The beach run – part 3
The head of delegation informed the members that the hotel food was ‘already too monotonous’ and that he was aware of that. To save us from this, he declared that Saturday dinner would be taken at a location away from the hotel. He did not divulge the location, leaving it to the category of ‘surprise’. This is a declaration he made during the customary lunch time roundtable – a second such lunch at this location so far.
The afternoon seminar session became the longest ever. We had vowed to exit the ultimate session by six o’clock. However, by that time we were half way through the business of the afternoon. We had the option of formulating a new session for the next morning, or extending the current session. After a vote that was narrowly won, it was decided that the session be extended so that we can have a free tomorrow.
Exhausted
The folks left the seminar room at 7.40pm completely exhausted. In fact they did not even wait for a discussion on that evening’s program. I was left with the task of clearing the room of our materials, which included an overhead projector, a laptop computer, some stationery and the power extension socket outlet, which I had to return to the hotel management.
Slowly, the quorum gathered at the hotel lobby from 8.30pm. By nine o’clock the chartered hotel mini bus was parked outside the main hotel entrance, ready to transport the group. The mood in the bus was now jovial. All were happy to have cleared the business that had necessitated the retreat. The day-out was quite a welcome relief. All started to agree that the hotel food needed a break, even as the bus made a right turn into the busy Malindi road.
Five minutes into the journey, someone drew our attention to the right side of the road and showed us the flashing lights that were Karolina Inn. Momentarily I recalled how a team of planners that I associate with back in Narobi had taken a project in Mombasa, to do a digital map for Mtwapa. I had done their systems, software and databases and was therefore in the know of their now frequent coast trips. I had wondered why they had been devoid of details whenever they were late to come back to Nairobi. They were quite shy of revealing the going ons at Mtwapa. They would just say, “It was good. We did the business but needed two extra days to finalize.” It was during a spur of the moment outburst in their city centre office that they had mentioned ‘that Karolina place’, but changed topic when they discovered that a stranger was in the house, and started talking about the ‘that District Planning Officer’s place’ and how they met and discussed business.
Karolina
Here I was, facing Karolina with lights flashing and the music booming. I played a joke on the driver by telling him to stop briefly so that we can appreciate the place. The joke-loving driver stepped on the brakes and said, “Sawa bana, sasa utajua Mombasa raha!” He then released his braking and we continued with our journey. The same colleague who drew our attention to the place now went ahead and told his story, but devoid of any details. He said there was a time he was convinced to step into the place for a drink. He hardly stepped in before he was ushered in with a yellow-yellow who was almost in her birthday suit. When he was finally shown his seat, the y-y was already seated on him! When we pressed him for details, amid loud laughter, he just brushed off the topic and told our team of eleven, “It was an experience that am not repeating soon, but you people are welcome to find out for yourselves.”
The two members who were not from Nairobi responded almost immediately. The driver was the first one, “Niliwambieni Mombasa raha.”
The manager from our hotel, who accompanied us added, “That was quite normal. They have now gone a notch higher, lakini after the third drink, you shall not notice anything strange.”
We were still on that topic when the bus slowed down and then turned into a compound on the same left side of the road before coming to a stop.
“Shukeni. Tumefika,” declared our head of delegation.
“What, here! Already!!,” was the reaction of many. The drive had not been long. In fact we were only about fifteen minutes away from our usual abode. We had expected a long drive. Nonetheless, hunger was setting in and so the disembark was a good relief.
Big
At the entrance of the joint, now filled with fairly loud music, we met a group of about five. The seemed like the hotel security. Our host, the hotel manager, went in and had a brief discussion with the team. After his discussions, he came back out and told us, “Tuko sawa, tuingieni.”
One of the security personnel asked the men to pass through his frisking hands. Just ahead, the ladies were asked to go straight in where a female security personnel, in full uniform was waiting for them. This particular lady was big! She looked like the no nonsense type. One who would easily rough you up with the slightest or no provocation. I did not envy the colleagues going through her security check. Since we did not have any weapons, our checking in and entry was smooth. We even managed to get in without paying the mandatory 100/= per head, thanks to cooperation between hotels as ensured by our host.
Loud
When we moved in, the music got louder and quite inviting to dance. The dance floor, a depressed part, just after the main entrance was still empty, though the flashing lights were doing their thing on the emptiness. Scattered around the establishment were a few revelers – countable – most having a drink, few having a meal, one or two just walking about or idling aimlessly. There was a fountain that was combined with a swimming pool construct, on the middle part of the sitting arrangement. We found ourselves at the extreme end of the pool, just next to the perimeter wall. Our table had been booked and therefore set in advance of our arrival.
As we settled on the table, we wondered why there was so much hype about this place, yet it was just an ordinary place? The host just told us, “It is just a good place to eat and drink. They usually have some shows later on.”
Reflections
The next night when we went to sober up with a few drinks on the next compound to our hotel, we tried to reflect on the night before. This Sunday night sobering meeting was just for the three members of my committee and two other invited colleagues.
“Did yesterday really happen or am I dreaming?,” the lady in the group asked.
“That was reality, you are not dreaming gal,” we confirmed to her, almost in unison.
I was also in need of assurance that we were not dreaming, nor had stepped onto that insect! (But the insect caused only loss of way, not loss of reality!).
Two ladies hovered around our table, then sat just on the next table behind us. They ordered nothing. They just sat there engaged in small talk. They ensured that they kept glancing at our table of four men and one lady. Out of curiosity, the men folk on the table occasionally glanced in their direction. They were not bothered by the attention, nor were the folks on our table. On the next table, a white man and an African girl were in deep embrace, while sipping a common bottle of some drink. She had a small black tight sleeveless T-shirt that cleaved on her as if it was part of her skin. The front part was cut in V-shape – more like U shape. Exposing most of her frontness. She had a skimpy short pair of shorts. When she passed by our table, presumably to take a call, we were exposed to quite a view. She seemed not to mind.
On the table behind us, the two ladies kept their attention focused on us. We occasionally glanced behind, just in case they pounced – you never know – this coast place was turning out to be quite a challenge to handle the type of surprises that just emerge from the blues.
Reality
My mind could however not fully comprehend yesterday, and in the midst of football game being shown on the big screen elevated just in front of our seating location, I started to flashback….
After our dinner, which was quite sumptuous, we settled down to small talk and some drinks. As per tradition, it started raining, forcing those on the exposed parts of the establishment to move towards our tent. For a moment our sheltered sitting place was jammed by the steadily swelling crowd of revelers. The music had been turned two or three volume levels up. The ten minutes rain, with its characteristic heat, finally ended and the revelers resumed their scattered sitting places. We started seeing a main stage being swept, part of which was over the fountain pool. One side of the pool was just infront of our sitting position, though there was still an exact ‘pool side’ seating place, with the pool wall serving as a base of placing drinks. These seating places had however not been taken, and therefore we could have a view of the pool, stage and the activities.
Explosion
Alas! There was some distance sound that seemed like an explosion, followed by an abrupt stop to the music, then the lights were off.
“Ah, stima tena,” someone in the crowd shouted.
“Sounded like a transformer explosion,” someone else volunteered loudly.
After some moments of confusion, the lights came back and the music resumed.
At about eleven-thirty, we had the first official announcement, “Welcome to Saturday night show at Club Labamba. Tonight’s show shall be the bomb! We have lined up various activities including acrobatics, stage dance and the final show – the show! Feel comfortable and enjoy. Only one usual request…”
What would that be, I wondered.
“Please do not take any photos!”
The acrobats stepped onto the stage and showed their talents. They made various formations as they danced to fast paced benga beats. With every awe there was applause from the now jammed establishment. I saw them perch one of their members some three human beings up! The men-only troop danced their way out of stage even as the gathering asked for more. There was also a traditional dance by some girls. Thereafter, we saw a ballet-like performance between a gentleman and a lady, as they danced ‘lady’ by Kenny Rogers. But Kenya Power, being no respecter to even such a performance, ensured that the power went off for a few seconds. This forced the performance, that was about two minutes done, to be repeated from scratch. This repeat spoilt some surprises, but the elegance and dress, especially of ‘lady’ was something to be watched over and over again.
“Finally, ladies and gentlemen, the show!,” the announcer said.
And to keep all reminded, “And remember not to take any photographs, please!”
Sleep
I was jolted back to reality when our madam said that it was mid-night and she was not going to deprive herself of sleep anymore. I was voted to escort her to the hotel compound, which was just next door. I took the break and escorted her upto the hotel reception, a five minute walk.
I came back and found the two ladies behind our table still there. One was dressed in a short tight flowered dress and long black boots. The other was in a T-shirt and tight blue jeans. They kept their focus on our table, now with four men, even as we pretended to ignore them.
I took out my camera and took a photo of the three gents – just to have something to remind them of their escapades some day when we are back to the city.
“Wewe! Umesahau kwamba ulipewa warning usipige pige hizi picha zako!,” was the reaction I got from the guys.
“That was jana! And that final show, was it a reality?”
“I thought you see better with specs! And you had them!!”
Flash
The camera flash brought a flash of memory….
The final show started with four ladies dancing to some music as they moved towards the embankment of the pool, just in front of us. When they finally settled to their dance, I noticed that they had a loose blouse, the loosed ends tied into a note in the front. They had a wrap, whose ends were equally tied onto a note on their right waist. The wrap was too short. With their dark complexion, I needed to adjust my specs to confirm if there was anything beneath the wrap or this was it! As I started to comprehend, four gents, with swimming shorts and no tops joined the ladies from the opposite end. They did their dance, before finally doing a ‘bend over’ number. This song is supposed to imitate intimate action – and the four couples ‘did not disappoint’ in demonstrating ‘action’. Did I see some lady with legs raised, exposing her very small undergarment! Or there was none!! This part still confuses me.
At mid-night, after the show, the music was open to all. The dance floor was filled to capacity. The music was hot and varied. The DJ surely ‘rogad’ us, with his mix from all parts of Kenya and beyond. Our faint-hearted-four left soon after the final show. The die-hard-five remained to teach the Coasterians a few dance moves, especially the Western Kenya dance that requires an oiled shoulder, flexible waist and loose feet. And the dancehall had quite some ‘vituko’. From jungus that can’t dance – unless you call random motion of hands, legs and body in no particular pattern as dance. To ladies who were bumping us on the dance floor – was this a signal or what!
Interrupted
“Hebu turudi kwetu tukalale,” one of us declared, interrupting my busy mind. It was now 1am.
As we left the establishment, one of my colleagues confessed, “You know, when I went to the washroom, just a few moments ago, I found one of the two ladies on the washroom corridors. She approached me and asked whether she could come with me to my place.”
“Eh, wacha, urongo!”
“True, she said that she charges 2k for all services!”
“And….”
“And that is why we are getting out of here - fast!”
Back to business
One week later, we are presenting the draft report to the committee. We can not help but have the last laugh as we reminiscent what happened after the events of the Saturday night show. First, as we getting back into the bus ready to travel back to the hotel around 3am, when one of us asks to be shown the washroom. He is shown the tyre of the mini-bus… and that is the tyre that he washes! But precedence has already been set by someone else in the same bus!!
Secondly, in the bus, we all agree that the constitution recognizes Kiswahili as an official language. It is for this reason that we now decide to translate our policies, late in the hours of the night, into Kiswahili – just to obey the constitution. The group comes up with the following translations:
Liquidity policy – Sera ya maji
Savings policy – Sera ya uwekaji
Investment policy – Sera ya mali yetu
Dividend and Capitalization policy – Sera ya ugawaji and herufi kubwa
HR policy – Sera ya watu and nguvu zao
ICT policy – Sera ya tarakilishi
Procurement policy – Sera ya biashara
“How about ‘Loan policy’,” I asked aloud.
“Si unajua tu, kuwa lonely. Kwa hivyo, hiyo ni ‘Sera ya upweke’”
But wait till you hear the sentences that the 'policymakers' formulated from such innocent words like 'fanya' and its conjugations.
WWB, Nairobi, August 15, 2011
Running
Running
Monday, August 15, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The beach run – part 2
The beach run – part 2
“Shemeji, ivula yanipiga sana”
“Na lowa sana khu ngulo”
That is what I heard from one of my strange colleagues struggling to shelter under a small umbrella. He was talking on phone, even as five or six of us tried to outmaneuver each other to seek shelter from the cold and heavy rain drops. He was delivered the status report on the going-ons at the bus stop.
To get to into this struggle, my two colleagues and I had left our residence and took a matatu from the Rock to Nakumatt Nyali. We arrived at the supermarket about half past eight, only to be told that they had already closed. This forced us to travel on the next matatu to ‘Lights’, a stage that would lead us to Nakumatt Cinemax. Our very helpful matatu conductor had informed that the next supermarket was quite near.
“Hapo mbele tu. Ni karibu sana,” he had declared as we alighted at Lights. We therefore saw no need to get into another matatu.
When a ‘very near’ walk turned into thirty minutes on the road, we started suspecting that we had stepped on that insect. The one that if you stepped on, then you would loose your way forever. The street were however still relatively busy with people. This encouraged us on. The spirit of adventure also kept us going, to a place that we did not know. The only reason why we did not ask for direction was the fear of asking a jinni such a question. If we made the mistake of doing this, then we would be lured into the ocean for our final swim.
Alas! We saw the big expanse that is the supermarket block, just to the right of the road. Our entry to the compound was marked by some showers. Do not wish for rains at the coast, because when it does rain, then the earth just opens an oven of hot humid air that chokes the nostrils. In the supermarket the airconditioning kept us comfortable, even as the heavy rain could be heard drumming the top of the roof.
Rains
We left the supermarket while it still rained. After a brief shelter outside the block, we decided to run in the rain to the main road to await a matatu. Momentarily the rain had subsided and our wet clothes dried up. If anything, I was already sweating from the heated humid air. A ten minute drive in the matatu got us back to the Lights stage. We were forced to disembark even as it started raining heavily once more. We crossed the busy highway to get to the other side of the road. This would enable us catch another matatu going towards Bamburi. It kept raining even as we crossed the road and run for shelter. The shelter that I could afford was the torn umbrella that was housing six other adults. The rain kept pounding my back while the drip from atop the umbrella fell on my face. To reward our stay, the trader whose umbrella we had invaded informed us that, “Ambrela mtalipa kila mtu shilingi tano.” I thought of telling him the provisions on the 'bill of rights' of our new constitution, that guaranteed shelter to all Kenyans, but kept this thought to myself as I searched my pocket for 5/=. However, the lady must have been feeling sufficiently philanthropic, since she failed to collect when we departed as the rains subsided.
By the time the three of us got a matatu back to the Rock, our once soaked clothes had already dried up. When we narrated our ordeal to our colleagues, they just looked at us and wondered, “What rain? You people are as dry as a Rock!”
Our case was not made any easier by the lack of rains on this part of the city.
I found myself going to bed past mid-night. I had hardly slept the previous night due to the bus mishap, yet I was repeating another late night. For consolation, this seemed like the first time I felt a heated cold during a visit to this ocean-side town. With the air conditioner and fan both turned on, I covered myself and drifted to sleep.
The route
Even as I slept, I was filled with a sense of fulfillment. That is because in the evening during a thirty-minute break amid the seminar sessions, I had moved onto the white sandy beach, bordering the hotel establishment, and walked along the shores. The sand was warm and soft. The beach had lots of revelers. A group of about twenty young children, I guess primary school level, were swimming on the edges of the giant natural pool as a big group. From afar they looked like a collection of leaves floating on the seashore. Walking near my standing position was a foreign lady, I would guess above forty, stepping onto the edges of the water. She had a thin strip of something that looked like cloth on her waist and another on the chest. Am just being polite by saying this. She had surely put dressing to shame. Towing behind her were a couple, probably her children or some relation, in similar dressing. Shock would have registered on me, but I realized in good time that I was going to get used to seeing this type of dressing.
From where I was standing, I could approximate a one hundred meter distance on both directions of the shore. My idea was to organize the run as a circuit between these two extreme measures. The circuit would therefore be a 400m distance. I did not plan for a sprint. I wanted a jogging route or circuit. Something that we could do as a team, without being too tired to enjoy. How to setup the relay points was however proving to be a challenge. I could make a relay at 100m intervals – but this would seemingly be such a short distance that the members would easily sprint instead of the comfortable jog that I had in mind. However, a longer distance would prove a challenge as team members got tired or bored. The cheering and monitoring that I had in mind would not work if the route was too long. I also had to factor in the humidity and heavy air in my planning. The sea breeze at this time was however quite refreshing and was neutralizing the humidity.
I marked my current point with reference to a coconut tree on the hotel fence, and walked one hundred meters to the left of the hotel. The signboard on the shore read “Sarova Whitesands”. I know the feeling of 100m. This is because distance finally inculcates in your system when you become a seasoned runner. Generally, these were one hundred steps. As I stopped at the hundred-meter point, I could see the coconut tree swaying about. It did not look very far nor was the walk a strain. My mind was already made on the relay points. I now had to figure out the team compositions. I would either do the battle of the sexes or the battle of the committees.
Shoes
I was doing a loud piki-piki-ponki, father-had-a-donki, to choose amongst the two battles when I was interrupted.
“You can easily size up a man by the size of his shoes,” my colleague stated as a matter of fact.
We were generally grouped near the hotel perimeter as we enjoyed the last moments of the breeze as we headed back to the seminar room. This observation did not benefit all the menfolk in my team, since some had already left for the seminar.
“What is your authority?,” I asked.
“Many years of experience! And believe me, the truth does not lie.”
“Kweli kabisa,” the other lady colleague confirmed. “When I met my current huby, I knew in advance exactly what I was getting myself into.”
“And what were you getting yourself into?,” I enquired, wondering whether I was ready for this.
“If you sneeze, he’s out!”
“What the….”
While at the seminar room, I absentmindedly drafted the relay map on my notepad, even as the proceedings were going on. The seminar material was being projected on the big screen. Four relay points, one hundred meters apart in a circuit format. That is what I was now crafting on the A5 page. The battle shall however be…. I wondered once more. Meanwhile, I could not help looking at the feet of the men sitting around the three sides of a square-like seating arrangement. My mind wondered to the supermarket visit of the previous night. I had failed to get my size eleven sandals, at which point my colleagues had told me to “nunua size 5 and 6 kama hizi zetu, halafu uunganishe pamoja.”
The run is cancelled
When I woke up a few minutes to eight and later on went for breakfast, an amazing thing had happened. The once white long expanse of sand on the sea shore was non-existent. The ocean waters had risen to almost reach the hotel perimeter. There was hardly any shore to walk on. Were we supposed to run in the water!? How can water be existent one day and not existent the next day at the same place? This particular situation was a contradiction to the principle of contradiction, which states that nothing cannot be and not be at the same time! I momentarily removed my specs, which blurred my view of the ocean, forcing me to put them on again. I was surely not seeing double, nor was I being blinded by some substance consumed last night. The waters had surely engulfed my running circuit and my planned white sand relay was surely off.
On part 3 of the story, to be published next, I tell you of my final attempt to organize the run.
WWB, Nairobi, August 11, 2011
“Shemeji, ivula yanipiga sana”
“Na lowa sana khu ngulo”
That is what I heard from one of my strange colleagues struggling to shelter under a small umbrella. He was talking on phone, even as five or six of us tried to outmaneuver each other to seek shelter from the cold and heavy rain drops. He was delivered the status report on the going-ons at the bus stop.
To get to into this struggle, my two colleagues and I had left our residence and took a matatu from the Rock to Nakumatt Nyali. We arrived at the supermarket about half past eight, only to be told that they had already closed. This forced us to travel on the next matatu to ‘Lights’, a stage that would lead us to Nakumatt Cinemax. Our very helpful matatu conductor had informed that the next supermarket was quite near.
“Hapo mbele tu. Ni karibu sana,” he had declared as we alighted at Lights. We therefore saw no need to get into another matatu.
When a ‘very near’ walk turned into thirty minutes on the road, we started suspecting that we had stepped on that insect. The one that if you stepped on, then you would loose your way forever. The street were however still relatively busy with people. This encouraged us on. The spirit of adventure also kept us going, to a place that we did not know. The only reason why we did not ask for direction was the fear of asking a jinni such a question. If we made the mistake of doing this, then we would be lured into the ocean for our final swim.
Alas! We saw the big expanse that is the supermarket block, just to the right of the road. Our entry to the compound was marked by some showers. Do not wish for rains at the coast, because when it does rain, then the earth just opens an oven of hot humid air that chokes the nostrils. In the supermarket the airconditioning kept us comfortable, even as the heavy rain could be heard drumming the top of the roof.
Rains
We left the supermarket while it still rained. After a brief shelter outside the block, we decided to run in the rain to the main road to await a matatu. Momentarily the rain had subsided and our wet clothes dried up. If anything, I was already sweating from the heated humid air. A ten minute drive in the matatu got us back to the Lights stage. We were forced to disembark even as it started raining heavily once more. We crossed the busy highway to get to the other side of the road. This would enable us catch another matatu going towards Bamburi. It kept raining even as we crossed the road and run for shelter. The shelter that I could afford was the torn umbrella that was housing six other adults. The rain kept pounding my back while the drip from atop the umbrella fell on my face. To reward our stay, the trader whose umbrella we had invaded informed us that, “Ambrela mtalipa kila mtu shilingi tano.” I thought of telling him the provisions on the 'bill of rights' of our new constitution, that guaranteed shelter to all Kenyans, but kept this thought to myself as I searched my pocket for 5/=. However, the lady must have been feeling sufficiently philanthropic, since she failed to collect when we departed as the rains subsided.
By the time the three of us got a matatu back to the Rock, our once soaked clothes had already dried up. When we narrated our ordeal to our colleagues, they just looked at us and wondered, “What rain? You people are as dry as a Rock!”
Our case was not made any easier by the lack of rains on this part of the city.
I found myself going to bed past mid-night. I had hardly slept the previous night due to the bus mishap, yet I was repeating another late night. For consolation, this seemed like the first time I felt a heated cold during a visit to this ocean-side town. With the air conditioner and fan both turned on, I covered myself and drifted to sleep.
The route
Even as I slept, I was filled with a sense of fulfillment. That is because in the evening during a thirty-minute break amid the seminar sessions, I had moved onto the white sandy beach, bordering the hotel establishment, and walked along the shores. The sand was warm and soft. The beach had lots of revelers. A group of about twenty young children, I guess primary school level, were swimming on the edges of the giant natural pool as a big group. From afar they looked like a collection of leaves floating on the seashore. Walking near my standing position was a foreign lady, I would guess above forty, stepping onto the edges of the water. She had a thin strip of something that looked like cloth on her waist and another on the chest. Am just being polite by saying this. She had surely put dressing to shame. Towing behind her were a couple, probably her children or some relation, in similar dressing. Shock would have registered on me, but I realized in good time that I was going to get used to seeing this type of dressing.
From where I was standing, I could approximate a one hundred meter distance on both directions of the shore. My idea was to organize the run as a circuit between these two extreme measures. The circuit would therefore be a 400m distance. I did not plan for a sprint. I wanted a jogging route or circuit. Something that we could do as a team, without being too tired to enjoy. How to setup the relay points was however proving to be a challenge. I could make a relay at 100m intervals – but this would seemingly be such a short distance that the members would easily sprint instead of the comfortable jog that I had in mind. However, a longer distance would prove a challenge as team members got tired or bored. The cheering and monitoring that I had in mind would not work if the route was too long. I also had to factor in the humidity and heavy air in my planning. The sea breeze at this time was however quite refreshing and was neutralizing the humidity.
I marked my current point with reference to a coconut tree on the hotel fence, and walked one hundred meters to the left of the hotel. The signboard on the shore read “Sarova Whitesands”. I know the feeling of 100m. This is because distance finally inculcates in your system when you become a seasoned runner. Generally, these were one hundred steps. As I stopped at the hundred-meter point, I could see the coconut tree swaying about. It did not look very far nor was the walk a strain. My mind was already made on the relay points. I now had to figure out the team compositions. I would either do the battle of the sexes or the battle of the committees.
Shoes
I was doing a loud piki-piki-ponki, father-had-a-donki, to choose amongst the two battles when I was interrupted.
“You can easily size up a man by the size of his shoes,” my colleague stated as a matter of fact.
We were generally grouped near the hotel perimeter as we enjoyed the last moments of the breeze as we headed back to the seminar room. This observation did not benefit all the menfolk in my team, since some had already left for the seminar.
“What is your authority?,” I asked.
“Many years of experience! And believe me, the truth does not lie.”
“Kweli kabisa,” the other lady colleague confirmed. “When I met my current huby, I knew in advance exactly what I was getting myself into.”
“And what were you getting yourself into?,” I enquired, wondering whether I was ready for this.
“If you sneeze, he’s out!”
“What the….”
While at the seminar room, I absentmindedly drafted the relay map on my notepad, even as the proceedings were going on. The seminar material was being projected on the big screen. Four relay points, one hundred meters apart in a circuit format. That is what I was now crafting on the A5 page. The battle shall however be…. I wondered once more. Meanwhile, I could not help looking at the feet of the men sitting around the three sides of a square-like seating arrangement. My mind wondered to the supermarket visit of the previous night. I had failed to get my size eleven sandals, at which point my colleagues had told me to “nunua size 5 and 6 kama hizi zetu, halafu uunganishe pamoja.”
The run is cancelled
When I woke up a few minutes to eight and later on went for breakfast, an amazing thing had happened. The once white long expanse of sand on the sea shore was non-existent. The ocean waters had risen to almost reach the hotel perimeter. There was hardly any shore to walk on. Were we supposed to run in the water!? How can water be existent one day and not existent the next day at the same place? This particular situation was a contradiction to the principle of contradiction, which states that nothing cannot be and not be at the same time! I momentarily removed my specs, which blurred my view of the ocean, forcing me to put them on again. I was surely not seeing double, nor was I being blinded by some substance consumed last night. The waters had surely engulfed my running circuit and my planned white sand relay was surely off.
On part 3 of the story, to be published next, I tell you of my final attempt to organize the run.
WWB, Nairobi, August 11, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The beach run - part 1
The beach run - part 1
Aeroadplane
“This is like an aeroplane,” commented the lady sitting next to me. This was about five minutes after takeoff.
Early in the evening, I had left my workplace and got a taxi to town. The taxi ride was the employer’s way of getting me home after working me past work hours. How my ‘home’ turned out to be town on this particular Thursday, was just pure calculations on my part. My usual residence is a stone throw away from the workplace. But this is a story for next time.
At the bus station, various buses parked, filled-up and left, while we awaited our ten o’clock boarding time.
“Wanaosafiri Mombasa kwa Modern Coast, basi aina ya Oxygen, tafadhali nendeni kwenye basi KBD…,” the announcer started, and searched her words for the reminder of the registration plate.
Our team of eight had managed to get fairly scattered seats. I had managed a number 11. I remember calling the booking office six hours earlier, to reconfirm that this number was an aisle side seat, which they did. I do not fancy the window side during a night travel due to the cold.
There was no security check even as we boarded. All just filed in without any hassle. The only requirement was that each had to display their tickets for confirmation by the attendant standing outside the bus door. I was just about to ask the lady apparently sitting on no. 11 to move to the window side, when I noted that number 11 was actually a window side seat, about four rows behind the driver.
“What was the use of that confirmatory phone call? Cheating Kenyans!,” that is what my mind said. My mouth however said, “Excuse me, please let me through to my number eleven seat.” I settled on my seat, adjusted the headrest by lowering it backwards, then fastened the seat belt.
Videography
Before our departure, a video cameraman had gotten into the bus and without warning or notice, went ahead and took video coverage of the whole bus. As he moved around, he momentarily focused the lens on each passenger. Occasionally, he asked particular passengers to remove their specs and head gear and look straight up. This was quite strange. However, since no one seemed to worry or question the going ons, I followed suit.
At exactly 10.30pm, the hydraulic doors closed and the bus left the station. I hardly noticed this departure until the ‘aeroplane’ comment was made.
“I did not even notice that we are in motion,” I responded, by way of introduction to the person I was sitting next to. I was still bitter in the mouth due to my sitting position, but nothing beats a good conversation.
“What takes you down coast?,” I found myself asking, for no good reason, just to get acquainted.
“I live there. I was in this forsaken city for a graduation ceremony”
“You do not like the city much, do you?, ” I wondered aloud.
“With traffic jams that are a national disaster! Spare me!!”
So we kept the chit chat, even as the air-, sorry bus-hostess served bottled water, packets of juice and some nuts.
“Next they shall be offering 3D goggles for the movie,” I quipped to my partner. This got her off guard, forcing her to laugh this off, loudly, for a moment. My colleagues, sitting on the opposite aisle glanced at our direction with some envy and moved their gaze straight on after a moment.
“I have to be on duty early morning. I therefore have to obey the sleep that is catching up with me. The graduation ceremony took a toll on me.”
Comfort
When we hit Mombasa road, the coach settled onto a comfortable but relatively slow pace. There was hardly any discernible motion. It was as if we were at a standstill but the movement was real. This was super comfortable. The lights has been switched off, but the movie show must have been cancelled! Large red LCD display just above the driver position, visible to all, indicated, “Date: 7-28” then “Time: 10.50” and then “Temp/Humid 25 C, 65%”. The display alternated every fifteen or so seconds. The air-conditioner was real. At some point I actually directed a jet of cold air onto myself from an overhead knob. But eventually I settled onto the trip and started enjoying the ride. I started planning for my inaugural run at the coast – a beach run competition by the team of ten. Something like a relay between the dudes and the dudettes. How to position runners at the relay points still needed a calculation. Nonetheless, this scheme would only work if we were capable of making some time, especially in the morning or late evening. However, there is no harm in planning – the worst that can happen can be a cancellation.
“Lord have mercy!”
“Shindwe!!”
“Oh my God!”
“Reswa!”
I heard all such shouts almost simultaneously. This was hardly thirty minutes into the journey. As I was digesting the situation, I remembered the sound of a loud burst, followed by wobbling motion of the bus as it moved left and right for a moment. One minute later, the bus was at a standstill on the opposite side of the road, just at the edge of the road shoulder.
“That was a tyre burst,” someone said, even as passengers craned their necks to glimpse the windshield or impossibly look through the dark painted windows.
The lights were turned on and the driver stepped out. Our hostess disembarked and folded her seat to give passage to travelers who were now disembarking in total confusion, and some in panic.
When it sank in, we realized that we had had a front tyre burst on the driver’s side. But because misfortunes must always come about in good measure, it was not a coincidence that we did not have a functional spare tyre nor the tools to change the tyre. I also disembarked, finally, and passed by the red LCD that now displayed 11.00. I noticed that we were not far from the city. In fact, the lights on the horizon dotted the outline of Nairobi. The billowing smoke in the nearby industrial establishments signaled that we were actually at Athi River. The night was chilly and hence I got back to the bus after my short stint on the dark road that was seeing vehicles, especially buses, zooming through at lightning speeds.
Silence
There was no official word from anybody on our mishap nor the course of action. Everything happening was an interpretation of what ‘some passenger heard from the driver’. At some point, we heard that the bus was completely incapacitated and that there was no chance of the journey continuing. Some passenger came back to the bus, picked his bags and said that those who needed to travel to the coast urgently were supposed to board any other bus of the same brand heading to the coast. With fear of the unknown, I was one of the people who found themselves in a non-comparable bus, looking for any available seat. My colleague, who was ahead, had already managed a seat. I tried the empty seat immediately behind, but was told that it was broken, unless I was willing to travel ‘with a straight back’ to the coast. I had to disembark and wait for our unknown eventuality.
Later on, a mechanic came from Nairobi and changed the tyre. The replacement was not any good and could not sustain a long journey. We were informed of the big issue, that there was a mechanical fault that was causing the tyre to be eaten into by a metallic part of the wheel compartment. With this fault, any tyre changed would eventually wear out and burst, when the tube surface is eaten into. For our own safety, the bus was driven slowly to the nearby Athi River Police road block. We now had only about half the passengers, after the others got into other Mombasa-bound buses. Even at the road block, more passengers decided to jump bus and got going.
“We are staying here till morning, since there are only two buses of this kind,” one passenger volunteered loudly, in the midst of the chit chat in the bus. There was laughter, anger, disgust and some few 'Shindwe's in reaction to the statement. The number of buses was a sure statistic, but the waiting period was based on lack of information from anybody. We were just there – in the cold bus, with the AC now turned off, in the dark… and in a restless panic. The time was now 12 midnight. I just sat there. Resigning to fate I closed my eyes even as I said, “Good morning my team! It is a new day. Let me catch some sleep.”
Water bottle
Something hit me and I stirred.
“Sorry, it was not meant for you!,” I heard from deep sleep. I struggled with wakefulness to notice a half empty bottle of water lying next to my seat. That is what had hit me, that was the subject of the apology. I noticed that the lights in the bus had been turned on, but turned down.
“Wewe sleepyhead. Bure kabisa! Hebu amka! We are about to start our journey,” the same lady who had dropped the water bottle told her girl-friend. Their seat was just a row behind, on the opposite side. I had to rub my eyes off sleep, since I momentarily saw her plant a kiss on ‘sleepy’s lips and tell her, “Sweety, kaa vizuri. Our trip to the coast is back on track.”
I become more sober when they clasped each other in an embrace that I would interpret as romantic and soothed each other to sleep. To keep me guessing, they covered themselves with a sheet and made sure that there was good exposure around sleepy’s dropping trousers. As the bus turned back to face the direction of Mombasa, the lights were finally turned off and we started our journey to the coast. The time was 2.30am.
When we broke a record of arriving at Mombasa at 10.30am, four hours later, I got to understand what happened at the Athi River Police road block. The narration occurred as we got into our chartered van heading to our hotel rooms. We heard that a mechanic came from Nairobi and fixed the problem and realigning the front wheels. The adjustment removed the metallic protrusion that was eating onto the front right tyre. The problem of the tyre had been with the bus since its trip from Mombasa to Nairobi before our boarding. The very wise mechanic back at Nairobi had given the bus a clean bill, stating that the problem was ‘not too serious’ and could be resolved at Mombasa after this particular journey. One of the phone calls that the hostess made early in the morning was a status report to ‘someone’ on the other end of the line. “You mean atapoteza kazi?,” was one of her statements over the phone.
With four lost hours, my planned beach run was not having good prospects on a now tighter programme.
On part 2 of the story, to be published next, we find out how my run at the coast went.
WWB, Nairobi, August 10, 2011
Aeroadplane
“This is like an aeroplane,” commented the lady sitting next to me. This was about five minutes after takeoff.
Early in the evening, I had left my workplace and got a taxi to town. The taxi ride was the employer’s way of getting me home after working me past work hours. How my ‘home’ turned out to be town on this particular Thursday, was just pure calculations on my part. My usual residence is a stone throw away from the workplace. But this is a story for next time.
At the bus station, various buses parked, filled-up and left, while we awaited our ten o’clock boarding time.
“Wanaosafiri Mombasa kwa Modern Coast, basi aina ya Oxygen, tafadhali nendeni kwenye basi KBD…,” the announcer started, and searched her words for the reminder of the registration plate.
Our team of eight had managed to get fairly scattered seats. I had managed a number 11. I remember calling the booking office six hours earlier, to reconfirm that this number was an aisle side seat, which they did. I do not fancy the window side during a night travel due to the cold.
There was no security check even as we boarded. All just filed in without any hassle. The only requirement was that each had to display their tickets for confirmation by the attendant standing outside the bus door. I was just about to ask the lady apparently sitting on no. 11 to move to the window side, when I noted that number 11 was actually a window side seat, about four rows behind the driver.
“What was the use of that confirmatory phone call? Cheating Kenyans!,” that is what my mind said. My mouth however said, “Excuse me, please let me through to my number eleven seat.” I settled on my seat, adjusted the headrest by lowering it backwards, then fastened the seat belt.
Videography
Before our departure, a video cameraman had gotten into the bus and without warning or notice, went ahead and took video coverage of the whole bus. As he moved around, he momentarily focused the lens on each passenger. Occasionally, he asked particular passengers to remove their specs and head gear and look straight up. This was quite strange. However, since no one seemed to worry or question the going ons, I followed suit.
At exactly 10.30pm, the hydraulic doors closed and the bus left the station. I hardly noticed this departure until the ‘aeroplane’ comment was made.
“I did not even notice that we are in motion,” I responded, by way of introduction to the person I was sitting next to. I was still bitter in the mouth due to my sitting position, but nothing beats a good conversation.
“What takes you down coast?,” I found myself asking, for no good reason, just to get acquainted.
“I live there. I was in this forsaken city for a graduation ceremony”
“You do not like the city much, do you?, ” I wondered aloud.
“With traffic jams that are a national disaster! Spare me!!”
So we kept the chit chat, even as the air-, sorry bus-hostess served bottled water, packets of juice and some nuts.
“Next they shall be offering 3D goggles for the movie,” I quipped to my partner. This got her off guard, forcing her to laugh this off, loudly, for a moment. My colleagues, sitting on the opposite aisle glanced at our direction with some envy and moved their gaze straight on after a moment.
“I have to be on duty early morning. I therefore have to obey the sleep that is catching up with me. The graduation ceremony took a toll on me.”
Comfort
When we hit Mombasa road, the coach settled onto a comfortable but relatively slow pace. There was hardly any discernible motion. It was as if we were at a standstill but the movement was real. This was super comfortable. The lights has been switched off, but the movie show must have been cancelled! Large red LCD display just above the driver position, visible to all, indicated, “Date: 7-28” then “Time: 10.50” and then “Temp/Humid 25 C, 65%”. The display alternated every fifteen or so seconds. The air-conditioner was real. At some point I actually directed a jet of cold air onto myself from an overhead knob. But eventually I settled onto the trip and started enjoying the ride. I started planning for my inaugural run at the coast – a beach run competition by the team of ten. Something like a relay between the dudes and the dudettes. How to position runners at the relay points still needed a calculation. Nonetheless, this scheme would only work if we were capable of making some time, especially in the morning or late evening. However, there is no harm in planning – the worst that can happen can be a cancellation.
“Lord have mercy!”
“Shindwe!!”
“Oh my God!”
“Reswa!”
I heard all such shouts almost simultaneously. This was hardly thirty minutes into the journey. As I was digesting the situation, I remembered the sound of a loud burst, followed by wobbling motion of the bus as it moved left and right for a moment. One minute later, the bus was at a standstill on the opposite side of the road, just at the edge of the road shoulder.
“That was a tyre burst,” someone said, even as passengers craned their necks to glimpse the windshield or impossibly look through the dark painted windows.
The lights were turned on and the driver stepped out. Our hostess disembarked and folded her seat to give passage to travelers who were now disembarking in total confusion, and some in panic.
When it sank in, we realized that we had had a front tyre burst on the driver’s side. But because misfortunes must always come about in good measure, it was not a coincidence that we did not have a functional spare tyre nor the tools to change the tyre. I also disembarked, finally, and passed by the red LCD that now displayed 11.00. I noticed that we were not far from the city. In fact, the lights on the horizon dotted the outline of Nairobi. The billowing smoke in the nearby industrial establishments signaled that we were actually at Athi River. The night was chilly and hence I got back to the bus after my short stint on the dark road that was seeing vehicles, especially buses, zooming through at lightning speeds.
Silence
There was no official word from anybody on our mishap nor the course of action. Everything happening was an interpretation of what ‘some passenger heard from the driver’. At some point, we heard that the bus was completely incapacitated and that there was no chance of the journey continuing. Some passenger came back to the bus, picked his bags and said that those who needed to travel to the coast urgently were supposed to board any other bus of the same brand heading to the coast. With fear of the unknown, I was one of the people who found themselves in a non-comparable bus, looking for any available seat. My colleague, who was ahead, had already managed a seat. I tried the empty seat immediately behind, but was told that it was broken, unless I was willing to travel ‘with a straight back’ to the coast. I had to disembark and wait for our unknown eventuality.
Later on, a mechanic came from Nairobi and changed the tyre. The replacement was not any good and could not sustain a long journey. We were informed of the big issue, that there was a mechanical fault that was causing the tyre to be eaten into by a metallic part of the wheel compartment. With this fault, any tyre changed would eventually wear out and burst, when the tube surface is eaten into. For our own safety, the bus was driven slowly to the nearby Athi River Police road block. We now had only about half the passengers, after the others got into other Mombasa-bound buses. Even at the road block, more passengers decided to jump bus and got going.
“We are staying here till morning, since there are only two buses of this kind,” one passenger volunteered loudly, in the midst of the chit chat in the bus. There was laughter, anger, disgust and some few 'Shindwe's in reaction to the statement. The number of buses was a sure statistic, but the waiting period was based on lack of information from anybody. We were just there – in the cold bus, with the AC now turned off, in the dark… and in a restless panic. The time was now 12 midnight. I just sat there. Resigning to fate I closed my eyes even as I said, “Good morning my team! It is a new day. Let me catch some sleep.”
Water bottle
Something hit me and I stirred.
“Sorry, it was not meant for you!,” I heard from deep sleep. I struggled with wakefulness to notice a half empty bottle of water lying next to my seat. That is what had hit me, that was the subject of the apology. I noticed that the lights in the bus had been turned on, but turned down.
“Wewe sleepyhead. Bure kabisa! Hebu amka! We are about to start our journey,” the same lady who had dropped the water bottle told her girl-friend. Their seat was just a row behind, on the opposite side. I had to rub my eyes off sleep, since I momentarily saw her plant a kiss on ‘sleepy’s lips and tell her, “Sweety, kaa vizuri. Our trip to the coast is back on track.”
I become more sober when they clasped each other in an embrace that I would interpret as romantic and soothed each other to sleep. To keep me guessing, they covered themselves with a sheet and made sure that there was good exposure around sleepy’s dropping trousers. As the bus turned back to face the direction of Mombasa, the lights were finally turned off and we started our journey to the coast. The time was 2.30am.
When we broke a record of arriving at Mombasa at 10.30am, four hours later, I got to understand what happened at the Athi River Police road block. The narration occurred as we got into our chartered van heading to our hotel rooms. We heard that a mechanic came from Nairobi and fixed the problem and realigning the front wheels. The adjustment removed the metallic protrusion that was eating onto the front right tyre. The problem of the tyre had been with the bus since its trip from Mombasa to Nairobi before our boarding. The very wise mechanic back at Nairobi had given the bus a clean bill, stating that the problem was ‘not too serious’ and could be resolved at Mombasa after this particular journey. One of the phone calls that the hostess made early in the morning was a status report to ‘someone’ on the other end of the line. “You mean atapoteza kazi?,” was one of her statements over the phone.
With four lost hours, my planned beach run was not having good prospects on a now tighter programme.
On part 2 of the story, to be published next, we find out how my run at the coast went.
WWB, Nairobi, August 10, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Running the wrong way – the Chancellor teaches marathoners a lesson
Running the wrong way – the Chancellor teaches marathoners a lesson
Rumours turned to reality when the Chancellor of the Republic of German visited the institution on Tuesday, July 12, 2011. But the visit was a challenge, even the seasoned runners like me.
The rumours:
Two weeks prior to July 12, rumours of the President visiting the institution (again) started. This however was very unlikely given that the previous visit was just late last year. That bit of rumour run around for less than two days, since the clincher came when one staff, inadvertently, informed our maintenance team to paint some walls at the main Admin block in readiness for the visit by Angela Merkel. For damage control, the management finally released an official communique to the effect that surely the Chancellor was visiting the campus.
Wrong runs start:
On Friday before the visit, we were given a preliminary schedule that indicated a 4pm visit, followed by a meeting with staff. That meant that staff had to be seated at the address venue by 4.00pm. They had to have vacated their offices by 3.55pm (or be locked in until five). We were all eagerly awaiting this once in a lifetime meeting, when a new message was sent 24-hours to the visit canceling the staff meeting. Nonetheless, staff had to clear out of the tour route by four, by remaining in their offices or breaking for the day.
Photo runs:
I had charged the camera battery the previous evening and by eight on the D-day, the camera had been assembled, checked, tested and counter-checked. The cancellation of the staff address was however weighing heavy on me. I started planning to be out of the compound by 4pm, though I did not have any other plans for the evening.
Engineering runs:
As a service provider, I found myself in the mix, when I was called over to the venue of the meeting to confirm that all installations were in order. I had to give directions to some staff to ensure that everything was functional. The sound checks and recording tests were verified and re-verified. The public address system was tested and retested, with each test resulting into reposition of the loud speakers. The red carpet was rolled, cleaned then re-cleaned.
Running with the flowers:
The young girl, hardly four, who was to present the flowers was coached by the mum, a colleague, on what it shall take. To her it was just an amazing experience. Her young self and small size could not comprehend what was going on. She run away with the flowers, when they were first given to her – and the bouquet was quite heavy that she almost dropped them.
“Hey girl, come to mummy”
She changed direction and moved toward mum, the flowers evidently heavy.
“Say, 'Welcome to Kenya', then give me the flowers”
“Welcome... thank you,” she struggles to say and gets a relief as the mother takes the flowers. She laughs shyly, covering her face then runs down the red carpet, totally impressed.
A few trials later and she is ready for the task. I am also confident that she shall manage. I give the mother a few tips, “Tell her to say 'Guten tag', and see how the visitor shall be impressed”
“Kutak... mummy, what did you say?”
Running motorcade:
When the three minister arrived, that of Public Health who is also the area MP, that of Agriculture and that of Livestock, we knew that the dignitary was not far. Their motorcade did not raise much attention, after all staff were still generally out of the vicinity of the event. I was in thick of things due to my Engineering pass. It is the Landrover of the Traffic Police boss that caused some excitement as it arrived at the Green House site. The driver must have ignored the 25kph sign and the 'bumps ahead', since the big vehicle was tossed so high by the two consecutive bumps that we thought it would overturn.
Run to carpet:
It was now 4.10pm and the air was full of anticipation. Any time now and the mystery of the visitor shall be unveiled. Two outrider motorcycles signaled the arrival of the VIP, who was in a dark blue Mercedes Benz, with four additional security men running besides it, two on either side. The vehicle of the guest was to stop just next to the red carpet, so that the visitor can disembark from the right of the car, straight to the carpet. The DG and the welcoming party had positioned themselves just at the start of the long red artificial turf. However, the limo driver had different ideas – he drove and turned into the carpet. This confused all the welcoming party, not knowing which limo door she would disembark from. The confusion won – she disembarked from the left. I was standing at the tent to the immediate right, just next to the sound mixer. Her disembark on the opposite site obstructed my photography – but it had been a day of wrong runs so far.
Public address:
“Wilkommen Madam Chancelor fur Deutsch Bundesrepublik in ILRI,” the DG started off. We had hoped that the speeches would be in English but we were on a different run. As he spoke, all were standing, with the five dignitaries at the makeshift podium near the Green house. The other dignitaries apart from the Chancellor and three Kenyan ministers, was the German Agricultural minister. During the silence there was a thick presence of security agents. About five had an earpiece. Nonetheless, those who heeded the warning of putting on their staff IDs visible at all times did not suffer any adverse security inconveniences. Anyone without an ID was physically blocked from moving anywhere in the vicinity of the Green House.
“Danke Doktor Carlos Sere fur Seine gut Wilkommen. ILRI ist wunderbar” Madam Merkel responded when her time to address the gathered commenced. She went on to deliver her address, while an English translation was relayed through the public address, by a translator just next to her podium. Her remarks lasted about five minutes. Immediately thereafter, the guest and team toured the Green House then the Lab complex.
Running the wrong way:
After the tour, which was restricted to accredited passes only, there was to be the signing of the visitors book, then a press conference in front of the New block. Since I would not make it to the lab tour, I was eager to be part of the group steadily gathering at the New block in readiness for the signing ceremony. We had started taking some of the snacks marked 'Press only'. However, when the blue limo with the German flag zoomed past the block towards the rear entrance of the Lab. complex, I knew that something was about to happen. I took off, camera at hand, in the direction of the vehicle. Behind the lab, I found some members of the press and visitors waiting for Madam Merkel to leave the lab. Momentarily, she did and proceeded to sign the visitors book, which was in a new tent just at the parking lot. After the signing, she proceeded to the lawn next to the lab and answered a few questions from the press. She was just a meter away from me as we, the press, pressed forward to hear her address in Deutsch. A colleague journalist was still asking a question when she turned back and headed to her limo.
Final run:
The uniformed security personnel in her blue airforce like regalia opened the left door to enable the visitor get into the car. She then took the front seat, while another civilian lady moved swiftly from nowhere to block the back left door with her frame. There was a human shield around the limo that just stood there with no action. It was as if she had decided not to leave! After about two minutes of calm, at exactly 4.55pm, the outriders cycled off, followed by Angela's car, as the human shield run after the car and progressively jumped into their dark blue cars as the chase hastened. All other vehicles followed in tow.
Back to the New block, the few staff from the event gathered to munch on the bitings as they reflected on the busy day.
“Why were so many things in the program changed? This must have been bad for the visit,” I wondered aloud, to my colleagues.
“Nothing in the program was changed. The event just went on as planned. It is only that the wrong programme was released to the public, for security reasons,” I was told.
Those of us who like running, this 'as planned' program was good for practice. One more reason why running is good for you.
Wanjawa, W. B. - Nairobi, July 12, 2011
Rumours turned to reality when the Chancellor of the Republic of German visited the institution on Tuesday, July 12, 2011. But the visit was a challenge, even the seasoned runners like me.
The rumours:
Two weeks prior to July 12, rumours of the President visiting the institution (again) started. This however was very unlikely given that the previous visit was just late last year. That bit of rumour run around for less than two days, since the clincher came when one staff, inadvertently, informed our maintenance team to paint some walls at the main Admin block in readiness for the visit by Angela Merkel. For damage control, the management finally released an official communique to the effect that surely the Chancellor was visiting the campus.
Wrong runs start:
On Friday before the visit, we were given a preliminary schedule that indicated a 4pm visit, followed by a meeting with staff. That meant that staff had to be seated at the address venue by 4.00pm. They had to have vacated their offices by 3.55pm (or be locked in until five). We were all eagerly awaiting this once in a lifetime meeting, when a new message was sent 24-hours to the visit canceling the staff meeting. Nonetheless, staff had to clear out of the tour route by four, by remaining in their offices or breaking for the day.
Photo runs:
I had charged the camera battery the previous evening and by eight on the D-day, the camera had been assembled, checked, tested and counter-checked. The cancellation of the staff address was however weighing heavy on me. I started planning to be out of the compound by 4pm, though I did not have any other plans for the evening.
Engineering runs:
As a service provider, I found myself in the mix, when I was called over to the venue of the meeting to confirm that all installations were in order. I had to give directions to some staff to ensure that everything was functional. The sound checks and recording tests were verified and re-verified. The public address system was tested and retested, with each test resulting into reposition of the loud speakers. The red carpet was rolled, cleaned then re-cleaned.
Running with the flowers:
The young girl, hardly four, who was to present the flowers was coached by the mum, a colleague, on what it shall take. To her it was just an amazing experience. Her young self and small size could not comprehend what was going on. She run away with the flowers, when they were first given to her – and the bouquet was quite heavy that she almost dropped them.
“Hey girl, come to mummy”
She changed direction and moved toward mum, the flowers evidently heavy.
“Say, 'Welcome to Kenya', then give me the flowers”
“Welcome... thank you,” she struggles to say and gets a relief as the mother takes the flowers. She laughs shyly, covering her face then runs down the red carpet, totally impressed.
A few trials later and she is ready for the task. I am also confident that she shall manage. I give the mother a few tips, “Tell her to say 'Guten tag', and see how the visitor shall be impressed”
“Kutak... mummy, what did you say?”
Running motorcade:
When the three minister arrived, that of Public Health who is also the area MP, that of Agriculture and that of Livestock, we knew that the dignitary was not far. Their motorcade did not raise much attention, after all staff were still generally out of the vicinity of the event. I was in thick of things due to my Engineering pass. It is the Landrover of the Traffic Police boss that caused some excitement as it arrived at the Green House site. The driver must have ignored the 25kph sign and the 'bumps ahead', since the big vehicle was tossed so high by the two consecutive bumps that we thought it would overturn.
Run to carpet:
It was now 4.10pm and the air was full of anticipation. Any time now and the mystery of the visitor shall be unveiled. Two outrider motorcycles signaled the arrival of the VIP, who was in a dark blue Mercedes Benz, with four additional security men running besides it, two on either side. The vehicle of the guest was to stop just next to the red carpet, so that the visitor can disembark from the right of the car, straight to the carpet. The DG and the welcoming party had positioned themselves just at the start of the long red artificial turf. However, the limo driver had different ideas – he drove and turned into the carpet. This confused all the welcoming party, not knowing which limo door she would disembark from. The confusion won – she disembarked from the left. I was standing at the tent to the immediate right, just next to the sound mixer. Her disembark on the opposite site obstructed my photography – but it had been a day of wrong runs so far.
Public address:
“Wilkommen Madam Chancelor fur Deutsch Bundesrepublik in ILRI,” the DG started off. We had hoped that the speeches would be in English but we were on a different run. As he spoke, all were standing, with the five dignitaries at the makeshift podium near the Green house. The other dignitaries apart from the Chancellor and three Kenyan ministers, was the German Agricultural minister. During the silence there was a thick presence of security agents. About five had an earpiece. Nonetheless, those who heeded the warning of putting on their staff IDs visible at all times did not suffer any adverse security inconveniences. Anyone without an ID was physically blocked from moving anywhere in the vicinity of the Green House.
“Danke Doktor Carlos Sere fur Seine gut Wilkommen. ILRI ist wunderbar” Madam Merkel responded when her time to address the gathered commenced. She went on to deliver her address, while an English translation was relayed through the public address, by a translator just next to her podium. Her remarks lasted about five minutes. Immediately thereafter, the guest and team toured the Green House then the Lab complex.
Running the wrong way:
After the tour, which was restricted to accredited passes only, there was to be the signing of the visitors book, then a press conference in front of the New block. Since I would not make it to the lab tour, I was eager to be part of the group steadily gathering at the New block in readiness for the signing ceremony. We had started taking some of the snacks marked 'Press only'. However, when the blue limo with the German flag zoomed past the block towards the rear entrance of the Lab. complex, I knew that something was about to happen. I took off, camera at hand, in the direction of the vehicle. Behind the lab, I found some members of the press and visitors waiting for Madam Merkel to leave the lab. Momentarily, she did and proceeded to sign the visitors book, which was in a new tent just at the parking lot. After the signing, she proceeded to the lawn next to the lab and answered a few questions from the press. She was just a meter away from me as we, the press, pressed forward to hear her address in Deutsch. A colleague journalist was still asking a question when she turned back and headed to her limo.
Final run:
The uniformed security personnel in her blue airforce like regalia opened the left door to enable the visitor get into the car. She then took the front seat, while another civilian lady moved swiftly from nowhere to block the back left door with her frame. There was a human shield around the limo that just stood there with no action. It was as if she had decided not to leave! After about two minutes of calm, at exactly 4.55pm, the outriders cycled off, followed by Angela's car, as the human shield run after the car and progressively jumped into their dark blue cars as the chase hastened. All other vehicles followed in tow.
Back to the New block, the few staff from the event gathered to munch on the bitings as they reflected on the busy day.
“Why were so many things in the program changed? This must have been bad for the visit,” I wondered aloud, to my colleagues.
“Nothing in the program was changed. The event just went on as planned. It is only that the wrong programme was released to the public, for security reasons,” I was told.
Those of us who like running, this 'as planned' program was good for practice. One more reason why running is good for you.
Wanjawa, W. B. - Nairobi, July 12, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sotokoto 2011 – held in May but…
Sotokoto 2011 – held in May but…
When I left the house at 8.15am for the morning run, I deliberately put on the Sotokoto marathon T-shirt issued last year. This was to enable me compensate for the third annual edition of the run that I had surely missed. The inaugural run was held on May 15, 2009. The 2010 run was held on May 23.
Bad memories
I had heard little about the Sotokoto Safari marathon since the year began, apart from it being held in May as per tradition. I was not surprised that Sotokoto had not publicised the run. It has been their bad tradition to do everything wrong in organizing this marathon. Take last year for example. They had launched the run about six-weeks to the event and indicated registration centres as AK offices, Equity bank branches, Uhuru gardens secretariat and KWS offices. None of these listed centres were aware of this run weeks after the inauguration. Even the KWS headquarters offices seem to be lacking in details of the registration process. By one week to the run day, only KWS offices were accepting registration and payments, though they did not have the running kits. The kits were availed a day to the run. By run day, registrations were still ongoing. We did not get any medals or certificates. Enquiries one year later have not yielded any information on the fate of the participants certificates. That is what I mean by badly organized.
Revenge
My Sunday run was to be a slap on the face of the organizers. I was confident that the Safari marathon was being held on this Sunday, the 29th day of May. Their lack of proper publicity had prevented me from registering. Nonetheless, there was a good level of satisfaction, as I started my run with the Sotokoto kit. Revenge felt good. I would run my half-marathon at the comfort of the routes that I knew, even as the real Sotokoto took place on Langata road.
I had forgotten to carry my stopwatch from the workplace, having used it last during the Friday mid-day run. Nonetheless, I still had to determine my run time. The wall clock read 8.15am as I left the residential compound for the walk to the main road to start the run about a minute later. I started the run slowly to navigate the busy Uthuri main street, now crowding with church going people and noisy matatus, which have specialized in stopping anywhere in the middle of the road. These same brand have no respect for pedestrians or runners.
No runners
I took the flyover to Ndumbo at a slow pace and headed for the Vet loop at an increased pace. By the time I was through with the loop back to Ndumbo, I had settled on a comfortable pace. I went downhill toward the river, then uphill to ‘tarmac’. The run on Lower Kabete road to Ngecha diversion was uneventful. For the first time during a weekend run, I failed to meet a single runner! I usually meet one or two on this stretch. The Ngecha road to Getathuru road, a stretch of about 10 minutes, was fairly downhill, on road section that is in dire need of repairs.
The Getathuru road towards Kitisuru estate is uphill all the way to the diversion to the river and upto ‘tarmac’. This ten-minutes section was a big stress. At the Kitisuru stage, I pass a group of bystanders. They observe my approach having muted their conversation to let me passby. I glance backwards just in time to see one of them pointing in my direction while saying ‘Wanjiru’.
Thirty minutes after hitting the tarmac, I manage to retrace my route to Ndumbo, back to the Vet loop through the flyover and back to my residence. I read the wall clock at 9.59am. I had just conquered 21.5km - just like that. (G-map says 21.3km, but it does not cater for the terrain. My pedo has averaged 21.8km after about five runs on the route over time)
Happy
I am happy that I managed to do my own Sotokoto marathon in good time – 1.44.00. This is prefect revenge for the actual run that should also be finishing at Uhuru Gardens. After refreshing and even taking a day out to visit a colleague, I was eager to watch the evening news and confirm that the Sotokoto event actually happened. Why the sports news is usually the last part of news still puzzles me. (Probably a proof to humanity that sports issues are more trivial that we make them look). I had to wait until about 10.00pm for the sports news to be broadcast. There was nothing on Sotokoto. Was it because of the Wembley UEFA Champions League finals excitement where Barca trounced Man U, and in good fashion too? (From ‘trounced’ to ‘fashion’ are not my words. That is what the broadcaster said). I was left puzzled by this lack of mention to such an event that should have closed a major city road for over 3-hours.
Last laugh
The event organizers finally had the last laugh, when I visited their website…
Welcome to Sotokoto website – the third edition of the event shall be held on 31st July 2011. Countdown 61days 12hours 36minutes 40seconds.
WWB, Nairobi, May 30, 2011
When I left the house at 8.15am for the morning run, I deliberately put on the Sotokoto marathon T-shirt issued last year. This was to enable me compensate for the third annual edition of the run that I had surely missed. The inaugural run was held on May 15, 2009. The 2010 run was held on May 23.
Bad memories
I had heard little about the Sotokoto Safari marathon since the year began, apart from it being held in May as per tradition. I was not surprised that Sotokoto had not publicised the run. It has been their bad tradition to do everything wrong in organizing this marathon. Take last year for example. They had launched the run about six-weeks to the event and indicated registration centres as AK offices, Equity bank branches, Uhuru gardens secretariat and KWS offices. None of these listed centres were aware of this run weeks after the inauguration. Even the KWS headquarters offices seem to be lacking in details of the registration process. By one week to the run day, only KWS offices were accepting registration and payments, though they did not have the running kits. The kits were availed a day to the run. By run day, registrations were still ongoing. We did not get any medals or certificates. Enquiries one year later have not yielded any information on the fate of the participants certificates. That is what I mean by badly organized.
Revenge
My Sunday run was to be a slap on the face of the organizers. I was confident that the Safari marathon was being held on this Sunday, the 29th day of May. Their lack of proper publicity had prevented me from registering. Nonetheless, there was a good level of satisfaction, as I started my run with the Sotokoto kit. Revenge felt good. I would run my half-marathon at the comfort of the routes that I knew, even as the real Sotokoto took place on Langata road.
I had forgotten to carry my stopwatch from the workplace, having used it last during the Friday mid-day run. Nonetheless, I still had to determine my run time. The wall clock read 8.15am as I left the residential compound for the walk to the main road to start the run about a minute later. I started the run slowly to navigate the busy Uthuri main street, now crowding with church going people and noisy matatus, which have specialized in stopping anywhere in the middle of the road. These same brand have no respect for pedestrians or runners.
No runners
I took the flyover to Ndumbo at a slow pace and headed for the Vet loop at an increased pace. By the time I was through with the loop back to Ndumbo, I had settled on a comfortable pace. I went downhill toward the river, then uphill to ‘tarmac’. The run on Lower Kabete road to Ngecha diversion was uneventful. For the first time during a weekend run, I failed to meet a single runner! I usually meet one or two on this stretch. The Ngecha road to Getathuru road, a stretch of about 10 minutes, was fairly downhill, on road section that is in dire need of repairs.
The Getathuru road towards Kitisuru estate is uphill all the way to the diversion to the river and upto ‘tarmac’. This ten-minutes section was a big stress. At the Kitisuru stage, I pass a group of bystanders. They observe my approach having muted their conversation to let me passby. I glance backwards just in time to see one of them pointing in my direction while saying ‘Wanjiru’.
Thirty minutes after hitting the tarmac, I manage to retrace my route to Ndumbo, back to the Vet loop through the flyover and back to my residence. I read the wall clock at 9.59am. I had just conquered 21.5km - just like that. (G-map says 21.3km, but it does not cater for the terrain. My pedo has averaged 21.8km after about five runs on the route over time)
Happy
I am happy that I managed to do my own Sotokoto marathon in good time – 1.44.00. This is prefect revenge for the actual run that should also be finishing at Uhuru Gardens. After refreshing and even taking a day out to visit a colleague, I was eager to watch the evening news and confirm that the Sotokoto event actually happened. Why the sports news is usually the last part of news still puzzles me. (Probably a proof to humanity that sports issues are more trivial that we make them look). I had to wait until about 10.00pm for the sports news to be broadcast. There was nothing on Sotokoto. Was it because of the Wembley UEFA Champions League finals excitement where Barca trounced Man U, and in good fashion too? (From ‘trounced’ to ‘fashion’ are not my words. That is what the broadcaster said). I was left puzzled by this lack of mention to such an event that should have closed a major city road for over 3-hours.
Last laugh
The event organizers finally had the last laugh, when I visited their website…
Welcome to Sotokoto website – the third edition of the event shall be held on 31st July 2011. Countdown 61days 12hours 36minutes 40seconds.
WWB, Nairobi, May 30, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Western Kenya run, ignore rumours about the Muliro gardens
Western Kenya run, ignore rumours about the Muliro gardens
Nairobi, Kenya, March 20, 2011
We run – in every town
The 2011 run season started nine weeks ago. When I started the countdown with my running team on January 17, I did not know that time will run so fast, and that by the time am updating the blog some events would have shaped the course of our calendar in the year.
I just received invitation to participate, with my team, in the inaugural Kakamega Marathon 2011. This run was bound to happen sooner than later. This is because the trend in Kenya over the last three years has been to hold specific town runs to commemorate a particular aspect of the town, mostly conservational related issues. In this light, we have had the Nyeri marathon to conserve Mt. Kenya, the Nyahururu marathon to conserve the rivers that serve the central highlands, Eldoret marathon to celebrate our great rift valley and conserve it and the Nakuru and Naivasha marathons to conserve these lakes. We have even had the Mombasa marathon sensitizing residents of the need for a cleaner ocean and beachfront. The Kisumu City marathon educates participants on importance of conserving the Lake Victoria and encourages East African cooperation since the water mass connects the three countries. The Nairobi marathon remains the unique one – this one is for conservation of the eye sight!
Photos
I champion the interest of those interested in armature running. I would therefore encourage participation in any runs within and outside our country. It is this quest that has made me consider this forthcoming event. The Kakamega marathon happens this year in June. The initiative is spearheaded by Masinde Muliro University. The combination of the town and the institution has not resonated well in the past three weeks. This is after some x-rated photos made their way onto the net, purported to have been taken at Kakamega's Masinde Muliro Gardens, with some of the characters being claimed to be institutional students. The late Masinde Muliro was a freedom fighter and Kenyan hero, who hailed from the Western Kenya region. The gardens and the institution, both situated in the town, are named in his honour.
Since the showing of these pictures took a national dimension with all major news players in the country making it a headline, I knew that my task of championing the KK marathon would be hard, unless I did something about the news. Friends (and some haters) have even called me to state that, “You lunje's are very hyper! You go around getting it on the public park in broad daylight – wapende wasipende”
Let me therefore dispense with the matter of the photos so that we can go on with our lives. I have monitored several conversations on this topic and pointed out issues that contributors ignored in their commentary and outright harsh judgment. Having spent more than four continuous years in the town of KK, I know quite a lot about the town. Subsequently, the student loan scheme forced me to this town at least twice every year for another five years. I still pass by this town at least twice when visiting folks in that region. I have also handled a camera for quite a long time, starting with the manual film strip type, to the digital ones. I still like the feel and sharpness of a Fujifilm. A Canon that I used sometime mid-last year was also quite something, especially on daylight conditions. The Sony remains the popular and easier one to handle though.
Ten reasons
Let me start with a disclaimer that I do not support indecent exposure and public nudity. I believe that private matters should be kept private. Nonetheless, contrary to popular belief, the photos were fake and stage-managed to give KK town bad publicity. Ten reasons why you should not believe the stories behind the photos:
1. Why do we believe that the bench is located at the gardens in KK? It could be any bench anywhere. (I know there is a similar bench at Muliro Gardens, but is it the same? Currently someone is collecting 20/= for those willing to see this particular bench! Wasn’t this a script to collect money eventually?)
2. The actors were just that, actors. You can deduce this from their many actions (or lack of). You can clearly see that in some instances they seemed to be asking for direction on how to pose.
3. The hidden photographer concept is deliberately propagated. The location suggests that the camera is straight ahead, probably on steady hands (or a tripod). The photos are taken with a zoom setting with a clarity that suggests about 10-15m max. The camera is placed at eye level, about 1.5-2m above ground.
4. The photos posted on the internet were basically random, ignoring the order of how they were taken. This has caused quite some debate on 'taking yoghurt before' vis-a-vis 'taking after'. If one bothered to put the photos in the order of their being taken, then you would know that they were following a script.
5. There was no evidence of any action. Nudity is portrayed, but that is all – the rest is just taking of poses as instructed by the director.
6. Why did the news hit the media in March, when the photos were taken in December and January? Isn't news supposed to be 'news'?
7. The photos did not attempt to conceal the digital markers. So unless the photographer or the person processing is a digital guru, we know the model of the equipment used is a Sony DSC-W120, a fairly common armature equipment. The setting were mostly 3M auto, which affected some focal settings and hence the tint on some images. (A W120 is a 7.2mp camera at maximum setting, with a 2x digital zoom. Am a regular user of the superior W130, which is a 8.1mp and 4x zoom)
8. I have been told on my face that the actors are lunje's. Can you just know someone's tribe by looking at a photo? Isn't that too much of a generalization? Even the stereotyping of our gals was not considered when this generalization was being made!
9. I have already talked about the order in which the photos were taken. If you were to zero into the timing, then you shall have quite some food for thought. Some sequences are taken within a minute. Some change of position/posture could not happen in the time span. By the way, the police scene, that is mostly misjudged, needs to be taken in perspective. The action occurs first before the police meets the couple. It is not the other way round. So, if the police meet two people standing in a garden, what are they supposed to do? Charge them with 'prior action'? (And while at it, this was in December)
10. Lastly, why should we be bothered with consenting adults having their thing wherever they want, at whatever time they want to? They can record the sights and sounds if they so wish! My only discontent is the broadcasting of the material without the consent of the actors, and the subsequent passing of judgment.
Lets just run
The invitation for the Kakamega marathon 2011 was forwarded to my mailbox by one of the members of my running team. It is a run worth considering. It gives members of my running team, and anyone else the opportunity to not only participate in an endurance run, but also sample the scenery of the western Kenya circuit. This part of Kenya is predominantly agricultural, green most of the year and rainy throughout the seasons. The main cash crop is sugar cane, with major sugar factories located in Mumias and Nzoia. The people are quite friendly, the boda boda bicycle taxi concept has some roots in the region, while the mondia is quite a popular thing. I have deliberately left out the origin of the chicken as we know it, but that is for your finding out.
The details of this event are:
Host – Masinde Murilo University of Science and Technology
Theme – Conservation of the Kakamega Tropical Rain Forest
Purpose – nurture talent in sustainable management and conservation of biodiversity
Registration fees – Yet to be communicated (just budget 1,000/= (US$ 12) for this)
Date – Saturday, June 4, 2011
Time – 7.00am (subject to confirmation)
Run categories – 21km half marathon & 10km road run*
Starting point – Mumias town (for marathon)
Finishing point – Kakamega town
Registration modalities and deadline – Yet to be communicated
*There shall also be a 10-km road race, whose route is yet to be finalized. The 10km run will probably be held from Kakamega town through a 10-km circuit back to the town. (I still wonder how they shall manage two starting points, but the details shall follow).
How to get to Mumias
This is generally a fun run, that should enable you enjoy the good green environment of Western Kenya. The challenge is to be at the Mumias town starting point in good time. If you can manage a run immediately after travelling, then the easiest option is a Friday night bus from Nairobi to Mumias, arriving about 4.00am, then just go for the run after 3 hours of rest. Take a night bus at the country bus station. If you cannot make it to country bus station, then book either of Akamba Bus or Easy Coach that shall drop you at Mumias. The fare is about 1,200/= (US$ 15).
If you can afford the days, then travel on Friday daytime and spend the night in Mumias. Budget about 1,000/= (US$ 12) for bed and breakfast.
After the run, you have the option of an immediate travel back to Nairobi by connecting vehicles to Kisumu then Nairobi or to Eldoret then Nairobi. The former is shorter, with relatively many public service vehicles operating the route. There is the option of night travel after spending the day in Kakamega. You could take the day off to visit the Kakamega forest, which you were running to conserve. Park entrance fees are KShs.200/= for citizens, 500/= for residents and US$ 20 for non-residents.
Muliro Gardens
Whatever you do, make sure you visit the Muliro gardens – a quiet lush green garden full of shade and good ambiance. Occasionally a political or religious rally is held here, but these tend to be in the afternoons of weekends. The gardens are on a triangle formed by three road – the main Kisumu road, the Mumias road and the town road that connects the two. Be the judge on the existence of the bench. (Carry some loose change, as 'viewing' fees).
See you there, see you then.
Nairobi, Kenya, March 20, 2011
We run – in every town
The 2011 run season started nine weeks ago. When I started the countdown with my running team on January 17, I did not know that time will run so fast, and that by the time am updating the blog some events would have shaped the course of our calendar in the year.
I just received invitation to participate, with my team, in the inaugural Kakamega Marathon 2011. This run was bound to happen sooner than later. This is because the trend in Kenya over the last three years has been to hold specific town runs to commemorate a particular aspect of the town, mostly conservational related issues. In this light, we have had the Nyeri marathon to conserve Mt. Kenya, the Nyahururu marathon to conserve the rivers that serve the central highlands, Eldoret marathon to celebrate our great rift valley and conserve it and the Nakuru and Naivasha marathons to conserve these lakes. We have even had the Mombasa marathon sensitizing residents of the need for a cleaner ocean and beachfront. The Kisumu City marathon educates participants on importance of conserving the Lake Victoria and encourages East African cooperation since the water mass connects the three countries. The Nairobi marathon remains the unique one – this one is for conservation of the eye sight!
Photos
I champion the interest of those interested in armature running. I would therefore encourage participation in any runs within and outside our country. It is this quest that has made me consider this forthcoming event. The Kakamega marathon happens this year in June. The initiative is spearheaded by Masinde Muliro University. The combination of the town and the institution has not resonated well in the past three weeks. This is after some x-rated photos made their way onto the net, purported to have been taken at Kakamega's Masinde Muliro Gardens, with some of the characters being claimed to be institutional students. The late Masinde Muliro was a freedom fighter and Kenyan hero, who hailed from the Western Kenya region. The gardens and the institution, both situated in the town, are named in his honour.
Since the showing of these pictures took a national dimension with all major news players in the country making it a headline, I knew that my task of championing the KK marathon would be hard, unless I did something about the news. Friends (and some haters) have even called me to state that, “You lunje's are very hyper! You go around getting it on the public park in broad daylight – wapende wasipende”
Let me therefore dispense with the matter of the photos so that we can go on with our lives. I have monitored several conversations on this topic and pointed out issues that contributors ignored in their commentary and outright harsh judgment. Having spent more than four continuous years in the town of KK, I know quite a lot about the town. Subsequently, the student loan scheme forced me to this town at least twice every year for another five years. I still pass by this town at least twice when visiting folks in that region. I have also handled a camera for quite a long time, starting with the manual film strip type, to the digital ones. I still like the feel and sharpness of a Fujifilm. A Canon that I used sometime mid-last year was also quite something, especially on daylight conditions. The Sony remains the popular and easier one to handle though.
Ten reasons
Let me start with a disclaimer that I do not support indecent exposure and public nudity. I believe that private matters should be kept private. Nonetheless, contrary to popular belief, the photos were fake and stage-managed to give KK town bad publicity. Ten reasons why you should not believe the stories behind the photos:
1. Why do we believe that the bench is located at the gardens in KK? It could be any bench anywhere. (I know there is a similar bench at Muliro Gardens, but is it the same? Currently someone is collecting 20/= for those willing to see this particular bench! Wasn’t this a script to collect money eventually?)
2. The actors were just that, actors. You can deduce this from their many actions (or lack of). You can clearly see that in some instances they seemed to be asking for direction on how to pose.
3. The hidden photographer concept is deliberately propagated. The location suggests that the camera is straight ahead, probably on steady hands (or a tripod). The photos are taken with a zoom setting with a clarity that suggests about 10-15m max. The camera is placed at eye level, about 1.5-2m above ground.
4. The photos posted on the internet were basically random, ignoring the order of how they were taken. This has caused quite some debate on 'taking yoghurt before' vis-a-vis 'taking after'. If one bothered to put the photos in the order of their being taken, then you would know that they were following a script.
5. There was no evidence of any action. Nudity is portrayed, but that is all – the rest is just taking of poses as instructed by the director.
6. Why did the news hit the media in March, when the photos were taken in December and January? Isn't news supposed to be 'news'?
7. The photos did not attempt to conceal the digital markers. So unless the photographer or the person processing is a digital guru, we know the model of the equipment used is a Sony DSC-W120, a fairly common armature equipment. The setting were mostly 3M auto, which affected some focal settings and hence the tint on some images. (A W120 is a 7.2mp camera at maximum setting, with a 2x digital zoom. Am a regular user of the superior W130, which is a 8.1mp and 4x zoom)
8. I have been told on my face that the actors are lunje's. Can you just know someone's tribe by looking at a photo? Isn't that too much of a generalization? Even the stereotyping of our gals was not considered when this generalization was being made!
9. I have already talked about the order in which the photos were taken. If you were to zero into the timing, then you shall have quite some food for thought. Some sequences are taken within a minute. Some change of position/posture could not happen in the time span. By the way, the police scene, that is mostly misjudged, needs to be taken in perspective. The action occurs first before the police meets the couple. It is not the other way round. So, if the police meet two people standing in a garden, what are they supposed to do? Charge them with 'prior action'? (And while at it, this was in December)
10. Lastly, why should we be bothered with consenting adults having their thing wherever they want, at whatever time they want to? They can record the sights and sounds if they so wish! My only discontent is the broadcasting of the material without the consent of the actors, and the subsequent passing of judgment.
Lets just run
The invitation for the Kakamega marathon 2011 was forwarded to my mailbox by one of the members of my running team. It is a run worth considering. It gives members of my running team, and anyone else the opportunity to not only participate in an endurance run, but also sample the scenery of the western Kenya circuit. This part of Kenya is predominantly agricultural, green most of the year and rainy throughout the seasons. The main cash crop is sugar cane, with major sugar factories located in Mumias and Nzoia. The people are quite friendly, the boda boda bicycle taxi concept has some roots in the region, while the mondia is quite a popular thing. I have deliberately left out the origin of the chicken as we know it, but that is for your finding out.
The details of this event are:
Host – Masinde Murilo University of Science and Technology
Theme – Conservation of the Kakamega Tropical Rain Forest
Purpose – nurture talent in sustainable management and conservation of biodiversity
Registration fees – Yet to be communicated (just budget 1,000/= (US$ 12) for this)
Date – Saturday, June 4, 2011
Time – 7.00am (subject to confirmation)
Run categories – 21km half marathon & 10km road run*
Starting point – Mumias town (for marathon)
Finishing point – Kakamega town
Registration modalities and deadline – Yet to be communicated
*There shall also be a 10-km road race, whose route is yet to be finalized. The 10km run will probably be held from Kakamega town through a 10-km circuit back to the town. (I still wonder how they shall manage two starting points, but the details shall follow).
How to get to Mumias
This is generally a fun run, that should enable you enjoy the good green environment of Western Kenya. The challenge is to be at the Mumias town starting point in good time. If you can manage a run immediately after travelling, then the easiest option is a Friday night bus from Nairobi to Mumias, arriving about 4.00am, then just go for the run after 3 hours of rest. Take a night bus at the country bus station. If you cannot make it to country bus station, then book either of Akamba Bus or Easy Coach that shall drop you at Mumias. The fare is about 1,200/= (US$ 15).
If you can afford the days, then travel on Friday daytime and spend the night in Mumias. Budget about 1,000/= (US$ 12) for bed and breakfast.
After the run, you have the option of an immediate travel back to Nairobi by connecting vehicles to Kisumu then Nairobi or to Eldoret then Nairobi. The former is shorter, with relatively many public service vehicles operating the route. There is the option of night travel after spending the day in Kakamega. You could take the day off to visit the Kakamega forest, which you were running to conserve. Park entrance fees are KShs.200/= for citizens, 500/= for residents and US$ 20 for non-residents.
Muliro Gardens
Whatever you do, make sure you visit the Muliro gardens – a quiet lush green garden full of shade and good ambiance. Occasionally a political or religious rally is held here, but these tend to be in the afternoons of weekends. The gardens are on a triangle formed by three road – the main Kisumu road, the Mumias road and the town road that connects the two. Be the judge on the existence of the bench. (Carry some loose change, as 'viewing' fees).
See you there, see you then.
Wanjawa, W. B., Nairobi, March 20, 2011
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Nairobi Marathon 2010 - the week in contrast
Marathon 2010 – the week in contrast
November 6, 2010
Too close
Here I was, standing just a few metres from the most powerful man in the country. The national anthem, which had played so many times in my lifetime, was on. The brass band had over-done themselves on this tune. Their sound was coming from my immediate left, the man of the moment just straight ahead, while we were on a tent just opposite the main dais. The weather was still, with no sunshine. In fact, it started drizzling as the Agricultural secretary was giving his remarks. Those on my immediate front row, being exposes to the drizzles, started dragging their seats backwards, causing a momentary commotion. The many men in dark suits were in chagrin – but on this day they must have been sufficiently philanthropic, since they did not make any attempt to move towards our tent.
But where was such a weather when we needed it last Sunday? On this thirty-first day of October, I had woken up at 5am and took breakfast, whose paraphernalia had been set the previous night. (On the same prep day Saturday, I had spend the whole day virtually in bed – a prerequisite rest before the full 42km run that I was to participate in). After breakfast, I dressed up in the running gear, which consisted a polyster T-shirt branded '24-hour Banking' on the front side. Just below these words, was affixed my race number 459. I had already written my details on the lower part of the number, just below the perforation. The back side of the shirt must have been branded 'Run for Sight' – but I did not have eyes behind me, so I would have to read someone else's or ask someone to read it for me. I had the blue running shorts and brown sports shoes. The timing chip was this time round affixed behind the run number and was disposable. (Previously, we were provided with white disc shaped timers that we affixed on the running shoes. These would be handed back at the finishing line).
Early morning
I left the house at 5.30am for the 15minutes walk to the assembly point at the workplace. The departure time was to be strictly 6.00am. At the main gate, I found the bus ready. I had spend the last three days of the working week reminding the driver of the importance of this day. On Friday he had reconfirmed that he would be at the compound by 5.45am. We had already purchased some bottled water and energy drinks, which we now loaded onto the bus as we awaited the departure time. True to threat, at exactly 6.00am, the bus left the compound. By this time, two athletes who had confirmed use of bus had not yet arrived – but an agreement is an agreement.
The Ngong road was unusually free from its characteristic traffic jam that persists almost 24-hours daily. By 6.30am we were already at the KNH-Mbagathi road junction. We took Mbagathi road towards Langata road, with the intention of joining Langata road to the Nyayo stadium venue of the event. At the junction, however, we found the road towards the stadium already closed. The time was just about 6.40am. The alternative route would take us through some side roads to finally get us near the stadium. This is where I alighted and started my jog towards the stadium. I knew that my race was about to start and could not risk any more time in the bus. The rest remained in the bus to navigate through the now jammed alternative route.
I joined the big crowd that was at the 42km assembly point on Mombasa road, just after the area marked '42km elite runners'. The elites were behind the starting line. At this early time of the morning, the weather was unpredictable. It was cool as any typical morning, but lacked insight into what it would bring forth in the next few hours. At 6.55am the horn sounded and the wheel chair race started, about twenty metres from where I was standing. This marked the start of movement of all athletes towards the starting line. The announcer requested athletes to keep still, but the mass of humanity pressed forward to the starting point. A restraining human shield of about twenty security guards lined up across the road, attempted to push athletes back. Only the easing of pressure from the runners enabled their shield to remain intact, otherwise their efforts were nothing compared to the thousands eager to start the run.
Starting out
At exactly 7.00am there was sound of gun shot – this is what marked the beginning of the run. My first thoughts as I started off easily were the rationale behind having a gun start such important events. Aren't guns symbolism for death and murder? But I let this line of thought slip through, as I headed for the railway flyover towards the Uhuru park circuit. Later I would get back to Uhuru highway from the park, run to University way roundabout, then Kenyatta avenue tour back to the Uhuru highway. We did a short tour of Parliament road, then another tour of Haile Sellasie avenue. Each of these city street tours got us back to Uhuru highway.
I was back to the stadium at about 7.45am. I expected to have covered about 10km by this time. We were just using the same route of last year, which I was now very farmiliar with. The part of the run that I hate is the two circuits on Mombasa road, each about 16km. I was at the extreme end of the course on the first circuit at about 8.20am. Then all of a sudden, the sun was switched on!
One week later, here I am enjoying this fine weather. After the initial drizzles, the weather has improved quite suddenly. In a blink, the showers are off and a mild but warm sunshine has emerged overhead. It is now about one o'clock. “May I now take this opportunity to invite His Excellency the President to address you. Welcome Mr. President,” the Minister for Livestock Development declares.
There is applause, while those on the main podium and the next ones to the left and right stand up. The big group on our tent stays put. The rest resume their seats when the president starts his speech. The good weather provides perfect atmosphere for photography. While our research activities is receiving accolades from the highest quarters, our armature photography is being put to the test, as we click away. But the thought of last weekend's run could just not go away...
The sun
When the sun started heating me after 8.20am, I decided to put on the cap that I was all along just carrying on my hand. The run back to the stadium for the second circuit was uneventful. I met with the 21km runners on my side of the road, and saw the others on the opposite side. Someone shouts, “Prezi,” on the opposite side of the road. I recognize a familiar cap. I raise my own cap in acknowledgment. As we face the second circuit at the Nyayo stadium roundabout, there is a sign that reads '42km first round, turn right'. I am full of envy for the 21km runners who are on a compulsory '21km turn left to stadium'.
The second circuit was memorable for the intensive sun. It was the hottest day in my run history at the Nairobi event! I severally had to pour the bottled water on my head to keep me going. The organizers compensated for this by making sure that water was available at all water points in the course of both circuits – something that they neglected last year (though the weather favoured them then). I ensured that I picked a 250ml water bottle at each water point since the start of the run at the city tour circuit. (I recall a fellow athlete warning me not to 'take water' during my run. I looked at him and knew that he was running for the first time at a stretch more that 10km). In fact I had to start picking two water bottles at each point as I was getting back to the finish on the second circuit. I took some and washed myself in the rest. It was hot, I told you!
Every year the organizers fail in this particular area, and this year was no exception – the distance markers! There was none, apart from one that indicated '35km' somewhere on Mombasa road. When I saw it on the first circuit, after about 90minutes of run, I was about so celebrate breaking of a record, since that would mean finishing the run in about 2hrs! But I had studied the map and knew that it was a two-circuit run. I now realize that the marker was even misplaced, based on the timing that I finally did. I was embarrassed to see a lot of distance markers laying in a pile at the extreme end of the run circuit on Mombasa road!!
Good times
While David Barmasai, 893, was finishing the run in 2.10.31 followed by Philemon Gitia in 2.11.10 and Vincent Sittuk in 2.12.09, the ladies champs were just behind them. Hellen Kiprop lead their pack in 2.31.11, while Leah Malot and Frashiah Nyambura followed in 2.33.41 and 2.35.09. The course records of 2.10.12 and 2.28.07 respectively were still intact. I had seen these athletes heading to the finish line while I was on the second circuit. I was not bothered though. I was ready to finish the run in whatever time this year. A 3.30hr would make me happy, but any finish time was good enough. I was doing the third consecutive 42km with varied past results – both of which were under 3.30hr. My inaugural run in '08 was done in 3.26.27 on a cool Nairobi morning. My best time was achieved last year when I did a 3.07.51 run – but at the expense of almost not making it for another run. When I finally reached the stadium for the finish, my time was reading 3.26.00 as I finalized the last 400m inside the stadium. The final drive to the finish line was achieved due to the cheers from colleagues at the terraces. But where were the photographers to capture this big moment?
It is not long since about seven football fans died at this same stadium following a stampede when one of the gates was broken down. This event led to the closure of the stadium for all events. There was even fear that the marathon may be canceled or relocated to a different venue. Being allowed to use the venue came at a price – no one was allowed in the main field. After finishing the run, all were being directed outside the stadium, then to the terraces. After my run, I picked a medal at the tents outside the stadium, then walked to the assembly point where other colleagues were. I noticed that the medal did not indicate the run date or year! It simply had inscription 'Standard Chartered Nairobi Marathon 42km finisher'. The lace however indicated 'Nairobi Marathon 2010'. (The medals upto 2008 indicated the date of run and run series on the medal itself. I know that recycling is a worldwide phenomena, but surely, not the medals!). We hardly managed any photos before we were on our way out. The usual entertainment, taking a walk in the field, medical camps, food stations, drink vendors, photography at the finishers podium and the traditional group photo at the finish line were all left to nostalgia – the stadium was just closed!
The Helix
On this Friday when the final anthem was played and the president departed, we were left with the opportunity to visit the commemorative plaque that he had just unveiled. There were so many colleague photographers to capture the moment. The red carpet, the podium, the presidential dais, the helix (this DNA structure was actually what the day was all about. The structure stands about two meter tall). Beneath the helix, was the plaque that read “BecA Hub was officially opened by HE The President of The Republic of Kenya on 5-Nov-2010”.
Last Sunday night I slept tired, with arching legs and forced to wake up to a work day. One week later, am waking up late, rested and feeling good. It is not a work day and I can still afford another rest day tomorrow. Last Sunday, someone shouted 'prezi' while I was on the track. One week later, it is mentioned in whispers with lots of caution. Last Sunday, I could only guess my final run time. One week later, my final time is published at the marathon website as 3.27.14. The events of yesterday a real contrast to those of last Sunday.
WWB, Nairobi, Kenya, November 6, 2010
November 6, 2010
Too close
Here I was, standing just a few metres from the most powerful man in the country. The national anthem, which had played so many times in my lifetime, was on. The brass band had over-done themselves on this tune. Their sound was coming from my immediate left, the man of the moment just straight ahead, while we were on a tent just opposite the main dais. The weather was still, with no sunshine. In fact, it started drizzling as the Agricultural secretary was giving his remarks. Those on my immediate front row, being exposes to the drizzles, started dragging their seats backwards, causing a momentary commotion. The many men in dark suits were in chagrin – but on this day they must have been sufficiently philanthropic, since they did not make any attempt to move towards our tent.
But where was such a weather when we needed it last Sunday? On this thirty-first day of October, I had woken up at 5am and took breakfast, whose paraphernalia had been set the previous night. (On the same prep day Saturday, I had spend the whole day virtually in bed – a prerequisite rest before the full 42km run that I was to participate in). After breakfast, I dressed up in the running gear, which consisted a polyster T-shirt branded '24-hour Banking' on the front side. Just below these words, was affixed my race number 459. I had already written my details on the lower part of the number, just below the perforation. The back side of the shirt must have been branded 'Run for Sight' – but I did not have eyes behind me, so I would have to read someone else's or ask someone to read it for me. I had the blue running shorts and brown sports shoes. The timing chip was this time round affixed behind the run number and was disposable. (Previously, we were provided with white disc shaped timers that we affixed on the running shoes. These would be handed back at the finishing line).
Early morning
I left the house at 5.30am for the 15minutes walk to the assembly point at the workplace. The departure time was to be strictly 6.00am. At the main gate, I found the bus ready. I had spend the last three days of the working week reminding the driver of the importance of this day. On Friday he had reconfirmed that he would be at the compound by 5.45am. We had already purchased some bottled water and energy drinks, which we now loaded onto the bus as we awaited the departure time. True to threat, at exactly 6.00am, the bus left the compound. By this time, two athletes who had confirmed use of bus had not yet arrived – but an agreement is an agreement.
The Ngong road was unusually free from its characteristic traffic jam that persists almost 24-hours daily. By 6.30am we were already at the KNH-Mbagathi road junction. We took Mbagathi road towards Langata road, with the intention of joining Langata road to the Nyayo stadium venue of the event. At the junction, however, we found the road towards the stadium already closed. The time was just about 6.40am. The alternative route would take us through some side roads to finally get us near the stadium. This is where I alighted and started my jog towards the stadium. I knew that my race was about to start and could not risk any more time in the bus. The rest remained in the bus to navigate through the now jammed alternative route.
I joined the big crowd that was at the 42km assembly point on Mombasa road, just after the area marked '42km elite runners'. The elites were behind the starting line. At this early time of the morning, the weather was unpredictable. It was cool as any typical morning, but lacked insight into what it would bring forth in the next few hours. At 6.55am the horn sounded and the wheel chair race started, about twenty metres from where I was standing. This marked the start of movement of all athletes towards the starting line. The announcer requested athletes to keep still, but the mass of humanity pressed forward to the starting point. A restraining human shield of about twenty security guards lined up across the road, attempted to push athletes back. Only the easing of pressure from the runners enabled their shield to remain intact, otherwise their efforts were nothing compared to the thousands eager to start the run.
Starting out
At exactly 7.00am there was sound of gun shot – this is what marked the beginning of the run. My first thoughts as I started off easily were the rationale behind having a gun start such important events. Aren't guns symbolism for death and murder? But I let this line of thought slip through, as I headed for the railway flyover towards the Uhuru park circuit. Later I would get back to Uhuru highway from the park, run to University way roundabout, then Kenyatta avenue tour back to the Uhuru highway. We did a short tour of Parliament road, then another tour of Haile Sellasie avenue. Each of these city street tours got us back to Uhuru highway.
I was back to the stadium at about 7.45am. I expected to have covered about 10km by this time. We were just using the same route of last year, which I was now very farmiliar with. The part of the run that I hate is the two circuits on Mombasa road, each about 16km. I was at the extreme end of the course on the first circuit at about 8.20am. Then all of a sudden, the sun was switched on!
One week later, here I am enjoying this fine weather. After the initial drizzles, the weather has improved quite suddenly. In a blink, the showers are off and a mild but warm sunshine has emerged overhead. It is now about one o'clock. “May I now take this opportunity to invite His Excellency the President to address you. Welcome Mr. President,” the Minister for Livestock Development declares.
There is applause, while those on the main podium and the next ones to the left and right stand up. The big group on our tent stays put. The rest resume their seats when the president starts his speech. The good weather provides perfect atmosphere for photography. While our research activities is receiving accolades from the highest quarters, our armature photography is being put to the test, as we click away. But the thought of last weekend's run could just not go away...
The sun
When the sun started heating me after 8.20am, I decided to put on the cap that I was all along just carrying on my hand. The run back to the stadium for the second circuit was uneventful. I met with the 21km runners on my side of the road, and saw the others on the opposite side. Someone shouts, “Prezi,” on the opposite side of the road. I recognize a familiar cap. I raise my own cap in acknowledgment. As we face the second circuit at the Nyayo stadium roundabout, there is a sign that reads '42km first round, turn right'. I am full of envy for the 21km runners who are on a compulsory '21km turn left to stadium'.
The second circuit was memorable for the intensive sun. It was the hottest day in my run history at the Nairobi event! I severally had to pour the bottled water on my head to keep me going. The organizers compensated for this by making sure that water was available at all water points in the course of both circuits – something that they neglected last year (though the weather favoured them then). I ensured that I picked a 250ml water bottle at each water point since the start of the run at the city tour circuit. (I recall a fellow athlete warning me not to 'take water' during my run. I looked at him and knew that he was running for the first time at a stretch more that 10km). In fact I had to start picking two water bottles at each point as I was getting back to the finish on the second circuit. I took some and washed myself in the rest. It was hot, I told you!
Every year the organizers fail in this particular area, and this year was no exception – the distance markers! There was none, apart from one that indicated '35km' somewhere on Mombasa road. When I saw it on the first circuit, after about 90minutes of run, I was about so celebrate breaking of a record, since that would mean finishing the run in about 2hrs! But I had studied the map and knew that it was a two-circuit run. I now realize that the marker was even misplaced, based on the timing that I finally did. I was embarrassed to see a lot of distance markers laying in a pile at the extreme end of the run circuit on Mombasa road!!
Good times
While David Barmasai, 893, was finishing the run in 2.10.31 followed by Philemon Gitia in 2.11.10 and Vincent Sittuk in 2.12.09, the ladies champs were just behind them. Hellen Kiprop lead their pack in 2.31.11, while Leah Malot and Frashiah Nyambura followed in 2.33.41 and 2.35.09. The course records of 2.10.12 and 2.28.07 respectively were still intact. I had seen these athletes heading to the finish line while I was on the second circuit. I was not bothered though. I was ready to finish the run in whatever time this year. A 3.30hr would make me happy, but any finish time was good enough. I was doing the third consecutive 42km with varied past results – both of which were under 3.30hr. My inaugural run in '08 was done in 3.26.27 on a cool Nairobi morning. My best time was achieved last year when I did a 3.07.51 run – but at the expense of almost not making it for another run. When I finally reached the stadium for the finish, my time was reading 3.26.00 as I finalized the last 400m inside the stadium. The final drive to the finish line was achieved due to the cheers from colleagues at the terraces. But where were the photographers to capture this big moment?
It is not long since about seven football fans died at this same stadium following a stampede when one of the gates was broken down. This event led to the closure of the stadium for all events. There was even fear that the marathon may be canceled or relocated to a different venue. Being allowed to use the venue came at a price – no one was allowed in the main field. After finishing the run, all were being directed outside the stadium, then to the terraces. After my run, I picked a medal at the tents outside the stadium, then walked to the assembly point where other colleagues were. I noticed that the medal did not indicate the run date or year! It simply had inscription 'Standard Chartered Nairobi Marathon 42km finisher'. The lace however indicated 'Nairobi Marathon 2010'. (The medals upto 2008 indicated the date of run and run series on the medal itself. I know that recycling is a worldwide phenomena, but surely, not the medals!). We hardly managed any photos before we were on our way out. The usual entertainment, taking a walk in the field, medical camps, food stations, drink vendors, photography at the finishers podium and the traditional group photo at the finish line were all left to nostalgia – the stadium was just closed!
The Helix
On this Friday when the final anthem was played and the president departed, we were left with the opportunity to visit the commemorative plaque that he had just unveiled. There were so many colleague photographers to capture the moment. The red carpet, the podium, the presidential dais, the helix (this DNA structure was actually what the day was all about. The structure stands about two meter tall). Beneath the helix, was the plaque that read “BecA Hub was officially opened by HE The President of The Republic of Kenya on 5-Nov-2010”.
Last Sunday night I slept tired, with arching legs and forced to wake up to a work day. One week later, am waking up late, rested and feeling good. It is not a work day and I can still afford another rest day tomorrow. Last Sunday, someone shouted 'prezi' while I was on the track. One week later, it is mentioned in whispers with lots of caution. Last Sunday, I could only guess my final run time. One week later, my final time is published at the marathon website as 3.27.14. The events of yesterday a real contrast to those of last Sunday.
WWB, Nairobi, Kenya, November 6, 2010
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