Running short of words

Running short of words

This was the last day of my holiday.  It has gone well and I had had a good holiday since last week.  It has been the most relaxed week ever.  I even got my research project that had been stuck due to lack of time and motivation back on track, and it was now working well.  I do not wake up early during my holidays.  It was therefore not my day to wake up early, but the morning had destined that I would have to be forced to wake up early on this Friday.

“Wowi! Wowi!,” I kind-a heard a shout.  It was just about six thirty.  This would normally be a time to prepare for the last three hours of sleep.  But that was not to be.

“Hebu niue!  Niueeeee! Niue, niue, niue,” a definite woman’s voice shouted.  It came from the grounds of the next compound, with the noise permeating clearing onto the second floor where I was, window facing the open ground where the sound was coming from.

I ignored it, turned, tossed and tried to get back to sleep.  But not for long!

“Wowi! Wowi!  Leo lazima utaniua!  Nimechoka natabia zako!,” she continued and continued some more.  She kept talking, shouting, crying.

There was generally no answer.  Just murmurs from apparently other people around.  The woman would then finally give a “Umenichapa!  Leo utanijua!.”  That was the last I heard of that as she retreated sobbingly out of earshot.  It was just about six-forty-five.  The air become quiet once more.  I even tried to sleep, but this was not my morning.

I started hearing some crying from afar, and some muffled sounds that gave me the impression that someone was talking amid cries.  This lasted for some time, though the sound was just in the background without clarity of deciphering what was being said.

But at seven the muffled sounds come back to clarity as the distinct shouting of the same woman came into earshot.

“Sasa nimerudi!,” she declared, amidst crying, “Hebu sasa Senior atoke nje kama yeye ni mwanamme!”

Mmmhhh, this is it!  

The lady then kept shouting and calling names.  She said that she is not leaving until Senior came out and confronted her if he was a real man.  She said that she is now ready to die, and even gave her death time as sometime in the next one week.  She said that she is doing down since she fears that she is infected with HIV that she got from the promiscuity of his man, Senior.  However, she had a death wish.  She wanted to confirm to Senior’s face that he is responsible for her ailment.  She lamented how her mother had warned her against marrying Senior.  Now she was regretting and wishing that she had listened to her late mother.  She cried some more.

Some men tried to cool her down, from her shouting position, out of view, but she could not hear nothing.  She told all those talking to her to save themselves the trouble by just getting Senior out to face the music.  That was the only way she was going to keep quiet.

“Atoke twende tupimwe saa hii,” she said at some point, amid sobs and many other lamentations.

Finally, after many minutes, the accused popped out of the iron sheet walled den.  I could see his frame standing at the wooden frame iron sheet door.  That is the furthest he stood.

“We mama wachana na mimi,” he slurred, “Hi kelele yako ndio sababu nilikuacha!”

“Hebu toka nje kama wewe mwanamme,” she responded from her concealed location.  I could guess just on the covered walkway out of my view.

“Mimi nilikuacha,” the guy repeated, “Tuliachana tayari!”

“Nimefanya investigations,” she countered, “Umekuwa ukilala na Sandra hapa tu kwa hii nyumba!”

Oh my!  What are we having this morning!

“Hebu twende test kwanza, kabla sijajiua!,” she added, amidst loud shouts.  I think Senior had ignited a fighting spirit in her by his responses.  She had now become completely mad!

“Kama una pesa, enda ununue hiyo test kit tujipime hapa!,” Senior in his don’t care attitude responded, by this time egg on his face by the morning embarrassment.

“Hapana, lazima twende hosi kufanya test na wewe!,” she sobbed back.

One of the drunks would throw spanners into the whole mainly monologue, “Kupimwa si ni free?,” he slurred, almost inaudibly.

“Thank you!,” the lady heard and responded animatedly amidst sobs.

I could still see the blue cap that marked the head of the accused firmly affixed to the door post.  He did not have the courage to face that woman.  That woman had energy!  How can you shout for over two hours and remain strong and still shouting!.  Senior kept bass-ing in the den, but now completely rained on.  He was not the usually jolly noisy domineering male bass that I had come to associate with that figure.  Today he had got his match, if that can be described as such.

And his match he did get!  That woman was blessed with voice, shrill, noise and shout!  She had it all in maximum measures.  I did not get to see her, but could only make out her voice and imagine her form.  I imagined some small lady, probably one-point-five metre tall, maybe fifty kilos in mass.  And she was far from done…

“You are the devil himself,” she added, “I must go with you devil!”

“Siendi mahali popote na huyu malaya,” Senior responded, which just led to more shouts and cries from the lady.  The lady was so loud that the whole three storey building facing the den could hear each and every word loud and clear, whether they like it or not!

“Tangu hi kelele ianze hakuna customers wamekuja hapa!,” another mature woman, whom I have associated with being the owner of the den, complained, “Hata wale wakamba hujuka saa moja leo hawajakuja”

Her complain got an immediate reaction… 

“Aweke chupa chini kwanza ndio nikuja,” Senior attempted to leave the door post, but remained put.  I now learnt that the lady was armed, and Senior was afraid!  He waited for affirmation on this request, but none of the three gents or two ladies who were in the compound witnessing the confrontation responded.  

The shouting lady continued shouting.  She swore that she was going to die… but not alone.  She was going the one way street with Senior.

It was now just over one and a half hours since I was woken up.  The shouting lady has kept shouting, though the voice seems to be retreating.  I can still see the group of five milling around the open space.  A young lady in brown jeans is serving the three guys, pouring something from a plastic bottle onto their metallic tumblers.  One of the guys gives her some money.  I cannot see how much, but she give back some change.  The other two gents just drink on.  Th elderly lady, who seemed to be the mother of the girl, keeps sitting around.  She must still be lamenting the loss of business due to the morning noise.

Senior and his shouting ex-wife, as he had claimed, must have somehow sneaked away amidst the chaos.  The shouting lady on her part claims that senior is still his husband, but he does not like his ‘sleeping’ ways, to put it politely.  She said the unprintable on the ‘sleeping’ issue, even mentioning names.  One of the drunks has taken advantage of the absence of the shouting lady, to update his colleagues and the neighbouring block where I am.  

He updates us that the shouting lady had earlier in the morning blocked the road in front of the den by lying across it.  No vehicles could pass through.  She kept shouting and crying while on the ground.  Only some lengthy persuasion convinced her to bring back her wrath to the den.  The same drunks let it slip that the owners of our apartment had met and sent a petition to the police due to the persistent noises that come from the den that disturbs their peace - this was a new one.

What a morning!  I should have just gone for my morning run and missed all this earache.  Now I have to get medication.

WWB, the coach, Eldoret, Kenya, April 14, 2023

Why run on New Year Day?

Why run on New Year Day?

I really do not have an answer as to why anyone should do anything, leave alone do a run, on the New Year Day.  I kept asking myself that question today, especially after the second out of a five-circuit run at the home of champions, that is Eldoret town.  I was on the same circuit that lies on one side of Sosiani river.  It is generally hilly, and I was facing yet another hilly section when this question came to mind.

It was morning.  I had started the run at eight.  There was hardly anyone on the road.  Even the motorbike people who are usually at the road junctions in groups of at least three or four were missing.  I was on the same route where I had had a fall just four days ago.  My knees were still aching.  In fact this was a deliberate run to confirm that my knees were still working well.  I have major runs this year, starting with the Kilimanjaro marathon in TZ scheduled for February 26.  I have to be ready for these.

My knees were not yet fully healed.  The wounds were still visible.  But that was not the test that I was doing today.  The test was on whether they were folding well and could withstand the pressure from the run over the varied terrain, some of it stony.  The pressure of the run was a bit too much as I could really feel that something was wrong on the knee, especially the right one.  I found myself relying on keeping my weight on the left leg, keeping my right leg in contact with the ground for the shortest of time.  Anyway, at least I was able to run.  I was afraid that I could not even run at all.

I was however just too careful with the run to enjoy it.  I was focused on where I was stepping.  I could not afford another tumble and fall.  I wanted to heal and be ready for the many runs in the year.  The test was therefore necessary, carefully done, and it went well.  The roads were deserted.  Even the church services at the three or so churches that I run past on my route did not start on time.  I could hear the loud church activities by eight-thirty when I did the Christmas run last Sunday.  I could hardly hear any church by nine-thirty on this day, when I was two more circuits from my finish.

Eight hours early was midnight that ushered in the New Year.  It was the usual dark night with the sky being lit by the fireworks when the clock struck midnight.  The noises were however not as intense as they were last year.  Even the drunkards den just downstairs was unusually quiet on this night.  It would usually be noisy and evidently drunkard laden.  By now, the partakers of the traditional brew, cham or chang’aa, would have been unruly, noisy and occasionally fighting about over some nonsensical things like someone did not greet someone.  This time was different.  The den was already closed by ten.  Was the economy that bad, that even cheap drinks were now not affordable?

So the night had generally been quiet.  The morning was equally quiet.  Was this the end of New Year as we know it?  Could it be the deaths in sports, religion and media in the last three days that had caused all this?  The legendary footballer, Pele from Brazil, had just died, followed closely by the former Pope Benedict at the Vatican.  Then the darling of the first major TV channel in Kenya (KTN), Catherine, has also passed on just a day to New Year.  Were these the causes of the major dampening of the New Year mood?  Of course, the first time that I heard that Edson Arantes do Nascimento had died it did not click, until they confirmed that it was the person that I have only known as Pele.  So what a way of ending the year, and starting another?

Then come Sunday morning and it was New Year 2023 day 1.  I found myself on the run route, deserted I may add, and finished the 25.7k run after some 2:14:18 run time.  I did not see any much difference between this New Year and any other run.  I did not seem to get the big deal about the New Year.  Maybe I am just being old fashioned?

For those who have a special something for New Year, go for it.  Celebrate it, enjoy it, shout over it, make it count.  For those who need to make some declarations on this day, so that that resolution becomes true, please do that.  It may work.  It should make you feel good.  As for me, I know the better.  There is nothing special on January 1.  It could even be fifteen of April on this day that we believe is January 1, who knows.  This January 1 thing is just in the mind.  What happens to those who did not make their resolutions today?  Does it mean that they are stuck with nothingness until next year?

This is from me to you on this New Year Day – do what you want on a day that you want to do it.  If you make a resolution today, then that is good.  If you decide to make it tomorrow, that is equally OK.  Make your decisions in life when you want… not only on New Year Day.  That way you have 365 days to live and do what you want… without having to wait for one year to do anything.

Happy New Year 2023!

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, January 1, 2023

The fall and the double run

The fall and the double run

Every seasoned marathoner finally falls, and my day for the fall came to pass today, Wednesday.  And it came and passed so fast that I did not even have time to enjoy it!  I would have loved a more dramatic incident, with some preparation and a long time on the ground.  But that did not happen….

I should have technically suspended all runs until 2023 after the Christmas run, but the urge to do one ‘last run’ was just so strong to resist.  I therefore left for the run at eight, against my better judgment, and would soon regret this decision.  I should have instead stayed in bed and enjoyed another hour of sleep on this cold morning.  However, I left the warmth of the bed at on my own volition and stirred trouble in the face.

The rains had started falling almost daily after a long dry spell.  The first serious rain fell on Christmas eve.  It has generally rained daily since then.  Yesterday, Tuesday was no different.  It had rained most night.  I had hoped that the running trail would not be very muddy.  Instinct told me otherwise.  The road was already slippery during the Christmas day run, with hardly a day or rain.  How about the road after four days of rain!

Anyway, I was out for the run and knew from the start that the run would be muddy.  I was still aiming for the four full circuits on the trail on the south side of Sosiani river, facing Eldoret town on the other side of the river.  I hardly started the run before I encountered the muddy puddles on the mostly dry weather earthen road.  It was slippery and called for running at a reduced speed so as to tread carefully with every step hitting the ground.  I almost fell at a road section near the river.  I marked that section mentally and reminded myself to be careful at that section when I faced it on the second circuit.

The second circuit exposed yet another slippery section on the section before heading to the riverbed.  My slow careful run had made me survive this section, even as I learnt to note its existence in readiness for the third circuit.  The third circuit could have been smooth with muddy sections now well memorized, but a new section towards the main road to Kipkenyo would remind me that this 5km circuit was just a muddy maze and there was no safe road on this day.

Finally, when I was sure that I had mastered my run on the mud, and this happens.  I was carefully running through a section that I had encountered three times already and did not even seem any muddy.  This comes after a sharp turn to the left after going downhill.  This turn should enable me to then run about one kilometre then get to the riverbed section.  It is a turn that I had already done three times thing morning and had been as smooth as butter.

I was not even going fast, as I struggled to get a grip onto the mostly muddy road.  I made the turn alright and just made about five steps before I found myself sprawled onto the mud.  It was the knees that took most of the brunt of the fall as I went down on all four.  My hands had done well in preventing my thoracic area from falling flat onto the mud.  The palms of the hand near the wrists were full of mud.  But the shock of the fall was coming from my knees.

I stood up almost immediately and assessed the situation.  I once-upon-a-time had a cellphone on the left hand, timing my run.  I had been alternating it between left and right hands with every circuit.  It was on the left on this fourth round.  It was now missing.  I had involuntarily released it in reaction to the fall and left on its own device.  I examined the ground and saw it lying about two metres ahead, on the muddy path.  I picked it up only to realize that it had gone off.

Many things were now happening at the same time.  Recovering from a fall.  Dealing with a switched off phone, that was muddy.  Dealing with muddy hands.  Trying to resume my run!  I did not know how to proceed!

I decided to switch on the phone first.  I already knew that the run timing was already disrupted, and it was not possible to continue my timing on the initial record.  I just had to start timing a new run.  A second run on the same run.  At least the phone was still working.  I wiped some mud out of it, but it remained fairly muddy.  I then attempted to run, only to be stopped by the pain coming from my knees.

I stopped on my tracks, paused the timer that had hardly timed for more than five seconds, and decided to take a look at the knees that was causing so much pain.

“Oh, em gee!,” I shouted out, subconsciously.

I could see an area that was bruised and red on both knees.  Some blood was trickling down both legs towards the socks.

“Oh, em gee!,” I shouted out a second time.  I do not like the sight of blood, despite being a certified first aid, hence this second reaction.

The road where I was was deserted.  It had been deserted through the run.  I knew that I could meet a group of motorbike riders waiting for passengers some one hundred metres ahead, but for now, I had to deal with this alone.

The knees were muddy, dirty and now showing red streaks of blood.  The pain was deafening!  I tried to resume the run but folding any of the knees was just a pain in the, in the, in the a… knee.  Anyway, I re-examined the wounds and realized that they were mainly affecting the outer part of the skin.  I was convinced that neither the flesh nor muscles of the knee had been affected.  The pain was however another thing, despite my self-triage assessment.

I left the status as is, muddy, bloody knees and all, and restarted my run.  The pain especially when folding the knees for the run was sharp but manageable.  I just had to do the run as initially planned.  I was going to struggle through the new circumstances.  The pain got better with time.  However, my run speed had now been reduced to a much lower pace than before the fall.  I was now being over careful with the road and also reducing the pace due to the pain on the knees.  

In a few moments I reached the vicinity of Sosiani river.  Though the run route was about one-hundred metres from the running river, I could see the many little water streams that run from the hilly side on my left towards the river.  I stopped by one of these streams and washed my hands and attempted to wash my knees.  The pain of the water on the wounds was just unbearable.  I however knew that I had to clean my wounds if I wanted to prevent further complications from the bruises.  I washed away and was soon looking clean.  I resumed my run.

I finally cleared the fourth circuit and did the final finisher circuit that is not the full route.  This finisher is a maximum of three kilometres, and can be cut short by taking any of the many alternate routes back to the finish point.  I like this finisher since it gives me the option to run the full length or drop off and end the run at any time, depending on my energy levels.  I re-examined the place where I had fallen hardly thirty minutes prior.  

It is a place that I should not have fallen at.  However, I still almost fell even on this final round.  There was a small stone protruding about two centimetres from the generally flat ground.  That small stone could cause a tumble if you are not observant.  I had evaded it in the first three rounds, but it had caught up with me on the fourth.  It almost caused another fall on the final.  How small things can be the most damaging!

I do not know whether I did one or two runs on this day.  I had a timer reading 16.72km in 1:30:44, and another second one reading 9.00 in 49:03.  My knees remained painful through the day.  I could hardly fold my knees while walking or seating.  That did not prevent me from doing a 6km leisure walk around the town.  I was almost back to normal by nighttime.  I hope to be fully recovered by the next run… when it comes.

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, December 28, 2022

25 on 25

25 on 25

It was not my intention to run on the day when the Christian faith was in a birthday party, but it just turned out to be.  After all, it is very long since I did a run, as ‘very long’ as nine days.  The last run was the December international marathon aka ‘the boycott version 2’.  On this date of December 16, my running team, once again, boycotted the run, after doing the same in November.  I knew that this would happen since the three regular runners had said or had done everything that they could to ensure that they missed this run…. and they did give it to me the best way that they thought fit.

Let me start with Karl.  He had peeped through my door on Thursday, a day to the run, at about 12.30pm.

“I feel like I can go a ka-tooo kooo run, maybe to tarmac.  Can we go?”

I would usually have said yes, since the tarmac run route just goes from Uthiru, through Kapenguria road all the way to the Lower Kabete road, where you do a U-turn and back.  The run is anything from ten to thirteen kilometres, depending on the tweaks that you add to it.

“But why would you be running when we have the big run tomorrow?,” I asked him even as he kept holding the door ajar.

“Kesho siko, naenda shags, Mwingi, I have something to do.”

So that is how I got the first regret over the attendance of the Friday run.  Of course I did not join him for the Thursday run.  I was not messing the international.

The second semblance of an apology came from Edu.  He had been on a daily run on this month of December for whatever reason.  Marathoners do things that are sometimes not understandable to the rest of us, marathoners and even non-marathoners.  I had met him one week prior, as we were preparing for this run.  This was during the staff party that was meant to mark the end of the year, the first such party since 2019.  Corona had put a break to gatherings and mass events since that time.  The very corona that is now technically eradicated or a live-with disease, or did I hear that it has had a resurgent from where it first started in China?  

The corona that causes COVID-19 disease, which has now infected 661.7M people globally with 6.68M deaths, hence 1% deaths of the confirmed infections.  Kenyan numbers now stand at 342,470 and 5,688 respectively.  Of course, deaths from road accidents in Kenya this year has surpassed this number.  That is why I believe that corona ended and other things took over, but let me get back to the story.

That on December ninth.  It was the end year party, when the dress code was ‘the 70s’, and Edu was adorned with an Afro wig, a waist high pair of trousers with suspenders, with others in similar for guys and girls with short short-skirts.  On this day of the end year party, when I was in a grey suit and tie – which was surely a theme dress.  If anything, I had overdone it since I was even in a pre-70s attire anyway.  I did meet Edu and we talked briefly as we picked the food and drink stamps.  He had mentioned that he would be travelling out of the city from the next week.  He did not mention anything about the marathon.  I was left to add the one-plus-one on this.  For information, that suit was in readiness of a major award, more on this upon enquiry.

Lastly, it was Beryl who did a number on me.  We had had a Wednesday evening run, just two day prior, with compulsion coming from my side, since it was my run day and she had to follow suit.  She had confirmed that she would participate in the Friday run, but not the full distance.  I had my doubts.  She has not participated in any international since the corona pandemic.  I was doubtful that she would be doing a second run, albeit even shorter, two days after this run.  I did not say as much.  It was therefore no surprise when I got a WhatsApp message on the Friday of the run that was brief and to the point, “Have a good run, we shall speak after the run.”

It was therefore a second time in less than three weeks that I was facing an international run alone and lonely.  The things that I do for the team!  The run was the usual.  From Uthiru through Kapenguria road to Lower Kabete road for a brief run, then turn to the Uni farm past Mary Leakey school, then join Kanyariri road to Kanyariri centre for the right turn all the way to the underpass on Wangige road and back straight to Uthiru.  The weather remained warm and a bit sunny.  I cleared the 24.45k in an average of 5min 00sec per km in a 1796-1935m elevation range.

I subsequently vowed not to do nothing for the team.  And took the end of year leave to prove the point.  I was relaxing and enjoying the good holiday, doing nothing, when the run bug bit me on Saturday night.  I therefore woke up early, at eight-thirty, on this Sunday and just left for the run.  I was doing this run at the home of champions, though I did not expect meet any champion on this morning.  After all, it was Christmas day, and most people were preoccupied with the day’s festivities, be it in church or in the hood.  I met lots of singing from the churches along the route.  I hardly met people on the road, even the motorbikes were relatively few on this day.

I was doing my usual circuits on one side of the Sosiani river, with Eldy town rising to its fullness on the other side of the river.  The circuit is just over 5km.  It is mostly hilly, but it is so far the only route that I could formulate, that avoids the vehicular traffic as much as possible.  Avoiding a competition with motor vehicles is one of the things that you want to do with your runs when you have an option.  I did four full loops and a conclusion run on the fifth one that did not go all the way.  I finished the run just before eleven, having covered 25.69k at an average of 5min 11sec per km.  The elevation of the run ranging from 2054m to 2104m.  I just hope that the run bug spares me and allows me to take a rest until I resume the runs officially in January week 2.

Merry Christmas!

WWB, Eldoret, Kenya, Sunday, December 25, 2022

Where runners still run at night, but you must face off with them

Where runners still run at night, but you must face off with them

It is now one week since I was at my shags – yes, my roots, my village, my home!  I had planned to stay for as long as I was loaded.  That plan lasted only two days.  I travelled from Eldoret to Kisumu, then from Kisumu to the local centre of Dudi.  This was on a Friday, the third.  I alighted and immediately removed my mask, since no one, repeat no one, was having a facemask.  The stage people had even joked that, “See a Nairobi person has alighted and brought corona to the village, that is why he has a facemask.  We hope he does not spread it to us who do not have it.”.  They said it loud enough for my benefit.  It worked.

I therefore alighted at Dudi which is in Siaya county.  The travel from Kisumu has just taken about 45-minutes.  My home is about four kilometres from Dudi.  I would get a motorbike from Dudi, just because I was loaded with some items that I had shopped from the local duka.  Otherwise, I would have just walked home and would have been there in about forty-minutes.  It was just about one kilometre from Dudi that I crossed counties from Siaya to Butere-Mumias.  This junction used to have the home of Grace Ogot, the late, and her huzy Prof. Bethwel Ogot.  That home is for sure in Western province.  

I remember the politics of those days, when Grace wanted to be the member of parliament for Gem, where Dudi is.  She got her brakes since it was claimed that she was a resident of the then Kakamega country, before it was hived off into Butere-Mumias.  It was stated that she could not represent people in a county where she did not even reside!  It took some time, but I observed that immaculate home at that junction vacated then completely fall into dilapidation as the Ogot couple moved out and set home in Gem.  Of course, Grace would later become the MP for Gem and serve in that role for two terms.

Those were just memories as I made the right turn on that junction.  Had I not made that right turn, then I would continue being in Siaya county as I went through to Muhaka market, which I know and had frequented, and the rest of the boundary villages, that are just across my home.  Well, I made the right turn and was in a different county.  One more kilometre and I almost got to my primary school.  Almost, since a new road now diverts to the left instead of the traditional road that would have gone past my primary school before the left turn after the primary.

I could see the ironsheet roofing of that long block of my primary.  This was a new block for sure.  This is the place where I studied from class three to eight.  That is the place that moulded me to the form that I have taken into my adulthood.  I remember when I reported for that class three interview, having just come from Kapsabet DEB.  My dad took me to that school in the afternoon on his bike.  I arrived at the school compound and was taken to the headteacher’s office.  

At that point in time the block housing all classes, with the staff room and HM’s office in the middle of it, was a long block with earthen walls and bare floor.  There were no doors or window structures in any of the rooms on that whole long train, apart from the HM’s office.  Each class just had holes on the whole to define windows and doors.  You could, and it happened, that students that got in and out of class through the windows.  It looked strange, having come from Kapsabet town where I had been in a proper classroom made of building blocks, with a set of glass windows and lockable doors.

I had aced that interview conducted at the HM’s office.  It was a verbal one, just on general issues, I believe probably Geography, languages and History.  It is a bit vivid many years later.  However, this I know for sure, that my dad was given a final warning as we left the school ready for my day 1 the next day, “Let not your son come to school with those shoes.  Shoes are for teachers.  Students come here barefoot.”

That warning was strange and I even thought it impossible, since Kapsabet DEB standards were still etched on my mind.

As sure as the sun rises on the East, I was woken up very early the next day to join my siblings into the morning run to school.  And surely all of us were bare foot as we walked the three or so kilometres to school.  I was not just running to school, but I had with me a load of cow dung, wrapped with banana leaves or carried on a cut piece of banana bark.  I was also hauling a piece of euphorbia branch.  

It was a welcome like no other.  The dung would be mixed with the soil that the girls had carried in the same process, to make the material for use in smearing the floor and walls of all classes.  This smearing activity was to be done every Friday from ten to lunch break.  The classes would be hopefully dry after the afternoon ready for the upper classes who were taking afternoon classes.  The boys would use the euphorbia to beef up the fence on the same Friday as the girls were doing the smearing.

I have never been in culture shock!  There was nothing like this in Kapsabet.  In Kapsabet I would be a smartly dressed child walking to school across the Kenya Prisons compound, though I had to take the long route round, since the school gate was on the other side of the shared fence.  But here at Luanda Doho primary school?  None of that!  This was a different ball game.  I would have easily given up my schooling in that third year, but something strange happened that changed all that.  I became that ‘clever boy from Nairobi’.  That title remained as I led my class through the many years of toil and would five years later break an academic record that stands solid to this day, many years later.  That is a story for another day.

Back to the present, and on this Friday, just know that I was passing by next to my primary school on my right, which I could clearly see as the motorbike roared on.  I was at my homestead around one, having been riding for just about ten minutes.  My Diriko village never ceases to amaze me, many years since I knew it.  Despite civilization that has been going on forever, that place remains the greenest place that I have ever seen.  It is still full of trees, grass, live fences and all manner of greenery.  The green carpet is occasionally broken by the presence of some footpath, some house, some farmland that has been harvested and is now bare.  However, there is plenty of grass going around and it grows upto the edges of the house.  The air was fresh and inviting as I got to the homestead.  

My home is perched in a gentle hill.  There is a mango tree that generally marks the centre of the compound.  The mango tree under which I spend most of the daylight hours, doing nothing, just listening to FM radio on the phone and chewing through a long stave of sugarcane.  I could see across the valley to the other side, which is Siaya country by administration.  

I could also still see the other side of the other valley.  That side has the Manyulia market and the road to Butere.  When days were good, over twenty years ago, the same Manyulia market was the place to get to first, if you intended to take the train that stopped at Namasoli halt, just a stone throw from that market.  The train would take you to Butere ‘end of railway line’ on one end, or take you on the opposite direction to Kisumu, then Nairobi, then Mombasa.

I was so relaxed under the shade that I did not even realize how soon the rain would creep in on this Friday.  It did creep in, but saying that would be lying.  Our rain is seen across the valley from many miles as it progressively comes over towards Diriko village.  You can see it whiten the greenery on the horizon as it makes its way from Shiatsala towards Manyulia.  You observe it as it makes gains, whitening the background and enveloping that greenery, until it finally hits home.  And hitting home it does.  

When the rain pounds on the ironsheets of the houses on the compound, you can hear the sound loud and clear.  There are usually no ceiling boards on our home houses.  That means that the start of the rain also marks the end of any talking for those gathered in any house.  You cannot converse when it rains.  The drumming on the roof is so loud that you just survive the ear-shattering sound that persists until the rain subsides.  I am no stranger to this and so the rain welcomed me on this Friday just about six in the evening and I liked the ear-shatter as it lasted.  It however did not persist for long.  It was just a short drizzle.

Finally, I was done with dinner, and I was off to my house.  My house is located about one-hundred metres from the main house, just next to the entrance gate area.  In Luhya tradition, a boy should build his own house as early as he has been initiated, this should be at around fourteen years, just about the time one finishes primary school.  Once you are past initiation, you are expected to setup your own house and start ‘being a man’.  

And building a house is not just a saying.  It is the full works – get the posts, cut the rafters, cut the grass and then carry the posts, grass and rafters to the building site.  After that, dig the holes, plant the posts, trim their tops, hammer the roof structure, rafter the whole structure on the walls and roof, fill in the ‘baked’ soil on the walls and do the thatching... and start your life in that structure.

From then on, you should not bother your mother with any requests for food.  You should provide your own food by getting someone to cook for you, read, marry.  If you delay this inevitable of getting your person to cook for you, then your options are to stick to your father’s side at mealtimes, so that you benefit from the food that your mother(s) provide to your father, or alternatively, sort yourself out.  You could plead with your mother to make food for you, but there were no guarantees.  She would likely tell you to get your own cooker, on your face.  You therefore had to go slow on food issues or learn to become your father’s friend.  

The other methods of survival once you have your house, also known as Lisimba, or simba, or lion in English, is to start visiting your sisters-in-law and be lucky to get some food from them.  That is why in western culture the ‘shemeji’ is an important person.  Of course, the husbands of the shemeji’s do not take it very lightly when you frequent their houses.  They start hinting that you should be giving them a ‘shemeji’ too.  Believe me, after you build a house in western Kenya culture, then it is now survival for the fittest!

That is not all.  When you get a house you are on your own and you must survive, both for your own sake, and for the sake of the whole homestead.  The man, or men if you are lucky, protect the homestead.  They deal with the dangers that may arise.  It is their job to keep everyone safe.  The houses at our homesteads usually do not have washrooms within the structures.  You have to get out of the house to obey that nature call at the external shared washroom or the natural greenery, depending the type of call.  

Despite all dangers being manifested in the night, be it wild animals, fear of the unknown, fear for the sake of fear, or even bad elements, the men must be ready to get out in the pitch dark of the night and face the darkness.  The women and children are exempt from this compulsory going out business, and they are allowed to relieve themselves in containers in the house if it means so, or, to wake up the men in the house to take them out for the call.

I was therefore alone in my big three-bedroom house that was unusually dark and quiet.  The house does not yet have power supply, though the wiring has been done and just awaits supply.  I therefore got into the house with my kerosene lantern and would soon prepare to sleep, after blowing it out.  It was hardly nine.  I am used to sleeping the next day.  This was just too early.  This was going to be an interesting night.  It was cold due to lack of a ceiling cover, and the environment was generally cold anyway.  It was eerie quiet.  Even a leaf dropping onto the ironsheet roof, from the nearby other mango tree just next to my house, made a loud cling on the iron, based on the circumstances.

Anyway, I forced myself to bed and soothed myself to sleep by listening to FM radio on my phone.  At some point I did fall asleep and somehow switched off the radio.  The night remained quiet.  The ironsheet roof remained the cover of the house.  I slept.  Something woke me up at some point in the night.  I thought I heard something brush through the ironsheets.  It was as brief as a five second thing.  It stopped.  I was still thinking about it when a bird, for sure, flew into the darkness of the house.  

I could then hear it flapping its wings and it circled round and round and round inside the house, probably flying on the roof area.  If it had got into the house through the gap between the walls and the iroonsheet roof, then that bird would have a hard time making its way out of the pitch darkness of the house and out to the external world.  And it was true.  The bird moved round and round and round.  There was no way of getting it out.  It would have to get out on its own, when its time was right.  I ignored it, left it to do its rounds, and got back to sleep.

The call of nature came knocking at some point in the dark quiet night.  The men must go out.  That was the law.  I so I had to get out.  With torch at hand and slasher on the other, I quietly groped through the darkness of the house to trace the doors, opening them one at a time, in the darkness, trying to keep the opening sound as soundless as possible.  

I had a torch alright, but I have survived this type of life for many years and know the use of a torch at such a time.  You need to keep your eyes accustomed to the dark when you wake up and get out.  A torch beam would spoil your otherwise good visibility in the night.  You keep the torch off, you let your eyes adjust to the invisibility of the darkness.  The torch is an emergency tool, just like the weapon.  It is not to be used, until and unless it is necessary.

I unbolted the outer door and was out of the house, in the pitch darkness.  It was dark alright.  There was zero visibility.  I for sure could not see anything in the night.  I was soon back to the house to continue the rest of the sleep until morning.  Saturday is church day the compound was quiet for most day, as I continued taking my stop under the main mango tree.  Later that day my sister-in-law lamented over some night runner, or runners, who have refused to give her house any peace by their persistent walks in the night.  

That under-the-mango-tree rest also brought a moment of reflection.  I had already spent almost three thousand shillings by the evening of the second day.  And the news that I had landed had not yet done its proper rounds.  I knew that I would be badly broke when the locality gets to know that their son from the city was at the village.  

I just had to save myself by leaving when Sunday dawned, traversing the same greenery back to Dudi, then back to Kisumu.  Of course, that night bird had disturbed my night for a second time, and those strange sounds like roof sheets being brushed by a stick still persisted on this second night.  To cap it all, I still had to go out in the pitch dark of Saturday night, but was still unlucky not to shine the spotlight on some bad guy, maybe next time.

Since slipping away from shags on September 5, I have done three long runs, with the last one being having been just today at this altitude of 2100m here in Eldoret.  Today’s run, just like the rest of them has been difficult to handle.  My legs feel strained and the cross-country route through the partly muddy trails do not help much.  I average 5.30min per kilometre and I feel like hell on earth after every run!  

I long to go back to Nairobi, where the altitude is a bit favourable at 1800m.  I long to be back to the city, where corona is still real and facemasks have some semblance of being effective.  Nonetheless, corona remains real and those in denial should quickly get back to the reality of the situation.  When you have 225,736,297 global infections* and 4,648,356 deaths, with 243,725 and 4,906 respectively, being the numbers for Kenya, then you need no more convincing that corona is a real deal.

*source: worldometers website

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, Sep. 13, 2021

New year that is not new - how 2021 started

New year that is not new - how 2021 started

When I did the end of year run over the lunch hour on Thursday, December 31, 2020, I was doing this to achieve two objectives.  One was to fulfil the two runs a week practice that I had established for some time now, and two, I wanted to run the Friday run in advance, with the next day being a holiday.

My run around Pioneer estate in Eldoret remained the same that I have now become well accustomed to.  This run is made up of four circuits, with each circuit just about five kilometres each.  A final warm-down circuit is available just in case I still have some energy reserves.  This final circuit is about 4k, but generally on the same route as the earlier four rounds, as I head to the finish line.

I started the run at noon when the weather was downcast.  It looked like it could rain.  The cloud cover that had started a day before had now reached its crescendo and for sure, some rain would have to fall out of the sky – no doubt.  It was now just a matter of when, not if.  This cloud cover was a welcome relief since it has been sunny and dry since I started my holiday in mid-December.  There has not been a drop of rain ever since.  However, the clouds started to fill the sky on Tuesday, and by Wednesday, we had a fully cloud-covered sky.  On Thursday there was no way the sun could even shine through the dark umbrella of clouds up there.  Rain was a must.

The weather remained still, even cold, when I started on the run.  It was not long before I would face the cold wind, hardly one kilometre into my run.  I was heading towards the Sosiani river when the cold intensified.  This was my first run in December in such a cold.  I have been running in the hot sun, suffering a dehydration headache by the time I hit 5k.  Today I was shivering badly, hardly before the second kilometre.

The run continued and the first circuit was soon done.  However, the drizzle started just as I began my second circuit.  If I kept going, then I would be at Sosiani river in ten minutes.  By then it would be too late to take shelter, should the rain get heavier when I was at that section.  So, should I continue with the run or abort it?

I decided that it would be worthwhile to take the risk and even be rained on.  After all, I have been running in the sun for so long.  One day run in the rain would be OK.  I therefore decided to keep going with my second circuit.  The drizzle continued even as I went by Sosiani river.  I would be out of the river section less than five minutes later, and would be back to the trail far from the river.

The drizzle continued, though it did not increase.  The drizzle was gone and the weather remained cold and downcast by the time I was on the fourth circuit.  The otherwise dusty paths had now been sprinkled with the showers to diminish their dust emissions.  My run was therefore not dusty, nor wet, since the rain had not been so much.

I was glad that I was doing this Friday run on a Thursday, since the weather was just perfect for a run.  No sun, no rain, a bit cold, but the manageable kind of cold.  I would soon finish the four full circuits and face the final warm-down circuit that would bring the run home.  The run ended in a time of 2.17.13 over a 25.6k distance.  I was just glad that I was done with runs for the year 2020.

Now it was time to face the new year.

But wait a minute!  Which new year?  In fact, what is new year?  With a curfew at ten and a prohibition against gatherings, there would be no mid-night shouts and merry making.  There would be no midnight noises for the first time in forever.  Can you say that there was a new year if there was no shout of ‘Happy New Year’ at mid-night?  Well, for the first time, there was no such shout.  The night was quiet.  The streets were quiet.  There were no sounds of any movements in the night environment, be it of people, motorbikes or vehicles.  If anything, there was even a drizzle as midnight approached…. and then the midnight just passed.  For the first time, there was not new year!

To prove that there was no new year, I woke up on what was supposed to be a new year, Jan. 1, 2021 and there was nothing new.  The world was still as gloomy as it was the previous day.  If anything, the weather had gone worse.  Those clouds that we thought would bring forth the much-anticipated rains had now dissipated, and the sky had gone back to clear blue.  I was even glad that I had done my run the previous day, since this January 1 date was just too sunny and hot to even contemplate a run.

I would in a moment be doing self-reflection and realizing that new year was what you made it to be.  We have been conditioned to believe that there is some special day in a year, called new year, when things start from zero, and some miracles happen to fulfil your wish list.  Unfortunately, let me burst that bubble.  There is nothing like a new year when new things ‘just happen’ and some ‘new force’ comes to the earth to drastically change your life based on your that wish list, aka ‘new year resolution’.  Forget it!

New year day is like any other day.  Do you usually enjoy your day, regardless of the month/date?  If you do, then continue enjoying each and every day as it comes.  Even if that day coincidentally is called January 1.  Do you want to change something in your life?  Work on it today.  Do not wait for January 1 and expect that some ‘magic’ will come with that day.  Sorry, do what you want every day, any day.  There is no magic that happens on Jan. 1, sorry.

If you do not believe me, then ask yourself this – on Jan. 1, 2020 we started the year with fanfare and wished that life would be good.  By that date, there had been a new virus called corona, discovered in China.  That virus was causing a new disease called COVID-19.  On that day, we had ZERO confirmed cased of COVID-19 in the world, according to the WHO*.  There was nothing.  The attention of the world was still on this new disease, which was yet to be put into context.  On that day we made new year wishes that this new disease should ‘pass’ and made resolutions that it shall not get anywhere near us.

*https://covid19.who.int/

Ask yourself the same question now.  It is Jan. 1, 2021.  We all know that our 2020 wishes on the corona front did not come true.  The new corona disease spread like wildfire and devastated the whole world, as if we never made any new year resolution to keep it at bay.  Not only that, it hit us with a vengeance killing many people that we know – locally and internationally, prominent and commoners, celebrities and celebrators.  It infected and affected many people that we know – our family, our workmates, our neigbours, our acquaintances, our leaders, our selves!  It caused disease burdens, infected and affected human bodies, caused body aches – forced people into hospitals.  Forced and self-quarantine become the norm.

Look at Jan. 1, 2021, when we have 84,418,109 COVID-19 infections and 1,834,807 deaths globally.  In Kenya, the numbers are 96,614 with 1,681 deaths.  So why were we assuming that a new year wish was the antidote?  Why would we believe that is shall be different as we start a new year?  Of course, we cannot lose hope, but we should be waiting for a particular date in the year to make resolutions.  Tackle things as they come.  

Good news – It is not all gloom.  The death rate from COVID-19 has remained low (2% globally, 2% locally).  Many people who get the corona virus shall recover, mostly without even need for hospitalization.  And even more music to the year – we have at least three vaccines approved for use and already in use (from Pfizer-BionTec, AstraZeneca, Moderna).  Our Kenyan shutdown of most sectors is being lifted progressively.  Even all our schools are being open tomorrow.  We shall just live with masks, social distancing, hand washing and self-quarantine with healthy living, in the event that we get the virus.

You still do not believe me that there was not new year?  There is usually no new year without fireworks at midnight right?  Well, there were no fireworks at midnight this time round.  Some people tried their fireworks at 10.00pm before the curfew started…. but that was still not at midnight.

My parting shot is that we should live our lives fully, one day at a time.  Let us start doing what we want to do on, the date that we want to it.  We cannot just be waiting for January 1 to somehow, miraculously change our lives or start something new.  Change your life on any calendar day of the year.  Start anything new on any calendar day of the year.  Do not wait for January.  Just like the corona issue taught us, we cannot live on ‘wishful-hopeful’ based on a particular calendar day.  Hoping that making a resolution on such a day will somehow change things.  Let us live every day fully, no waiting for a particular day of the year to make wishes.

WWB, the Coach, Eldy, Kenya, Jan. 3, 2021

What became of Christmas?

What became of Christmas?

It was either real, or I was dreaming.  I had tired my body to the max, to enable me have a completely restful sleep.  I had just done the 2hr 15min run on Thursday on the hot heat of Eldy to induce this tiredness.  Though I did not end up with a ‘long’ headache like what I encountered after the Monday run, I still had a headache nonetheless.  That was dehydration reminding me that water was essential.  The Thursday run did however have some short spells of cloud cover, hence the total run in the sun was reduced and so did the total headache after the run.

Anyway, the next day, a Friday, would be Christmas.  My plan was to take a good long night sleep and wake up late on Christmas day.  After all, wasn’t there a curfew on Christmas this time round?  Wasn’t Christmas even cancelled this year?  I thought I heard that bit of info on the news, where the powers-that-be dared anybody to dare get out at night in the name of Christmas?

It would be a matter of wait and see if Christmas-2020 would turn out to be a real thing.  For sure, there was no midnight shout to welcome Christmas, meaning that it was starting to appear like it would not.  I already know that there shall be no much shouting one week from today, when the New Year dawns.  We live in changed times, thanks to corona.  I will not even be surprised if the PTB shall cancel New Year altogether – just watch this space.

*PTB = powers-that-be

I was for sure in bed.  It was probably Friday… it was surely Friday!  I was getting back to reality after the good night sleep and was still unsure of what was reality or unreal.  I started regaining perception of reality and it seemed to be morning as the light seemed to fill the room from the large window just besides the bed.  I was however still kind-of-asleep and I had not yet had enough of my full intended eight-hours of sleep.  I still had probably another two hours to get to the expected dose.

So, who was daring me in this morning?  Why was I stirring in my sleep?  Why was Christmas waking me up by force?  By ‘2-10’ as my old folks would say!

“Una ni ita mlevi?,” I thought I heard or maybe I dreamt that up.

But it did not take long to confirm!

“We, Jose, unasema mimi mlevi.  Ulinipatia pombe mimi?”

This was reality.  The sound was surely coming from the next compound.  The sound was coming in loud and clear, into my second-floor apartment that overlooks ‘the den’.

I have known of this den since I started my stay here.  It is where local brew is made and consumed.  It is the only place where I hear of, “Nipe ya mbao” (serve me something worth twenty shillings).  I have heard noises and commotion from that joint before.  I can assume that noise and arguments is the expected daily routine.  Most of these arguments end up in some form of fight, based on my observations.  Was it not just last Tuesday that someone guy confessed to all and sundry that he had been hit by a glass bottle by Jebet?

Back to the present, reality was slowly sinking in that something was going on at the den.  The sound was loud and clear.  Soon the sounds would become many, mostly from the male side of sounds.  I would gather that someone had called another one a drunk.  That was the main contention at seven on this Friday morning.  Most voices were so slurred, loud and incoherent that I was convinced that they were under the influence, no doubt.  After all, normally speaking, how big a deal is it to be called ‘mlevi’?  To the extent of….

“Haki ya nani… Mungu moja… lazima… lazima tumalizane na… na Jose leo!”

I could hear sound like furniture moving around and a door being forced open.

“Ile changaa nilikunywa tangu asubuhi lazima itaishia hapa.  Jose atanijua!”

There would be sounds of items moving here and there, while in the whole mix I would also hear some voices like trying to separate some fighting motions.

The melee did not last for more than five minutes, since there after I could sense the end of the situation as the aggressor seemed to make amends….

“Mimi Mogaka siwezi itwa mlevi, hata nikunywe siku nzima!  Kwanza Madhe,” he paused, “We, Madhe… Madhe!...,” he seemed to be calling someone’s attention, “Hebu nipe ya mbao… Jose atalipa!”

The very Jose he had been fighting… they were still friends!

So, this is what was disturbing my sleep?  For crying out loud!  Can’t a drinker drink in peace and sleeper sleep in peace?  What has come to the world on Christmas day!  

I would soon drift back to sleep, that sweet morning sleep that is usually short but enjoyable.  However, as fate would have it, this sleep would not last for long….

“Haiya yaya yai – huyu nugu ana niita masikini!  Ati sina pesa!”

Oh, come on.  Are these people real?

“Mimi Oti!  Mimi!  Ati sina pesa – mimi!  Walayi huyu Njoro atanijua leo!”

There would follow another commotion with chairs being dragged on the floor followed by more shouting and more noises as the boys seem to come into the scene to separate the apparent duo.

It was hardly eight and I was now getting used to the den being active.  That must have been the last of the morning commotion, so I thought.  It was becoming quiet and I was about to make a third shot at sleep, when without notice…

“Merry Christmas kila mtu.  Leo ni Krisi!  Hebu tukunywe!  Madhela, hebu nipe ingine ya mbao…”

But that shout did not even end before a new development occurred.  I could hear a shrill voice of some seemingly agitated lady interrupt…

“We Mike uko tu hapa…. Umetuacha bila chakula… Una itisha tu za mbao!  Wuwi!!  Mike uneniua na watoyi!  Lazima turudi nyumbani utupatie Krismas!  Sitoki hapa bila Mike!”

More commotion and name-calling would follow as all and sundry got into the argument, some supporting the man, others supporting the lady.  It would get ugly!  U-g-l-y I tell you!  All gloves were off when they started abusing each other, as loudly as their voices could allow, on how the man was useless and could not provide for his family.  She even said his manhood has become useless.  U-g-l-y it turned, as Mike threated to show all and sundry the so called ‘useless’ manhood for all to see and judge…. Of course, with some supporting the move and others opposing it!

I was forced to jump out of bed after this episode.  My sleep had now been spoilt without any opportunity for getting it back on track.  Come off it already!  What has become of Christmas?  It is now a day for name-calling, abuses, fighting and a lesson in anatomy!  I am ashamed to say a Merry Christmas following everything that I have encountered so far… and the day is still young!

WWB, the Coach, Eldy, Kenya, Dec. 25, 2020

Running back is never easy

Running back is never easy

That Tuesday, December 15 run should have been the last run in the year.  It was a city run and it was the usual run through the Mary Leakey route and back to Uthiru.  It did not have anything unusual, apart from the blazing sun that contributed to the 2hours of misery on that route.  But was the sun any surprise?  No!  It has been a hot December and I do not recall any rain falling since the clock hit Dec. 1 on that Monday midnight.  

It is now just a matter of living with the heat.  It is likely to get worse as we head to January and impossible in February, before the long rains bring a relief in March.  That means that we better get used to the heat… and probably that is why Dec. 15 should have been the last run, until the heat dies down…. in March!

It was however not to be.  I found myself cutting my holiday short when I moved through the motions of dressing up onto the run gear and just leaving.  However, this was no longer a run in the city in the sun, this was a run in the home of champions… with the sun!  The 5km circuit that I have now established become the ‘new normal’ on this Monday, exactly one week since I had vowed to ‘retire’.

The route is established, hence I am now able to just set off on that circuit and just run it through, without much ado.  Much had remained unchanged on that route, apart from the drying vegetation and dried-up streams that would otherwise be forcing its waters from the soggy soil on the river sides onto the winding Sosiani river.  Their impression on the ground remained evident even as I ran through that part of the route.  Sosiani itself was not its old self.  It seemed a bit thin.  

The available water had retreated to the middle of the river course, leaving a larger than usual river bank on either sides, with stones and occasional tree stumps evident even from my running path some one-hundred metres away.  It was surely dry and drying.  I was surprised that there was hardly a rain in Eldy.  I had now stayed for five days and had not seen (or heard, if at night) any rain.  It was hardly last month when many of my runs would be rained through or cancelled due to mid-day rains.  This was a big change!

The Monday run went well by all definitions, bearing in mind the heat that prevailed over the lunch hour time slot.  I did not know that a run in the overhead sun could be that tiring!  It turned out to be!  I had initially thought that the tiredness was due to my coming back from retirement, but it seemed not.  The tiredness was a direct result of the heat.  I know this because I was having a headache by the time I had done the 2hr 15min run through five circuits.  

A headache after a run is a sure sign of dehydration.  But do not take my word for it.  I would find myself taking a litre of water, laced in Coke, rather Coke laced with water immediately after the run.  It was not long before I was taking another litre of juice in two large gulps, ‘just like that’.

It is now seven hours after the run and my thirst level remains fairly unquenched and the headache fairly unchanged.  This surely must have been the hottest run taken since retirement, though it is likely not to be the last one this year.  This is because a marathoner needs a ‘big tiredness’ in readiness for Christmas and another big one in readiness for New Year.  A big tiredness is also possible after a run.  Will there be any retirement at this rate?  Is there even need to retire, if we are kind-a-living one day at a time in these days of Corona?

Corona is so much in the air, and we even have a new ‘fast spreading strain’ that has ‘mutated’ from the original one that we know of.  This new one is believed to have originated in the UK just this week.  Getting Corona, whether the usual or the new one, would usually mean a compulsory 14-day quarantine – from all activities, including runs, that is for the majority of cases that do not end up in hospital ICU.  

Technically, these fourteen days should be the ‘holed up’ type, where you are locked in the house without a chance to get out of the house (if you follow the expectations of quarantine).  That means that we just need to keep running while waiting for that forced 2-week break when it comes.  A runner is in a better position when the runner has accumulated enough mileage, sorry, kilometage, before facing such a forced break.  That means only a two-week downtime since the last run.  The last run+2-weeks should remain your calculation on the duration of being ‘holed up’ when it happens.  The nearer the last run, the better for you.

So, what is the parting shot?  Corona numbers* are now 77,487,024 infections globally with 1,704,893 deaths and 54,379,440 recovering, while Kenyan numbers are 94,614, 1,644 and 76,060 respectively.  The numbers are bad.  However, we already have two vaccines approved in the US (read, approved for worldwide use) that are already getting into people’s arms in the US, UK and Canada (and Australia and soon rest of Europe-27).  These two being Pfeizer-BionTech and Moderna – the first with its neg-70 storage quagmire, and the latter with normal fridge temperature storage.  The third candidate, Astra-Zeneca is not far from approval in the US (read as before).  

That means that Corona is heading for a defeat – new mutant or not.  With the vaccine being a bit far from Kenya, a 14-day rest shall remain our immediate treatment for Corona going forward, in the unfortunate event that it hits us even after we face-mask, hand-wash, sanitize and social-distance.  Before then…. keep running since you never know when you shall be forced to take that ‘treatment’.

*source - worldometers website on 21-Dec-2020

WWB, the Coach, Eldy, Kenya, 21-Dec-2020

Ending October with Numbers, Distance and Str-wrong medicine

Ending October with Numbers, Distance and Str-wrong medicine

Today is the end of month.  Despite being end of October, the corona pandemic has taken no cognizance of the end month joy.  It has instead continued to pour misery upon misery onto humanity.  The number of COVID-19 confirmed infections stands at 46,053,200 worldwide, with 1,195,935 fatalities and 33,322,659 recoveries.  That puts the mortality rate at 2.6%.  Kenya can also not celebrate end month, since at number 73 on ranking based on total infections, we now have 53,797 confirmed cases, with 981 deaths and 35,876 recoveries.  Our mortality rate stands at 1.8%.  Is there anything to celebrate given these numbers?

Of course yes, there is reason to celebrate.  First and foremost, the fatality rate of corona aka ‘the thing’ or TT in short remains low.  2.6% is bad, but lower than had been feared.  I remember during the earlier days of the pandemic, one of my pg-classmates on the WhatsApp group stating that we shall hit a million infections by six-months.  

I had really questioned him on that assertion, since I had informed him that the mortality rate was just about 2% and 1M deaths would mean that 50M infections of Kenyans (all Kenyans!), which I told him was just impossible in six months.  Well, that was a discussion in April, the early days of TT.  We are now six months into the prediction and our mortality is 1.8%.  I am glad that I believed in the strength and resilience of humanity, unlike my colleague who was on the grim-side of things.

Is there reason to celebrate?  Of course, yes!  Life continues and streaks of good news still come our way despite the pandemic.  We have many vaccines on trial with some already on use to first line workers in some countries such as Russia.  Many more vaccines are on phase three trials aka larger population trial before it can be rolled out to the masses.  This is quite good news.  

Management practice for TT are also now well established and even in Kenya we do have home-based-care for COVID-19 patients, as the first line of management, with hospitalization being the last resort for only severe cases.  This means that we are progressively managing and soon conquering the TT thing.

I had my own instance of celebration this week.  It was raining on Monday and could not go for the customary Monday run.  I was therefore confident that the substitute run on Tuesday would take place.  I had later on gone to town to send some item by courier since the run of this Monday was already not possible.  Though going for a medical was not in the works, I just did a spur of the moment decision after the courier visit to take advantage of being in town to also got to the clinic.

I had decided to pass by the health centre to check on my left wheel which has been disturbing me for a while, and I have written blog upon blog about this particular heel, that hinge that gives me pain during and after every run.  However, it does not pain on the days that I do not do my runs.  It was therefore not aching on this Monday, since my last run was on Friday.  I was even having self-doubt on the wisdom of visiting the clinic on this day, but I found myself matching to the clinic building anyway.

What would you do if you went to the doc with a stomachache and got treated for a headache instead?  That analog depicts my experience at the clinic on this Monday.  As usual of any medical, I had to have the vitals checked first.  While at the cubicle for the checks, the nurse did not believe that I had a painful leg at all.

“Are you sure?,” she asked, “You have no lift whatsoever!”

I did not know what to say.  I should have not come here in the first place.  I knew that this would happen.  I was now sure that this was a mistake.

I would soon be called to the doc’s place.  The clinic had very few patients on this day.  I could only count three.  Business must be bad!  If people are not falling sick, then corona is really bad!  Most of the medical staff, including the doc whom I was now talking to, had most of the time on this day been glued to the TV screen.  

It was the occasion of the unveiling of the BBI* document at Nairobi Bomas venue.  The meeting in Nairobi had attracted national following.  This clinic was no different.  The president jibing his deputy about the deputy being impatient and seeking the big seat too early had caused lots of laughter even here at the Eldy clinic, almost 400km from the real venue of the meeting.

*Building bridges initiative, a document detailing constitutional reforms for Kenya, aimed at averting the post-election political unrest

I was not at the doc’s cubicle.  The doc looked at the papers from the nurse and without much enquiry started, “Oh, I see why you are here, these numbers are high!”

“What numbers?”

“These vitals.  We need to deal with this.  It is good that you came in at this point,” he continued, while still affixed to the numbers on the papers.  I could see some two numbers were written in red amid the lots of text that filled the paper.  I did not decipher what the numbers meant and why they were in red while the rest of text was in black writing.

“Let me send you to the lab,” he added, then as if on an afterthought, “Any other problem?”

Very funny!  I thought.  

“I actually came here because of a persistent pain on my left heel”

“You mean not for this?,” he pointed at the card.

I would soon be out of the doc’s and it did not take long to be through with the lab thing.  I had been referred to another hospital, about 2km away, to get an x-ray of the feet.  I walked and was at that hospital after about ten minutes.  Despite the number of people being so few at that hospital, their reception area was so disorganized that it took me over thirty-minutes to get a booking.  

The x-ray process was however very fast.  Despite this, it was just past five when I finally got that A4 size negative film that they call x-ray film.  By then the principal clinic was already closed.  I would have to continue my medical journey on the next day.  What a wasted day… and a missed run day.

So, I missed the Monday run and was still due for another trip to the clinic on Tuesday.  I still have a Tuesday meeting from ten, and hence had to visit the clinic in the afternoon.  The doc looked at that dark film and nodded.

“There is nothing to worry!  All is normal!”

That was music to ears.  No wonder I had not wished to come to this place in the first place.  Nonetheless, I still have this pain to deal with and I was now hoping that the prescribed drugs would ensure that I do not ever visit a hospital because of a leg.

I was therefore doing the Monday run on Wednesday, and as a consequence, was now doing the Friday run on Saturday.  Yes, today being a Saturday, I did my Friday run.  I just repeated the routine runs that I have done in the month of October.  Just running the trail, the mostly uneven trail, for the five circuits.  I was just glad that the run ended at some point, since it was a tough run on a hot day.  This was also a run of significance – the last run on the last day of the month.  After 2hr 16min 26sec, I was done with the last run of the month.  I was 6km short of the 31km that this day commemorates.

WWB, the Coach, Eldy, Kenya, Saturday, Oct. 31, 2020