called the caretaker.  The caretaker came in, looked at the extender cable, confirmed that it was surely spoilt, and left without a word.  I was just about to give up on him, when the metallic door was knocked once more and the caretaker and some other young lady matched in.  They both looked at the extender and confirmed that it was not working, just as I had told them.  Is it that they did not believe me?  The cable was visibly burnt and cut at the plug!  They both left soon after without much solution.

It was hardly five minutes later when there was another knock on the door.

“That was fast!,” I commented, as I opened the door and walked back in, even without looking back.

I did not hear any footsteps following me.  They had decided not to get in?  I walked back to the door and looked outside.  I saw a hand stretched in my direction with a brownish plastic cup.  On the other side of the hand of the body of a young man, with another hand holding a phone.  He continued talking.  Balancing the phone with one hand on one ear, while holding the cup in my direction.

Now I am convinced that men cannot do two things at a time.

“Manze huyo dem alini con chapaa.  Nilimtumia ka empesa ata anichapie, lakini manze… hebu ngoja…,” he took a pause and looked at me while shaking the cup.

“Si unishow ka-salt kiasi”

Ni-what?

Luckily, I had already surveyed the house and had noted that there was some salt already in the upper kitchen cabinet.  I got the jar from the kitchen and came back with a spoon.  I scooped a tablespoonful and poured into the cup.  The person had resumed his con-story on the phone with whoever-was-on-the-other-side-of-the-phone.  He paused again and whispered in my direction, “Ongeza kiasi”

I would soon shower and momentarily leave for town without a replacement power extender adaptor.  I was back around nine after the preparatory meeting.  The caretaker would join me as I opened the door to hand over a new power extension cable.  I thought that I would make up for lost time by watching Euro 2000 football matches live on the big 43-inch TV.  But that was not to be, since the IPTV did not have a leeway of getting onto an online site that was screening the matches.  What happened to good old satellite TV where one watches Supersport channels to see real games?  Now guests are left to their devices to look through websites that show nothing?  What a waste of 43-inches!  I went to bed early and disappointed.

Good ending

Thursday was the first day of the seminar at the middle of Kisumu city.  The seminar well so well despite our misgivings and feeling of not having prepared enough, a feeling that most organizers will always have at most workshop.  I was now thanking the participants for a good day that was now culminating into a good ending, as we plan for yet another day to finalize our business.  I had just asked the team of twenty or so to stand up for the final benediction when I was called aside by one of the organizers in my team.  I left the participants on standing and waiting mode, and excused myself from the podium section.

Soon the six coordinators were in deep discussion at a side with hardly audible whispers.  Soon the prayer would be done and all participants asked to remain seated for five minutes to be updated on a new development.  And it was new indeed.  The city of Kisumu, and many other western Kenya counties had just been locked down starting Friday, June 19.  In a presidential directive and subsequently on Government gazette aka the law, Kisumu and others would be on curfew from seven in the evening to four in the morning.  This was in response to the new strain (strain delta) of COVID19 that had hit the western part of Kenya hard.  

But that was not why the participants were seated and waiting for five minutes.  All in-person meetings had been banned with immediate effect, among other stringent containment measures, that included travel in and out of the locked down zone being ‘discouraged’ according to official presidential speech, and ‘banned’, according to several sources that were interpreting the speech.  It was the painful announcement that was quickly crafted by the six of us that brought the participants to their senses at the end of the five minutes of waiting.  The seminar was being cut short.  All had to clear and go back to their homes the next day, instead of Saturday.  There was chatter around the hall as participants were caught off guard.  What had to be done had to be done.

I was back to the apartment by seven.  I was just preparing to take a shower after watching the news on the IPTV, where I had realized that I had to get a Youtube stream first, when the house become dark momentarily.  There was a power fail.  However, the outside was a bit too bright.  I thought that maybe it was just my place without power and hence had to walk out all the way to the gate of the one block compound.  I saw the security lights on the walls of the block being on, and confirmed with the caretaker who was also on security duties at the gate, that the security lights were solar powered and for sure there was a blackout.

The power was back at about eight.  I was just heading for the shower when I saw a giant roach on the floor.  The apartment has so far proved to be worthy of a stay.  It was one bedroom with a well-equipped kitchen.  A gas-electric cooker was ready and waiting.  A microwave oven, electric jug and toaster graced the kitchen counters on one side.  The other side of the kitchen had a fridge behind the kitchen door, then the washing sink, then drying rack.  The cooker was directly in front of the kitchen door.  On top of the cooker was an overhang cabinet, where that salt container of yesterday was kept.

Opposite the kitchen was a handwashing area then the door to the shower and toilet as one room.  Adjoining the shower was the bedroom with its door facing the sitting room.  The sitting room was simply furnished and tasty.  A large couch covered almost one whole side of the wall, facing the TV table, which was on the wall of the bedroom.  The middle of the room had a small coffee table.  One side of the sitting room had the kitchen, with a sliding window to pass through anything between kitchen and living room.  On the other side of the room, to the left while seated on the couch, was a metallic door that had been welded shut and a window next to it.

The bedroom had a wardrobe that had three hangers, a graying bedcover that was once-upon-a-time a white one, and an extra black pillow.  Below the single shelf on the wardrobe was an iron box placed on the floor.  Next to it was a mosquito net that was not in use, since the bed that covered most of the room already had four metallic stands with a mosquito net strewn around it.  One end of the room had a window.

The house was generally in good condition and must have been newish.  My guess was that it had not existed for more than a year or two.  The finishing however left a lot to be desired, such as paint specs on the sink, exposed tile junctions, door fixtures that left gaps between wall and frame, and flaked paint areas on the walls.  These were however minor issues to interfere with one’s stay.  However, that giant roach could disturb your peace.  I saw it crawling like a big rat towards the lower part of the TV cabinet.  I was just about to through a slipper in its direction when the power went off again.

I was stuck in the dark a second time in hardly thirty minutes, with the lucky roach taking the opportunity to slip away in the dark to an unknown place.  I had previously attempted to take a shower twice, and each one had been curtailed by failed power.  This time I was not taking any more chances.  I was jumping into that shower the moment the first second of electricity comes back to the block.  That is exactly what I did at about nine when power was back, though that did not give me any advantage since the power stayed stable from that point on.

Kafu

I was in town early on Friday to assist the organizers clear the participants, a process that took most morning, ending at lunch break when participants took their lunch as they departed.  I remained at the hotel for another two hours to assist in the accounting, before finally leaving for home at four.  I took a walk from Mamboleo to Kondele at about five, just to stretch my legs and buy some provisions.  I walked back the three kilometres just before the curfew kicked in.

The night was uneventful and the Saturday was quiet as I prepared to leave the city of Kisumu to travel back to the other city.  I was still watching an Axel F movie from a flash disk when someone knocked the metallic door.  It was hardly eleven.  Did they want to see me out already?  The checkout was one for crying out loud!  I went to the door and opened it.  It was the caretaker.

“Mi nakuja ochukue ndoo”

“Ndoo?”

“Ndio, sisi anaweka ndoo hapa jokon”

“Sawa, ingia uangalie”

He got into the kitchen, ransacked the cabinets and extracted a bucket from under the kitchen sink.

The two hours of relaxion were soon gone and I had to leave.  I once again walked to Kondele after checking out of the apartment, then another kilometer ahead to Kibuye.  From there I took a taxi to the airport ready for the evening flight back to the city.  At the airport we were directed to an online link for filling-in traveler details for contact tracing.  This COVID thing that had caused the lockdown and ‘kafu’ was surely a serious thing.  With 179,238,929 infections and 3,881,434 deaths globally, and 179,075 infections and 3,456 deaths locally*, this COVID thing was rearing its ugly head again and any initiative to stop it on its track was worth the effort.

*source: worldometers website

However, efforts such as filling in an online form in Kisumu and being stuck in Nairobi airport because ‘the system’ did not update the record is not worthwhile.  The authorities should test and confirm that a system works before they blame travelers for the failure of the system.  Maybe they should have just resorted to use of paper forms as we did when we got to Kisumu on Wednesday.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Sunday, June 20, 2021