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Saturday, December 25, 2021

The truth is out… there is nothing called Christmas

The truth is out… there is nothing called Christmas

I did not even think twice when I was told there was a private car to Eldoret for two-thousand five hundred per person.  I was already seated without hesitation, with the young runner travelling alongside.
Umpatie fifteen,” the stage hand whispered as I settled on the back seat.  There was already another woman seated back left as I sat middle seat.  The front left had an elderly man.  We waited briefly for the driver.  All were quiet.

“Nakuru ngapi?,” a new person came to the driver’s window just as the driver got in and adjusted his seat.
The driver looked back at the full backseat with three seated.
Naona kumejaa.  Utatosha kweli?  Ok, lete thao!”
We were wondering how a fourth person would miraculously fit onto that back seat and were already murmuring out protest.  In fact, I had told the young runner that we would have to abandon the ride and wait for another opportunity, than be squeezed with another person in that full seat.  The driver must have got our sentiments, since he momentarily acknowledged that the car was full and drove off.

It was now seven-thirty on this Thursday, December 23.  We soon got to the petrol station at Cooperation, hardly a kilometre from our pickup point in Uthiru.
Lete hizo pesa tuweke petroli,” the driver held back a hand in my direction.
I handed him three notes of a thousand-shilling denomination each.  He counted and returned his hand towards the backseat.
Hazi toshi.  Ongeza soo sita
Lakini tuliambiwa ni fifteen!”
Ai, hapana.  Hata ilitakiwa iwe thao mbili mbili, lakini nikatoa ka discount.”

That is how I paid the balance by MPESA and got to know the driver’s name.  So, James drove off and we joined the traffic jam just before Gitaru.  The vehicles were jam packed and hardly moving.  We kept going slowly.  We diverted from the parking yard of the main road and got to a side road just before Limuru.  We endured that rough side road before rejoining the main road where vehicles were hardly moving.

It continued being slow going.  At Kinale we did another diversion to the sideroads to emerge somewhere past Soko Mjinga towards Flyover.  These diversions were helping us move albeit through rough roads, but we would be back to the traffic jam whenever we got back to the highway.  We kept going that slowly with the jam not relenting at all.  We hardly travelled at over 40km per hour at any time in the drive to Nakuru, where we reached at 12.30pm.  It took us five hours to cover that 160km!  That is like 30km per hour speed!  Even the train could have been faster!!

We took a short break at Nakuru and resumed our journey at one.  The road from Nakuru to Eldoret was equally jam packed, though not as slow as the first phase to Nakuru.  I even afforded a few episodes of a nap before I felt the car come to a stop at some point.  It did not take me long to realize that we were around Timboroa.  The weather remained sunny.  I soon realized that we were on at a police road block.  This was the first one where we had been stopped, since the other blocks were mainly targeting public service and heavy commercial vehicles.

Lazima ni mambo ya pasenja,” the old name told the driver, “Yani mtu hawezi kubeba relatives?”
“License?,” the cop asked and presented a hand across the front passenger towards the driver’s seating position.
The driver searched around and presented a red wallet.  The cop left with the license and walked to the back to the car, then round towards the driver’s side.

The cop then stood just outside the driver’s seat and asked the driver to disembark, “Shuka nikuenyeshe makosa yako.”
The driver was just about to disembark when the front passenger called the cop, “Officer, hebu rudi.
The cop made a motion of turning back.  He was already set to wait for the driver somewhere behind the boot.
“Officer, I am Mr. Okeno, the deputy county officer in charge of […..], and I am here with my family heading home…”
The cop did not even wait for the completion of that sentence, since the red wallet was soon handed back to the driver and we were on our way in a hurry.

We encountered another road block at Burnt Forest, where the driver was once gain asked for this license, then asked to hit the brake lights while the cop observed the hind lights.  The driver got his license back and we drove through the jam slowly but steadily all the way to Eldoret.  We disembarked at 4.30pm.  We had just done another three-and-a-half hours for that 160km distance – an average speed of just 45km per hour.  What a journey we had had!


It is finally a Saturday, December 25.  The day started like any other.  The sun still rose from the East.  The wind and cold expected of this town have continued to live to their expectation.  There is no shout or noise.  All is quiet.  The ‘silent night’ song has become ‘silent day’.  So, may I ask what is this Christmas that we are hyping about?

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, Dec. 25, 2021

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

A birthday run that never was

A birthday run that never was

If there is a time that I thought I had COVID, and specifically Omicron variant, then that time was last week Friday.  COVID due to the symptoms and that particular variant due to the fast progression of the symptoms.  I had started feeling the signs of a common cold on the Thursday but had not taken any second thought of it.  However, on Friday the symptoms had multiplied ten times in less than a 24-hour cycle.  My throat was sore, and my body was weak.  However, I was not having a running nose nor a fever – just the urge to clear the throat and feeling tired for no reason.

Had it not been for the evening meeting that I had no power to cancel, I would surely have taken an early break and taken a bedrest.  I nonetheless persevered through the evening meeting that was to run from six to seven on that Friday and was glad when it eventually came to an end.  I had struggled to stay online and pretended to concentrate, but my body was telling me otherwise.  I needed a rest.

I was still contemplating on how to drag myself home when the meeting ends when there was a knock on the office door.  I suspected that it must be the sentry checking on who was still in office to alert them to lock-up the block as they leave.  I was however getting irritated.  I think that people get unnecessarily irritated when they need a rest.  I had previously told the guard that he did not need to keep reminding me to lock up.  I would do that automatically if I was the last person leaving.  I therefore did not know why he was still insisting on reminding me.

“Come in,” I said and continued conversing with the computer screen, counting the last fifteen-minutes of the evening meeting.  I could not wait to get it done with.
The door remained closed.
Another knock.
“Come right in!,” I raised my voice.  I was not going to answer that door in case nothing happens after this.

The door creaked open.  I was still concentrating on the screen.  I expected the guy.
“Happy birthday!,” I voice shouted from the now opened door.
“Happy what?,” I reacted, slowly turning my gaze from screen to door.
“Daktari, what did you say?,” I heard a participant on the Google Meet event ask.  I had already cautioned that participant that I was not yet a Daktari but he refused to live in the now.  He lived in the ‘by faith’.  I had told him that the ‘Doc’ thing would be happening next year, but I was manifesting it now.

I had to mute the online meeting first, to absorb what was going on.  Into the room matched in the young runner, Atieno, with a big white box at hand.  She proceeded to lay it on the desktop.  That box did not need any imagination to figure out the content.  She laid a Club soda besides it, the two-litre version.
“Have a seat while I get this meeting done with,” I motioned.

The meeting was done by seven.  I was back to the reality of the situation.  It was December 17.  
“You know it is your birthday, right?,” the architect in training said once I had closed the online meeting.
“Oh, how can I forget,” I lied.

I did not know that adults still had birthdays.  I have associated birthdays with the young ones and any other person.  I was still wondering how this birthday event even came about.  Unfortunately, my body was still weak and my throat could not partake of that soda, nor did I have an appetite for food, leave alone cake.  This birthday would have to be postponed.  I just needed a rest.

I tossed and turned and tossed and turned on that night.  I had a fever.  Covering up with three blankets did not even work.  I still shivered and felt cold.  I feared that I had been infected with the corona virus, though when I woke up to reality of the Saturday morning, I was a bit better.  The chills had gone, and the sore throat had gone down.  My remedy had just been hot water laced with lemon, masala and honey.  It seemed to have worked.

But I still had some last minute COVID jitters to contend with….
“I am not reporting for duty.  I have a bad cold.  I suspect I have COVID.  I am going for a test today.”
That short text beeped on my phone at around eleven on Saturday.  A colleague who was to be on duty on this Saturday was cancelling.  We had discussed so many projects the previous day in the small office.  If she was suspecting that she was having the corona virus, then…..

Anyway, I kept getting better, masala and honey at hand, and was surely back to normal by Sunday.  My method of recovery has always been to identify the onset of the flu before it hits, and then take it down with some honey.  This modus operandi enabled me to have less than two-days of downtime whenever the flu hits.  That works for me but maybe not for others, since that young runner would report a flu of her own two days after that birthday surprise and be forced to seek medication in her case, incurring a bill of over 10k.

So, was it COVID?  The Omicron variant of COVID?  The very COVID that has now infected 276,724,130 people with 5,388,439 deaths globally*.  Kenyan numbers are 267,571 and 5,354 respectively.  Could it be the one?  Did that double-jab of Astra-Zeneca vaccine contribute to my low downtime or I was just having a normal flu?
*source: worldometers

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Dec. 22, 2021

Saturday, December 11, 2021

Running into a taxi business with a twist... four twists

Running into a taxi business with a twist... four twists

Today I added one more view to the most viewed videos on YouTube.  I was just curious to know what makes the billion-view videos be worth their ‘B’ achievement.  It is a question that I had already asked a few members of a ‘friends’ group to contribute to not so long ago.  They had told me that such a B-viewer video needs to appeal to, or be for…. guess…. the kids!  And surely video number 1 was a kids’ video – with 9.81B + 1 from me!  It was a sobering reminder of what the innocence of the young can achieve.

But it was not long when I had another kids’ discussion, but in a different context.  That was last Saturday, just seven days ago.  I was eventually travelling from TRM on Thika Road on a taxi.  I was coming back to Uthiru after a day out, probably the first time out of my comfort zone in over a year.  Even that three hour stay in that mall had already been a too much outing based on circumstances.  You know what to blame for this situation of not going anywhere else don’t you?  Of course, corona, silly!

So, the discussion started with kids as I was seated on the taxi from TRM about seven in the evening.  The driver who had already told me to cancel the Uber request and pay the indicated amount offline was driving smoothly on the almost deserted Thika road towards Pangani.  He had already lamented that the app only benefited the app.  He had said that the drivers were hardly even getting the crumbs, since they had no say in how the fares were being set nor were they even employees of Uber.

We were discussing corona in general, and why we would soon be having another lockdown in Kenya, or even not at all.  The pros for a lockdown was due to the ‘new Omicron’ variant of corona virus, while the cons were ‘the youth’.  Omicron has just been ‘discovered’, of technically speaking, had just been ‘sequenced’ in South Africa on November 24, just ten days prior to this taxi ride.  

Of course, SA and another eight of its neighbouring countries had faced a travel ban from most Europe and Americas, hardly one-week after that sequencing activity, leading to much uproar over discrimination in how international bans were being imposed.  The argument being that the ban had been rushed, and that SA had just been forthright with scientific truth.  Keeping quiet was the alternative, and that is the alternative that many on the web were now advising SA, in hindsight, to have done, instead of speaking the truth and now being banned (plus its neighbours).

The new Omicron variant was believed to be more transmissible, though its ‘deadliness’ had not yet been determined.  Even as late as today, some three weeks later and its deadliness is not yet determined.  Nonetheless, it seems to be less deadly than other variants or than previously feared.  The corona numbers* now stand at 269,570,565 infections globally from all variants, with 5,315,126 deaths since December 2019.  Kenyan numbers are 255,932 and 5,342 respectively.  On that Saturday, as I sat on that taxi, my Uber app off, my phone also off due to lack of charge, the global numbers were 265,795,997 and 5,268,209 respectively.  
*source: worldometers

Interestingly, the infection rates had gone up on a week-by-week comparison, while the deaths had gone down in the same period in the last one week.  A new highly transmissible variant was therefore ‘in the air’ yet the death rates had gone down.  The general prevalence and case numbers were even higher in the countries imposing the ban.  A punishing ban in the southern part of Africa had come to naught.  What a contradiction!  It did not even take long before the variant was being detected globally anyway, including in places that had no links with SA at all.  The variant was already out and it was its turn to do the rounds – live with it, as we now say in these days of corona.

Back to the taxi, where my phone was about to go off due to lack of charge.  The phone that I attempted to replace hardly a week prior with little success, after the replacement phone developed a starting error forcing me to return it to the vendor, and now be reluctant to migrate from my old phone.  The young runner, Atieno, had already laughed at me even before that one-week-old phone got faulty, telling me that I could do better than an Umidigi, her words, not mine.  I had and have no love to any brand of phone.  I buy according to my money and live with it.  Anyway, with my phone almost off, I paid up the initially indicated fare on the app before I had cancelled, by MPESA.  I did not want to be reach my destination and fail to payup due to a phone that was off.

However, before we had started that corona discussion, and the pro-cons of Kenya shutting down soon, we had discussed this issue of phones going off before paying up for the taxi.  The driver, who had been on ungoverned talk since I stepped into the taxi, had volunteered his wisdom on this.  He had disclosed that some drivers can screenshot a different fare display and show it to the passenger at the end of the trip in cases where the passenger’s phone is gone off.  

It would usually need a keen eye to detect the deception, though by such a time it is likely to be too late, usually after the fact.  However, he then confessed that it was possible to report such cases to Uber for resolution and penalization of the offending driver.  This would usually lead to the reduction of the driver’s ratings and the eventual crediting of the passenger’s account with the difference in charges, ready for use during a next ride.

We discussed the joys and the ‘not-so-joys’ of being the in the taxi business.  It was now almost seven-thirty as we joined Waiyaki way from the Museum hill roundabout.  He has told me that he would be closing business after he dropped me, since it was already night.  This seemed a contradiction the expectations of the current business environment.

“But we no longer have a shutdown?  You can surely work for 24-hours!”
“I just fear the night,” he said casually.
“Must be due to bad people,” I nodded in agreement.
“Not bad people, the good people!”

This got me thinking!  Fear of the good people?  Was I missing something?  He then opened up the story telling session with the top four reasons why he feared the good people and hence would like to avoid them as much as possible.  Do not hold me to account or call me names as I state the list, his list.  I am just reporting what the driver told me.  We were now on Waiyaki way, heading to Uthiru.

Good people number 1 – the drunk girl
He said that these are the types that he picks up from some nightlife joint, already tipsy.  The girl settles on the back seat and stays restless, asking him why he is not getting to his destination quickly.  They get into the list due to what happens at payment time.

Nipe namba ya MPESA!,” the girl says, slurring with every word.
He gives the number, taking maybe five or ten times just repeating the simple ten-digit number.
They have now arrived at the destination, but the MPESA has not yet reached the driver’s phone, who then complains about it.
Yani, hujapataHebu nipe namba ya MPESA tena!”
He says that this is the cycle that makes him avoid doing night rides.

Good people number 2 – the drunk girl no. 2
This was a particular girl, but the cab driver still gets the jitters just imagining how he got himself into this situation.  He had responded to another call for taxi and had ended up in a nightclub.  A lady approached his taxi and stood by the rear window, leaning of the boot of the car.  The next sound was that of shattering glass, as the hind window smashed through.  He got out of his seat and went out just in time to see the impression left by a drink bottle that had hit that window.  He still does not know how and why his car was smashed, but it ended well, with the girl agreeing to repay.

Good people number 3 – the guy who sleeps
This is a guy he carries from… guess… from a nightclub yes, already drunk.  He tells the driver to wake him up when they get to the destination.  Many things happen at the destination.  They start by arguing over the destination itself.  The Uber app would be showing the pin confirming that they are at the destination, while the guy on the backseat would be swearing that that was not it.
Nirudishe penye ulinitoa!,” the drunkard would finally slur out loudly.
They usually, somehow, get the right house.  He had not returned a client in his experience.

At alighting time, the driver stops the app and presents the figure to the guy who is now just awakening from the usually deep slumber, now trying to figure out his current whereabouts.  I will never forget the gesture that the driver made at this point, as he impersonated the drunkard.  We were now just past Kabete Polytechnic, about to get to Uthiru in less than three minutes.

The taxi driver pointed ahead, and continued to say what he was told, his right index finger being wiggled towards the windscreen, “Wewe… we… we… wewe!,” he shook his finger, his tone changed, even as he kept driving with one hand.
Unataka nikulipe mara mbili ehUnafikiria nimelewa!, Eh! We, wewe, we!”
That reenactment was just magical.  It was like the drunkard was in that taxi at that very moment.  I could feel him.  I could feel the driver’s shock at the turn of events.  He did not tell me how he resolved it.  I can only imagine.

Good people number 4 – the guy who does not pay
This one is a story that I have heard before.  I was even ready to tell him the story myself.  This is the guy who is dropped at an apartment block and claims to go to the house to bring back the money for the taxi charges, never to come back.  However, this was a story with a twist.

He had waited for over ten-minutes and the guy did not come back, nor did he have any idea of to which house among the many in the storied complex the guy had disappeared into.  It was in the wee hours, as wee as three in the morning.  He got his courage and alighted from the taxi.  He then approached the sentry’s cubicle at the gate and asked the watchman for help.  The watchie had been one of those who just sleeps the night away, and was now also coming out of slumber.  He had just opened the gate to let the taxi in and had resumed his sleep, not caring whether the taxi was to leave or not.

After jolting the watchie back to consciousness, he started to ask him where the person whose name he knew as James, from the casual conversations, lived.
Ai, hapa kwa hii plot hatuna mtu anaitwa James!,” the watchie was categorical and now fully sober.
Ule jamaa nimelete hapa saa hizi!”
Hata sikuona umelete nani,” the watchie confessed, truthfully.
The taxi man was at a dead end.

Pole,” I told him, “Such loss of money!”
“Not so fast,” he continued with his story.  We were now at the Uthiru roundabout.
He had proceeded to describe the guy to the watchie.  It happened that the description that he gave were spot on, since it did not take more than two minutes before the watchie had a smile in his face, “Ah, huyo anaitwa baba Angel, anakaa B6!”
He found the guy in B6 collapsed on the sofa set, with the wifey trying to revive him with some early morning bowl of hot soup, which he was not responding to!

We did not get to conclude the pros and cons of closing down the Kenyan economy, again, due to the new Omicron variant of corona.  However, just like the YouTube videos that are a hit due to young people, the country was not going to be closed due to the same young people.  If you guessed that the this is due to some young persons’ street protest or some social media anti-Gov movement by the youth, then you are wrong.  The reason is that corona has not had an effect in the schools and there is no reason to close the schools and mess up the status quo.  Life shall continue as is, as usual.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Dec. 11, 2021