5 runs in 5 days challenge – Day 1 of 5

5 runs in 5 days challenge – Day 1 of 5

I knew that it would be a tough week when the MOE* introduced the 5-runs-in-5-days challenge.  The email notification was direct and to the point, “This week’s challenge is the 5-runs-in-5-days starting today, and daily, until Friday”

*MOE = marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes the run events

“What is wrong with the MOE,” I heard a colleague marathoner asking soon after the email was sent around ten in the morning on this downcast Monday, June 13.

“What about?,” I queried.

“Imagine, they have set a 5-day run without notice!  They want to kill us before next week’s marathon, or something!?”

“Must be ‘or something’,” I responded.

I knew, being part of the MOE, that this was a last-minute surprise that was meant to invigorate the group that has been quite low since the COVID19 hiatus that started March 2020.  Worldwide corona virus related deaths were virtually zero at that point in time.  Two years and three months later and the global* death toll has now reached 6,332,729 from 541,127,668 confirmed infections, hence a death rate of 1.2%.  Kenya numbers were now standing at 5,651 and 327,145 respectively, hence a mortality rate of 1.7%.

*source: worldometers website

However, many things had happened since that fateful March 13, 2020 date when Kenya was put on a corona lockdown.  We now have at least four approved COVID19 vaccines in use worldwide, out of which the country has benefited from many free doses.  Mass vaccination has majorly put a halt to corona.  We no longer put on masks.  Social distancing is a vocabulary nearly forgotten and is likely to slip out of our normal lingua.  We no longer ‘gota’ to greet.  We have gone back to real handshakes.  I do not even remember the last time that I saw or used a hand sanitizer!

So, the MOE we just sprucing up things by throwing in this 5-day challenge at no notice.  It has never been done before, but the time was right.  The deal was made sweeter by the stipulation that ‘the distance did not matter’.  It was therefore a doable thing.

I knew that the first, second and fourth runs would be the most difficult.  The first run occurs when the body is coming from some restful period.  In my case I had not been on the road for a run since last Tuesday.  Seven days of no run would make run day number 1 a difficult one.  Number 2 run is usually difficult due to the pain of the first run.  The fourth run comes at a time when you do not want to let yourself down as you gear up for the final.  That anxiety can cause you to miss that run number 4.  The final run is just pure adrenaline.  It is the final and you must just do it.

The first run lived to its expectations.  The day was cold, if anything, chilly.  There had been no ray of sun from the early morning, if anything, it drizzled.  I was lethargic from a long rest period.  I however found myself at the locker room ready for the run.  I had already decided that the challenge shall all be run on the Uthiru-Kabete Poly-Ndumboini-Wangari Maathai-Kapenguria road-river-tarmac and back circuit.  That would give me at least a 10k per day.  That was a doable daily distance, hopefully.

I started the run at 12.45pm.  It turned out to be a cold run on a 12.6km course, over the lunch hour in 1:06:27.  I finished the run without a sweat, just due to the sheer intensity of the cold weather.  That does not mean that I was having it easy.  Far from it.  I was tired, thirsty, and hungry.  I however knew that the real test would be on the Tuesday run, the number 2 run.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, June 15, 2022

It rains when we run – the second international says so

It rains when we run – the second international says so

The second international marathon held on Friday, May 27 was not so much different from the previous one ran on April 28, albeit the first one being held on a Thursday and the fact that I was suffering a cold that had put me down for three days so far as I prepared for this May run.  The second run still started at the Generator at a few minutes past 1615hrs, despite the run being a strictly 1600hrs run.  Edu was there for this second one once more.  He told us to wait for a new comer whom I had not met before.  He introduced him before he joined us, as ‘he has ties to the team, real ties’.  I let that puzzle slip as I saw someone approach the generator.  He said a familiar ‘Hi’ to Edu, and a casual salutation in my direction.  We took the start-or-run picture and we were soon off for the immediate uphill that comes just 200metres from the starting point.

It was still hot with the evening sun hardly at the horizon.  We left and kept going at a relatively slow pace.  I led the pack as we headed to Waiyaki way past Kabete Polytechnic, and crossed the road at the Uthiru flyover to head towards Ndumboini.  We then went downhill past Wangari Maathai Institute to the river, and then faced the second uphill as we headed towards Lower Kabete road junction.

We just ran and ran in a relaxed pace.  We ran some one kilometre on Lower Kabete road, diverted to the left towards Mary Leakey school and finally got to the University farm at some point in the run.  We finally got to ‘the tank’, the point at which the usually muddy Uni road gets to the Kanyariri tarmac.  We had just done 10km and were almost half way through the run.

Going towards Kanyariri ACK and finally the right turn towards Kanyariri Centre on the Gitaru-Wangige road was our next course in the run.  It is just under the overhead busy road that we did the U-turn and were now headed back on same route to ‘the tank’, then straight on from the tank to Ndumbo.  All was well until the tank, when it started to drizzle.  We faced the Ndumboini hill when it was virtually raining.  However, it was short lived despite it having soaked our clothes and running shoes.

We finished the run in less than twenty-minutes after passing by Ndumboini on our way back.  I stopped my timer after a time duration of 2:24:43 for 22.33km in case, having starting before the starting point and finishing after the finish point.

It had hardly rained since the April run, when it had rained for the full day on that run day.  We only got a reprieve in the evening to have the April marathon, which was otherwise heading for a cancellation.  And keeping to the same tradition, it started raining just around eight on this Friday of the second international.  It was not past eight and we had now gathered for the ‘Lakeside evening’, where revelers get to partake of delicacies from the lake region.  That is the day I heard of vocs such as aliya, athola, obambla, cham, buss, osuga, akeyo, mtoo, apoth, ngege, omena and aluru (which was advertised but was not there).  It was still raining heavily at ten when I got a lift home after this May run and the subsequent party.

It has hardly rained since that May run, and I can for sure say that the next rainy day shall be June 24, when we shall be having our third international marathon codename ‘Divas International’.  But do not take my word for it.  Just experience it in the next three weeks.

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, June 6, 2022

The first marathon since Corona – when the unexpected happens

The first marathon since Corona – when the unexpected happens

The last time we held our regular monthly international marathons was in March 2020 – yes, March 2020.  And even at that time the corona thing almost cancelled that run.  The monthly runs over the 21k distance had by then become a permanent event in our marathoners’ calendar.  It was consistent, it was anticipated, it was a crowd puller, and it was the only talk in our marathoners’ groups.

It was therefore a real relief when the MOE* finally agreed to arrange for the first marathon after corona break.  This run was to the next one that follows the last run held in March, being the April run, albeit April 2022 – 24-months later!

*marathoners of expert – the organizers of the event

However, many things had changed in the 24-months hiatus.  While putting on masks, social distancing, handwashing, sanitizing, curfews, working from home and fear of the unknown had been the language since 2020 towards 2021, the tone had changed to vaccination and return to normal, from late 2021.  By January 2022 the country and most of the world had lifted the mask mandate and rescinded most COVID-19 restrictions.  Working from home had ended and life back to the office had become the norm.  

The world had evolved from 537,042 infections and 24,110 deaths as at March 27, 2020 to 513,670,092 infections and 6,262,095 deaths as at May 2, 2022.  Kenyan numbers were now 323,295 and 5,649 respectively*.  This was a global 1,000 fold increase in infections and 260 times increase in deaths in that 2-year period.  However, the end had now come, with vaccinations, medications and therapeutics halting corona on its heels.  We had moved from calling corona ‘the thing’ (TT) in low toned whispers, to calling it by name and fearing nothing!

*source: worldometers

It therefore did not come as a surprise when the MOE decided to hold the first international marathon of 2022 in the month of April and set the date of the run for the last Friday, as has been the tradition.  The date of Friday April 29 was therefore communicated as the day of the marathon and the runners were asked to start preparing for this inaugural run.  I made this big announcement on April 11.  The organizers were however cognizant that the runners may not be ready for this, having had no serious run in two years, but we had to start somewhere.

I talked to three veteran runners and got their buy in, just to ensure that we could deal with a worst-case scenario where no one turns up.  They all committed to participating in the run.  The month however had many unknowns that would unfold from that date.  To start with, the unexpected would happen, when the former president of the republic of Kenya, Mwai Kibaki passed on on Friday, April 21, hardly one week to our marathon.  It was not long before the Friday when we were to have the marathon was declared a public holiday.

We usually leverage on the fact that we have staff on duty to raise the numbers for the marathon.  That is why we hold the runs on a working day.  A run during a public holiday, when the staff are not on duty, would not be tenable.  We therefore made a last-minute decision, hardly three days to the marathon, that we were rescheduling the run.  The options that we considered were to keep the Friday date, to move the run to the next week or to cancel the run altogether and wait for the next one in May.  

We decided to reschedule it to Thursday, April 28, one day earlier than planned.  It was on the same date of rescheduling that I was got confirmation that two of the three veteran runners were also cancelling their participation due to other engagements.  That meant that the B-and-B team, a persistent pair of runners from pre-corona days, was not getting back in this run.  However, one B was doing this run whatever happens.

The new Thursday date still had its challenges.  We were coming up for a long weekend, with Friday being the day of national mourning, while the Monday of May 2 would also be a holiday that extends Labour day.  It became even more complicated when Tuesday was declared a holiday as Eid-Al-Fitir, to mark the Islamic end of Ramadhan period.  We were facing a 5-day long weekend.  Our runners were likely to be on a holiday mood, than on a running mood come the run-day Thursday.

I however kept hope alive and was still confident of a successful first group run of the year.  I still had one firmed up confirmation for the 21k.  Thursday was it.

The rain started around ten o’clock on the night of Wednesday.  It was still raining when I woke up the next morning at seven, ready for the 1.4km walk to the work place.  The rain continued the whole morning on the run-day Thursday.  It was still drizzling by two in the afternoon.  For all intents and purposes, this run was technically headed for a cancellation.  We could not risk allowing our runners to be out there through the rains.  It was now two hours to the 4pm start time of the 21km run and the rains were not relenting.

We had one other last minute decision to make.  The 21km route, as originally formulated, has a section of about 1.5km through the university farm that is usually impassibly muddy during the rains.  We had not anticipated any rains when formulating the route and had included this section on our map.  We now had to revise the route, hardly 2-hours before the run, to exclude this section.  I was back on Google map to reformulate the route and share with the runners while they still had time to consider the change.

And just like that, the rain stopped, and the sun came up.  This happened at 3.00pm, just one hour to the start of the run.  The run that was surely under cancellation was now back on, on a revised route.

When Edward and I started the run at 4.15pm, I was already about 2km deep into my own run.  This is because I had left the locker room at 3.56pm to the Generator starting point but did not find Edu.  I assumed that he must be waiting at the gate, since the revised route was to start at the gate.  I therefore ran to the gate but still did not find him there.  I tried his phone, but this was futile, since I knew that he does not go running with his phone.  I informed the guards to ask Edu to wait for me, should he come by in my absence, since I had already decided to go back to the Generator once again to see if he was there.  I got to the generator at 4.13pm and found him there waiting.

“Did you see the new route?,” I asked, wondering why we should be starting at the Generator.

“Yes, I did, but it is so tough, that we should just do the original route.”

“But the Uni farm shall be muddy and impassible?”

“Better that, than coming back Wangari Maathai hill”

We therefore reverted to the original route that started at the Generator and off we went.  It was an easy run.  It is a route that I have been to many times, over that distance, including earlier in the month.  This is the usual Uthiru to Kabete Polytechnic, then cross the Waiyaki way to Ndumboini.  From there we were to run down Kapenguria road past Wangari Maathai Institute, all the way to Lower Kabete road.  We would then turn left and run about one kilometre to then turn left towards Mary Leakey school, then the University farm, then emerge at the tank to get to Kanyariri tarmac.  We would then turn right on the tarmac and run to Kanyariri centre for another right all the way to the Gitaru-Wangire road junction, then do a U-turn to run back to Uthiru.  I did not expect any surprises, but… spoke too soon!

When we go to the Uni farm section we were met with our worst fears.  The route did not disappoint!  It was impassably muddy!  I had to reduce my run to a walking pace to enable me traverse most of the sections.  I almost slipped and fell at some of the sections.  Edu was somewhere behind as I could decipher his footsteps in the quietness of the farm section.

We finally emerged at the tank and joined Kanyariri road tarmac.  It was then a smooth run all the way to Gitaru-Wangige underpass where we did our U-turn on the 13k mark, and then ran back all the way to our starting point at the Generator.  I stopped my timer with a reading of 24.03km in 2:36:43.  The first IKM International marathon, the very first group run of 2022, was now done.  We had proved that it was possible to resume our marathons, despite the various hiccups that came our way. 

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 2, 2022

End of corona? Really!

End of corona? Really!

I had decided to take a day off work and was just indoors on this Friday, yesterday.  To say that I was doing nothing on this rest day would be an understatement.  I was calculating voltage drops and lengths of electrical cables for a project that is now occupying my time, which should make me a titled man someday, but more on that anecdote later.

The quietness of the house was unmistakable on this Friday.  You could hear a pin drop.  I would occasionally make out some sounds like the house girls around the block doing a jig or two outside the corridor of this first floor apartment.  That laughter and a collection of muffled sounds would soon end and the eerie silence would be back.

The sounds of the engines of motorbikes that would otherwise disturb the peace of the day were unmistakably missing.  I had earlier in the morning passed by the supermarket that is just on my doorstep and had heard an inkling of why this was so.

“Kim anapishana na makarau,” a lady attendant was telling one of the gents who does packing of items in that mart.

“Kwani?,” the guy had gestured, looking in her direction, and momentarily looking through the entrance.

“Wanataka kachukua nduthi yake, na ana waambia haana!,” she updated him, loudly, for the benefit.

“Uongo!”

“Si unajua Kim ameficha nduthi, ndio ana waambia haana!”

This story hit home immediately.  You must be a non-Kenyan resident or citizen to fail to know that motorbikes have had a bad week.  It started by a video clip that made rounds online four days after the fact.  The video shows a short fifteen second clip of some lady screaming while strapped on a car seat, while a mob is tearing into her car, keys and self.  It was ugly!

An explanation note on the Twitter message that accompanied the video indicated that motorbike mobs were molesting the lady for having knocked one of their own, and attempting to flee the scene at Forest road in Nairobi.  The video had caused a national outcry, especially that it was emerging on International Women’s Day, and going against the very grain of the celebrations of the spirit of equality and dignity.  Even the president of the republic made reference to that video during his address on the IWD day… and that is when trouble started for the motorbike people.

A national swoop was initiated and the mob of motorbike operators were reminded to comply with rules that they had largely ignored in every attempt to enforce them in the past.  The rules include asking them to be registered in savings and credit cooperatives (SACCO), having reflector jackets with the group’s name and generally being on self-regulation.  These were best practice rules, but they had since caused a strike by the motorbike operators, a blockage of Thika road by the same mob… and had even caused this crackdown on all motorbikes that were non-compliant.

Now I knew why the motorbike noises were missing from the air.  The environment was so cool for my ‘vee equals ai ar’ calculations… until three, when another stir of excitement disturbed the quiet afternoon.  I could hear the block-folks talk animatedly from somewhere outside the house, possibly on the verandah or the wide parking yard downstairs.

“Imagine hakuna cha mask tena!  Ayi, nilikuwa nimechoka!,” some loudmouth said.  I was two closed doors away, but the statement did permeate.

“Aki Gresi usinikumbushe!  Hakuna cha masks tena!  Gava ime abolish hiyo mambo Gresi!”

“Joan, Hata sijui nifanyaje ku-celebrate!”

Wait the hech a minute!  What is this excitement all about?  No more masking, did they say?

Only one way to find out.  A few clicks on the keyboard and it turned out to be true that the Government of Kenya had (finally) officially revoked the requirement for putting on masks at public places.  People were now free to operate without masks at all public places without fear (or favour) of being arrested.

But wait again, for another minute!  Hadn’t they made this very announcement already? No, they hadn’t.  The last excitement was the abolition of the ten to four curfew in October 2021, but that same abolition did away with masking, didn’t it?  I am sure it did, since from that day corona ended and masking became optional, largely ignored and was more of the exception than the norm.

So, the announcement that it had finally been dropped did not even make a difference nor sense.  This is something that had already been dropped five months ago.  It was just being formalized now.  And is corona even a thing anymore?  465,132,541 infections and 6,060,378 deaths* later and this pandemic has generally turned into an epidemic that we just have to live with.  Kenya has decided to make this live-with-it decision when the numbers are 323171 and 5644 respectively.  Thank the vaccines for that, or what else can we attribute this to?

*source: worldometers

It could be that our focus has moved on to other things.  Maybe it was even the Ukraine war that started ten days ago that made corona lose its glory.  The war that start when Russia promised not to invade, but still did.  This bluff caught the world unawares.  I was one of the people who took the view that invading Ukraine made no sense and hence it could not be possible.  I woke up ten days ago and the pictures on AJZ were clear, as Russian tanks started infiltrating the Ukrainian borders from the south, east and north – the very places where Russia had been conducting military drills, which was now being turned into a practical.

This event put corona on the ‘can wait’ tray, as the world was caught off guard with an impossible situation.  The only thing that was on the table was imposition of sanctions since directly attacking Russia had not been contemplated.  However, just like invading Ukraine did not make sense, something else that does not make sense at the moment can just happen and it becomes – what shall be shall be.

So, as we celebrate the end of corona, forced by other issues that are taking centre stage, let us try to make sense of everything that is happening, if this is even possible.  While at it, make sense of this one – I participated in a democratic election today, where we had to pick one of two candidates… and the votes were 101 against 100.  How democratic can that be?  If you think that is democratic, then you have not heard about the other one that I participated in earlier in the week.  That one had someone with 250 votes being dropped in favour of another with 200 votes – so as to comply with a regional balancing clause.  How is that even possible?  I told you – things no longer make sense.  Live with it!

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 12, 2022

Running falsely – is it worth it?

Running falsely – is it worth it?

Yesterday was a memorable Friday.  I left Uthiru at one, got a matatu to Kawangware, and then another one to Adams Arcade.  I had not even settled and taken a breath when I was called into the dental room.  I was ushered straight to the reclining seat that I am now so used to.  There was no time for niceties.  I appreciate that DSes are busy people.  Additionally, I do not like anything that starts with ‘dent’ and I try to give such the minimum of the minimum time available.

I had already seen that dental crown for the few seconds that I had, before being ushered onto the recliner.  It looked so real!  That premolar ‘imposter’ was almost like the real thing.  It had been shaped like a real, had the colour of a real and even had the hardness of a real one when I touched it briefly.

“Let us fix him in there,” the DS said as he probably pointed at the crown, and waved in my direction in my recliner.  I could not see much from my semi-sleeping position.  I was already having on my face that large pair of goggles that I loathe.  Of course, I got to appreciate them soon, when water splatter and some flying debris from all manner of dental works started flying about.

I was now used to this dental chair, in this very room for the last five months.  I had started this in early October 2021.  I was finally ending in in March 2022.  I had second guessed my decision to get this prosthetic into my mouth to fill that gap on the lower jaw, the gap that had been there for over twenty-years with no effect at all.  I was comfortable with that gap as was, after all, it was these same DSes that extracted a premolar from that very spot, when they claimed that it was of no use, rotten, they called it.  Why did they want that gap now filled, when it is them who wanted it created?

The same DSes had now changed their narrative and told me that if that gap remained open, then the upper premolar would progressively grow longer and get into that gap.  This was surely impossible.  The gap had reduced in size as a result of the neighbouring teeth filling it up over time, though the gap still remained.  The upper tooth had grown longer than the rest, but with just a manageable bit, not as exaggerated as the dental surgeons, DSes, were stating.  Anyway, they are the experts.

The discussion to get that gap filled started earlier in 2021.  October just happened to be decision time.  I went for it.  It was more of I had no choice based on the Armageddon that the DSes had promised if that gap stayed for a day longer than October.  It is then that the procedure started.  That is when the implant was drilled into my jawbone in that three-hour operation.  This is already in the public domain, so let me not remind myself of it.

Five months later and here I was on this Friday, finishing what I had started.  A was paying up an instalment of almost 50k in each of those months, all from my pocket, after the insurance had declared such an important treatment as ‘cosmetic’, despite this being something that would be spelling doom to my life.  How can something that affects your life adversely, in the opinion of those who have our lives in their hands, be considered ‘cosmetic’?

Soon the temporary cap that had been affixed on the gum of that gap was unscrewed and the implanted screw exposed.  It was not long before that crown, with a hole brought it, was affixed onto the implanted screw.  A small wrench was fixed onto the small groove on the crown and this fixed the crown into position.  Finally, that groove through the artificial tooth was filled up with some materials, which I just heard them ‘mix it up’, ‘fix the primer’, ‘UV it up’.

Just when I thought they were through and….

“Try to close your mouth and try fit your jaws together,” the doc said.

I tried.

The jaws did not fit!

I could feel the very high level of the prosthesis preventing my already lowered upper premolar from settling onto the lower jaw.  I did not know that the upper and lower jaws have a natural comfortable resting position!  

“I feel a hard thing in the mouth,” I responded.

“OK, let me see,” he tried seeing.

“Bite on this, and move your jaws in a chewing motion,” he continued, after fixing something like a piece of paper into my mouth, on that right side next to the now filled-up gap.

A series of grinding sounds would soon follow.  Each grinding sound would then be followed by that chewing on paper thing, then another examination of that paper, then another round of grinding.  Four repetitions later and, “It is almost comfortable,” I said.

“One more time,” he said, “Get me the diamond,” he instructed the nurse aid.

The nurse gave him something that I did not see.

“This is when we usually need such,” he told the nurse in a manner of education, as he proceeded to fix something to one of the gadgets, but I could not see the motions from my reclined position, which was now completely flat – and I hate flat!

Another round of grinding of both the upper tooth and the new lower crown followed.  When it was done, I did the last chewing motion and all was just about well.  Not exactly OK, since I still felt that something new and hard was in my mouth.  It did not feel like a tooth, more like a piece of stone in my mouth.  The upper tooth was still hitting that new tooth and responding with some uncomfortable knocking sensation.  However, I had to live with it for now.  I just hoped that the strange feeling in the mouth would subside.

Hardly twenty-four hours later and that strange feeling in the mouth is gone!  I hardly feel any new different tooth in the mouth, nor is there a knocking action of the upper tooth onto the lower ceramic.  I feel nothing at all.  I have only experienced a sharp pressure pain once, when I chewed on a tough piece of bone.  Other than that, I am not even sure if there is a new tooth in the mouth.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 5, 2022

Running powerless and Paying for it

Running powerless and Paying for it

I am now used to staying without electric power.  The power fails every other day, albeit for short duration.  However, the power failure has progressively become more prolonged since the national power provider, KPLC, decided to get themselves into a scandal that was compounded with that nearly national power blackout of mid-January.

It is for this reason that I was not surprised at all when there was no power in my house last Thursday evening.  However, this was the ‘discriminative’ type, where some houses in the two-storey apartment have power, while others do not.  It is technically called a phase failure, where one or two of the three power cables becomes faulty.  This means only the houses connected to the faulty line fail to get power while the rest enjoy the goodness of electricity.

The phase failure has been a common occurrence in that plot.  I am not sure if it is only my pad that gets hit, but I can confirm that I tend to feel so, though I have no data to back my feeling.  I only see the times when I am in the dark while the rest of the houses are lit.  Maybe others are equally affected, but I do not know.

I was therefore quite OK with the power fail in my house despite the others houses having power.  I went to bed in the dark and surprisingly woke up in the dark the next morning, Friday.  That was strange.  I am used to such a phase failure being resolved by the next morning.  This one had not been resolved almost twelve hours later.  I left for duty dejected with lots of curses to the power provider, albeit with some hope that the evening would bring in some good tidings.

I was a bit surprised when I came back home around nine in the evening Friday to still find the house dark.  This prolonged power fail was surely setting a wrong record for the power provider.  I was just glad that I did not have a refrigeration equipment, otherwise I would be in a worse situation.  I was however not very surprised, yes, not very surprised.  The power company was capable of anything!  What else can you say of a company that allows a row of high voltage power pylons to collapse to the ground causing that national blackout?  And to blame scrap metal vandals for that national disaster is surely stretching it!

Anyway, I went to bed for a second night with lots of bad feelings for the power company.  I was however convinced that they surely would resolve the phase failure by morning.  Believe it or not, I woke up on Saturday with no power for a third day running!  Something had to give.

I called the caretaker to just confirm that many of us were suffering the power fail.  She usually gets to know of such, and on some occasions, I have heard her over my earshot talking about the failure and stating to whoever that she had called Kenya Power about it.

The caretaker was surprised that I did not have power, since there was no power problem at all in the last week.  Her first question was, “Umelipa kweli?”

I had not even imagined that I could be asked that question.  I had not even thought that the power fail could be a power cut.  I had not even thought of thinking along these lines.  I did not even want to take that line of thinking on this Saturday morning.

Of course I had paid, in advance.  I pay the bill on the date of issuance of the bill, two weeks before the due date.  I even I have a budget tracker that ensures that the power bill item remains glowing on the list until it is paid and ticked off.

“Kuna watu wa pawa walikuja kukata stima juzi, lazima walikata yako.  Kweli ulilipa?,” she reconfirmed.

I started to even doubt whether I had really paid up that bill.  Did the Njanuary month of 60-days get into me to the extent of not remembering to pay?  Did my budget tracker do a number on me?  Was it the December bill that I actually did pay and not this one?  I asked myself quite some questions, even as I spoke on phone.

I soon sent a query to the 977 short message code so that Kenya Power can check the bill against my meter.  And as sure as the earth is flat, I soon got a response that I had all outstanding bills and my account was reading -0.00.

“Phew!,” I exhaled even as I got my sanity back.  I would soon send the same confirmation to the caretaker, since she was in total disbelief herself, that I had paid yet my power had been disconnected.  In fact after getting that message we talked once more on phone and she even used the word “mlevi” while describing whoever was involved.

At that point I had the option of waiting until Monday to sort it out with the power company that made the mistake, hence add another 2 dark days to my bill, or go plan B.  That is when the caretaker told me that she knows someone who knows someone that knows another person who is authorized to reconnect erroneously disconnected meters, “lakini yeye hurudisha stima na thao,” she concluded casually.

“For crying out loud!,” I almost cried out loud!

My last bill was only four hundred shillings and I usually pay about five hundred shillings monthly for that power.  Now I have to pay up double that amount for reconnection caused by a mistake that is not mine!

Long story short, I got my power back the same evening, while my MPESA balance was seriously depleted.  Sometimes you have to do what you have to do, and just pay to Caesar what is his.  Maybe there is even a cartel to disconnect incorrect meters so that we pay up this reconnection fee ‘on the side’.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Feb. 8, 2022

Running into a booster in the wrong right arm

Running into a booster in the wrong right arm

It is exactly one week since this happened.  I have tried to avoid telling the story so that I avoid having egg on my face, but the story is just too compelling to let go, so here goes…

Last week on such a Wednesday I knew that I would be getting a corona booster vaccination shot.  This had been made optional to the staff though it has been ‘highly recommended’ provided one had met the boosting conditions.  These conditions were few – basically the last full vaccination shot must have been 6-months prior.  My last one was in July, so I was qualified.  Being a vaccination day, there was no discrimination on whether one was getting a first, second or booster.  It is only the booster that had that stringent 6-month caveat.

Coincidentally, and for purposes of raking in the numbers, we also had a blood/serological camp, where anyone could volunteer to provide blood sample for purposes of testing their antibody response to corona.  Such tests would then confirm prior exposure to the virus and even details as to the effectiveness of the vaccine on the body, including whether the activeness of the vaccine (N-protein levels) was waning over time.

The first twist to this combined camp was that those already vaccinated on that day could not undergo the serology.  That meant that serology had to come first before the vaccination.  I saw a red light just there on how these two camps that were set at the same location would be managed.  Some were coming for one of the two camps, while other staff were coming for both.  The vaccination was a morning only affair, while the blood thing was full day.  The serology involves being taken through a ten-minute questionnaire session, while the vaccination was just a walk-in-walk-out setting.  This combined camp was going to challenge the very core of logistics, patience and perseverance.

I had to do careful calculations to ensure that I attended both.  I needed the blood works since I had travelled to Western Kenya in December and my exposure level to the population in the travels and while there was a bit higher than I would usually encounter.  I could have been exposed to the virus in that sojourn, though I had not felt the effects at all at any point in time.  The closest that I got to feeling ‘virused’ was when I got a chocking cough for about five minutes around January 10, a week after I had come back to the city.  This episode was quickly forgotten and there has never been any other feeling to make be believe I have or have had corona.  But you never know, the double dose of Asta-Zeneca has maybe been my saving grace!  I needed the bloodwork, I told you! The results of previous such works had confirmed no exposure since I took the first such test in July.

I was also a volunteer at the vaccination camp even as I sought this serology thing.  That meant that I had to first deal with the bloodwork then be free to assist in pre-registration of those coming for the vaccinations, then update their records thereafter.  I knew that this day would be different and even easier to manage.  Afterall, I was confident that the online pre-registration of those being vaccinated would make the process seamless.  However, that is not what happened…..

I stayed for over 30-minutes at the serology tent, where they were asking me for the fifth time in monthly intervals the selfsame questions that they had asked before.  Why can’t they develop an online form where I can answer these questions for myself?  Do they trust the interviewer more than the interviewee?

“Have you travelled out of Nairobi for the last one month?”

“Yes”

“Where to?”

I answered

“For how long?”

I answered.

“How many people on average did you interact with?”

For crying out loud!  When will private life become private?

Anyway, l eventually got through and donated my blood for science.  It was just about nine-thirty.  The queue to the serology tent was already long.  The three tents housing those coming for vaccination were also full.  I also had to get myself in the vaccination booth first, if I was to eventually take a seat and do the vaccinee registrations that was soon going to hit us, judging by the number of those seated and waiting.

I got into the vaccination booth and found the nurse and the data person taking tea.  They were gearing up to start.  We are used to having two nurses during such events.  Today there was only one.  I know that the vaccination throughput is usually fast when the process starts, but having only one nurse for this already big population was an overkill.

“I want to the first person getting the shot so that I can move on with registration work,” I told the lady and gent at the tea table.  Those were faces that I had met in the past vaccination camps.  We had some level of familiarity.

“Let me finish the tea, then we can start,” the lady responded, “I just have to mix the vaccines first.”

New info!  The mixing.  Or whatever that meant.  In another five minutes the mix was done, after I had indicated that I was a double AZ vaccinee, to which I she told me that Pfizer Biontech was the boost that I was to get as recommended by the GOK MOH.

I sat next to the vaccination kits on the table spaced at the middle of the booth.  I could see the tea table at the extreme end of the tent.  On my left was the exit position of this square booth.  I had already removed my coat as I knew the procedure as it has become.  I unrolled the sleeve and looked aside as I momentarily felt a prick on the upper arm, then a pressing of a cotton swab on the same place.  The swab was immediately removed and thrown into a medical bin, together with the ‘sharps’ of the syringe and associated items.

“Done, we are now ready to start, you may call them in,” she gestured me out.

I put back my coat and got my laptop from the side table in that booth and walked out.  I left the queue management to another volunteer as I quickly went to one of the four big tents to setup my computer station.  I knew that very soon we would be having an influx of those already vaccinated and in need of an update on the computer system.

I logged into the system and was ready to get the ball rolling.  Obeying the principles of separation of duties, I asked one of my three colleagues to update my vaccination record on her system, promising to return the favour when her time came.

“Your ID number?”

I told her on the next desk

“The vaccination taken?”

“Pfizer”

“Let me see, there are three listed, which one was it?”

I remember being careful to confirm the vaccine batch number when I finished my shot.  The batch would usually be the same for the whole camp setup of the day.

“The middle one on the list, the one starting with N”

“Oh, I see,” she responded, “How about body temperature?”

I remembered that figure from the blood tent, where you also get your vitals taken.

“Done!”

I knew that very soon I would be the one asking people these questions, and it did not take long, since I was soon registering the first, and second and third… and tenth, and eleventh… and thirtieth, and thirty-first… and sixtieth vaccinee on the system.  They were just so many coming for post-registration.  The pre-registration done that we had already filled in two days prior having turned out to be a non-starter hoax!  What a waste of our computing resources and time!  It remained a busy day until at some point I was updating the CEO himself on the system having taking his booster.

We took a lunch break and wrapped up with the last ten or so after the lunch break, upon which time the nurses, who were now two, and the data person from the MOH closed camp and left.  The serology camp continued in the afternoon though our data entry team had already left the ghost tents in the middle of the field.  We had taken one step towards slaying corona, despite the worldwide numbers* being 384M and 5.7M deaths, with Kenyan numbers being 321,671 and 5,593 respectively.

*source: worldometers

I woke up the next day with a pain on my right top arm, just near the shoulder.  I could feel the unmistakable sensation of a needle prick on that right arm.

“Oh emm geee!,” I woke up shouting to myself.  I had been vaccinated on the wrong hand!

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Wednesday, Feb. 2, 2022