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Showing posts with label Museum hill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Museum hill. Show all posts

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

Sunday, March 8, 2020

Beyond zero that almost become zero

Beyond zero that almost become zero


When I was traveling back from TZ on that Monday after the marathon, my mind was still grappling with the possibility of running another competitive marathon hardly six days after the TZ full.  This was against the background of a chatter, that I had already had in the shuttle, that the folks were ‘not boarding’ this run.  They were giving it a wide berth since this run brushed the wrong side of their political convictions.  

Their stand was that it was the government that should be in charge of medicare, and not the runners!  Of course, this type of debate is hard to win.  After all, doesn’t every run have a cause that the government should be in charge of, but we still go for them?  Ndakaini for water, Stanchart for ophthalmology and Mutuini for literacy?  

However, believe me when I tell you that you cannot win an argument over political convictions.  The other argument that you cannot win is one on religious convictions.  I have learnt to respect these two philosophies according to points of view of the people involved, and would change the topic in a hurry when these topics come up.

So there I was, seated on ‘jampu siti’, listening to the backbenches saying that the BZ marathon was a no-goner.  As already stated, I did not wish to join in.  From my point of view, the only reason why I was likely to miss this run was just because I was tired from the Kili.  My political view on this event was hidden from view.  

Due to the various points of view, this marathon was therefore not mentioned much on our WhatsApp discussions.  It was as if all were afraid to talk about it.  I kept my quiet too, even as people shared all manner of things on WhatsApp including some meme about some football in EPL, which is responsible for many lost bets.

I made a final decision to participate in this marathon when that SMS that beeped on my phone on a Feb. 26 came through.  The deal was just too good…
Register before Feb. 28 and have your running kits delivered for free within Nairobi… 
 
Imagine being seated at Uthiru and you see that BZ rider coming your way with a kit – without even raising a leg!  Who could resist such a do nothing at all, free delivery of the kit?  Not me!

Little did I know that there was a catch to this message?  The catch came about when I registered online, paid up by card and had to make a choice on how to get the kit.  And as sure as the sun rises from the East, there was no option for ‘free delivery’.  What we had on that website was a choice of either ‘collect from KICC’ or ‘collect from AK Nyayo Stadium’.

“Liars!,” I shouted loud while looking at the computer screen, two thousand shillings already deducted from my card.
“These lying #$%@,” I could not resisting vitrioling. 
I almost called my bank to have the transaction reversed, but what had been done had now been done.
I had egg all over my face as I painfully selected ‘collect from KICC’.
“KICC indeed!,” I could not stop.

However, that was not the end of it.  I was not going to take this lie lying down.  I went to the contact pages of the BZ marathon as indicated on the website and called the telephone number provided of the organizers.  The phone rang answered.  I called the second number listed on the page.  It rang and timed out.
“For crying out loud!,” I cried out loud!

Finally, I got to one of those ‘fill the form below to contact us’ website sections and filled it up, stated to the IMG organizers that they had promised delivery of kits and they had no choice but to deliver the kit to my address in Uthiru, which I indicated on that form.  I went further to tell them that I would be expecting that kit by the time I am would be back to the city.  I left my contacts in case they had a rejoinder….


But… Here I was, traveling back from TZ on a Monday.  There was no response from IMG or BZ.  Then… Then it just occurred to me that I could as well collect the kit from KICC, now that my shuttle would be dropping me at their city centre’s office near Jeevanjee.  

I would lose nothing by walking the 1km to the KICC collection point, though I was still feeling cheated, even as I guided my footsteps through Muindi Bingu street, then City Hall way before getting to KICC.  I passed through security and was at the KICC grounds to collect my kit.

More bad news awaited….
“I have come to collect my kit, and that of my colleague Barbara.”
“Let me see, let me check,” the lady at the 21km registration desk started on the list, four other eyes from her two colleagues following suit.
“Sorry, your name is not in the list,” she said, “Let us try Barbara’s.  What is her other name?”
I told them.

They repeated the routine of looking at the list.
Two minutes later, “Sorry your names are not on the list.  Did you register?”
“Why would I be here?,” I thought of responding.  Instead, my good nature took over the conversation, “Of course.  See this confirmation from Beyond Zero,” I showed them the phone screen, where the email confirmation was already open.

They did another check, and another “Your names are not on the list.”
That is when the lightbulb hit them and they asked for new data, “We need the reference number that you got from Pesapay.”
While mine was one email down my inbox, I had to call Barbara and wait for her to respond, which took about ten minutes.  However, she got me the long reference number.

That would not be the end…..
“What cause are you running for?”
“Are you people for real?,” I almost shouted.  I do not know why that shout did not come from my mouth.
“But I already provided this information during registration?,” I said, surprised that I was this restrained.
“Yes, but we do not have the registration details.”
“You people are messed up!,” why I failed to say this statement of truth still makes me wonder upto now!

They would finally read this information from the same message that came from Pesapay.  And just when I thought that I would have a good ending….
“There goes,” she handed me a Tee and a number, “that is for Barbara.”
I held it, in a manner of to confirm the two items.
“And that is your,” she handed another duo.
 
I remained put.
“Anything a miss?”
“Yes!,” I responded, “Where are the bags?”
The three looked at each other.  Can you believe that they just said a casual, “We do not have them yet.”

I left KICC vowing not to participate in this run.  Enough was enough!


Barbara would later send me a message that she was looking forward to yet another marathon with the very coach.  But the clincher came when Beryl sent a WhatsApp message that we shall be running on Sunday to compensate for the IKM ‘running for love’ marathon that she missed. 
That does it!
 
I was going for this run.  I could not let the gals down.  This run was happening….


And happening in did, when I woke up at five on this Sunday morning and took an early breakfast.  I had hardly slept for five hours, having gone to bed around one.  It is the alarm from the two phones that got me out of bed, cursing.  The phones were so far from my reach, and were set so loud, that I just had to get up and be sober by the time I had managed to silence them.  I just had to be read to leave. 

I left the house at ten to six and walked to the Nakuru highway to get a vehicle to town.  I was in a matatu by five past six.  The vehicles traveled smoothly until we got to Westlands, when we faced the traffic jam.  I already knew what it was… road closure.

I disembarked at Villa Rosa, as all vehicles were being diverted to the left, onto the road next to that Villa.  The time was just about 6.40am.  The road towards town, just after Rosa, was free of any traffic.  I would soon start meeting up with the runners as all walked towards Nyayo.  

I would soon start jogging towards Nyayo, a distance that turned out to be four kilometres.  I should however be thanking that jog, since I reached the starting line at 6.58am and hardly had any time to settle down before the run started at exactly seven.  And the start was without any fanfare, just a countdown and off we left.

The weather was cool, following the previous night’s rains.  The run started on Uhuru highway outside the Nyayo stadium and we started running on the way back towards Villa Rosa. 
“I should have just have waited there!”, I thought out loud. 
 
We ran on the overpass at Museum hill roundabout and were once again down onto Uhuru highway to run back towards Nyayo.  Two runs within the city centre, at Parliament road and Haile Sellasie avenue made up for some distance, before we were back to Nyayo stadium to take a left turn on Bunyala road, all the way to Jogoo road, and back to the stadium via Lusaka road.

There was plenty of water available to the runners at the various water points along the route, each point about five kilometres from the previous one.  The weather remained cool.  The weather remained good.  Back to Uhuru highway and we had to take some bit of Mombasa road upto Belle Vue and back.  It was quite a relaxed run, and I did not feel any strain at all.  The run was just pure fun, no pressure, lots of company, lots of water…. And of course, the very fine weather.

I would finally get to the finish point at Nyayo stadium, clocking 1.38.08 for 21.46 (4.34min/km pace) according to Endo, while Runkeeper gave me a 1.38.15 for 21.24km (4.38min/km pace).  As per convention, pick the worst of both world to get your final stats – so 21.24 in 1.38.15 it is! 
Let me see if the official results shall tally. 

Apart from the tight security within the stadium, where runners were hardly being allowed to stay around, all seemed well and all finishers were jovial.  However, one thing was still missing…

“Where do we collect our medals?,” I approached some lady at the stadium, who was adorning a nametag in a manner to suggest that she was part of the organization of the marathon.
She looked at me, unsure.  The response did not surprise me, “Eh… Ah… I also do not know!”
Some runner would soon appear within the stadium with a medal hanged on his neck.  He is the one who directed me to get out of the stadium and get the medal ‘somewhere out there’

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Mar. 8, 2020