Mater Hear Run 2016 - record breaking with a dream

Mater Hear Run 2016 - record breaking with a dream

Top 10
That I was a top 10 finisher in Mater Heart run 2016 is quite something.  I did not plan for it though.  It just happened.  When I woke up at 4.50am to start my morning on this good Saturday May 21st morning, I was in fact contemplating on just doing a walk, instead of a run.  After all, this is not a competitive run.  All participants get a certificate of participation, even if they do not leave the confines of Nyayo stadium when the run starts. 

I was just in the group of first 10 runners who squeezed past the matching brass band to get some space from the human chain setup by G4S guards just behind the band.  This ‘squeezing out’ occurred out of the stadium on Aerodrome road, where I started my stopwatch at 8.05am.  From there I did not look back.  I found myself hitting Mombasa road with the first group of ten and maintained this by Haile Sallasie avenue turnoff.  One athlete overtook me as we started the uphill towards Kenyatta hospital, however, after hitting the gravel for over 6 minutes, he gave up on the hill run and let me run past.  My pace was good.  The weather was good.  It was just a good day for a good run.

There was a final twist as we reached Nyayo stadium to approach the finish.  Instead of getting back to Aerodrome road past the Kenol petrol station and straight to the finish, the organizers decided that we had to run round the outer perimeter of the stadium back to where we started.  This was all good, save for the fact that this is the same road where late starters were found starting the run.  These were the school parties.  This section was full.  I had to almost collide with several children who were not even looking ahead as they started the run.

“Cheki huyo jamaa anamaliza,” a kid said loudly, pointing in my direction.
“Na sisi ndo tuna anza!,” someone among the group filing the tarmac, forcing me to run to the extreme, next to the perimeter fence, said.
I knew what was ahead of them… but did not join them in their conversation.  I left the discovery them, without envy.

I faced a “what the?” moment just a few paces later, when I turned to get to the stadium and found these G4S bouncers forcing all to stop to be frisked (again)!  Who in their right mind obstructs a runner heading to the finish line!
“You can’t be serious!,” I thought of saying.  I did not say.
Momentarily I was at the stadium to do a final lap, clockwise, to the finishing point.  I stopped the timer with a 0.37.18 and distance check of 8.13km.

Finish
It just hit me that I was in the top ten, when I saw some seven or so runners ahead of me, restrained by the barrier, warming down, and kind-of lining up next to someone with a mike.  It did not take me long to observe that he was a member of KTN television crew.  While still absorbing the shock of the moment, the reporter who was interviewing a runner next to me, just cleared with him and moved towards me, mic in hand and made introductory remarks.
“Mimi ni mwana habari wa KTN News na tunapeperusha matangazo ya Mater Heart Run laivu Kenya nzima,” he started.  

I could not see a cameraman anywhere near him.  That gave me the confidence to talk to him.  Who wanted to be beamed Kenyawide (and worldwide, as they claim to have a presence online and in East Africa?).  Isn’t it in the public domain that media can ‘destroy’ even the toughest?
“Hebu nieleze, ni matarisho gani uliyafanya ndiposa ukawa mmoja wa kumi bora kwa mashindano ya mwaka huu?”

After a serious of four of so questions, he let me go as he continued his interviews.  Surprise hit me when I saw the camera man standing about 30m from the point of interview on an elevated platform inside the playing field.

“I saw you on live TV,” that was the first phone call that I got while on my way back from the stadium.
“You can have jokes when you mean to,” was my answer to the caller.  Partly due to the reality check that had now downed on me and partly due to the effects of the Red bull.

But was this really real?  I contemplated how the day turned out as I dozed off in the vehicle, provided by the employer, taking my team back home from the stadium.  I dreamt back to two weeks ago…

Dinner table
“Hebu taste hii nini, eh, hii something.  It tests funny,” Solomon said pushing the cocktail to the centre of the table where six had sat, three on either side, having dinner.
“Not me – I have just taken a Sambuca and it does not mix with that,” Mercy was the first to respond.
“No way!  That and this?,” Jannet pointed to her glass, the bottom lined with things that looked like leaves, “… haiwesmake”
The three on one side of the table had had their say.
On the opposing side, Charles just shook his head in response.
“I don’t do milk,” I said.  This was my observation of this whitish stuff in the cocktail glass.  It has to be.
“Manze, we kunywa hiyo something.  That is how a colada tastes,” Mercy was the final authority.  The rest of us just stared, without experience.

Anyway, everyone had ordered their favourite and there was nobody tasting nobody else’s drink.  Why then did each of us take their sweet time to scrutinize the menu and order?
“Nothing with alcohol,” Solomon had said loudly, in a manner of seeking inputs from those around the table.  We have always known him as a teetotaler and does not say much.  He is the type who can close his ears at the mention of body parts.  It is impossible for him to say some words in the human atlas.

“Manze, tafuta cocktail,” Mercy had started him off.
“Take water!,” was an easy suggestion from yours truly, but seems like water is laced or what? Since this is a suggestion that all frowned at.
“Kunywa a colada.  Manze hiyo ni cocktail ingine poa sana.  I like it myself,” Mercy again.  
All agreed.  In fact, in terms of experience, I believe that she was the most experienced in the world of drinks, having sampled a wide variety.  Some of the people on the table were sworn to some brands that the waiter just serves without asking.

“Basi, colada.  Mimi niletee colada.  Nonalcoholic,” Solomon made his final choice.
“Virgin,” the waiter said.
“What!?,” the six said almost simultaneously, to the shock of the waiter.  
He composed himself and repeated, “Virgin. Virgin colada.”
“Ooohhh.  Si ungesema!  Usiseme ‘virgin’, sema ‘colada’,” Charles offered free advice.
Why again was Solomon offering his drink for tasting?  Is it that we did not have our own drinks?

A la what?
It had been a daylong meeting, with a parked agenda.  It was a real relief to finally break for the day with dinner and a drink.  The dinner, described as ‘a la carte’ did not take long to arrive.  It did, about 30 minutes after ordering.  I was informed that it can be worse, depending on the establishment and what is ordered.  For example, if you order fish, then make sure you can wait for them to fish.  Do not start me on ordering mushrooms.  Thinking about it, is the English language so poor in voc that there is no translation for ‘a la carte’?

We managed to discuss the drinks menu during small talk at this dinner table.  On the page of cocktails: 
‘Dirty Lemonade’ – do they expect you to drink that?
‘Saint and sinners’ – let me just leave it at that, no comment
‘Dawa’ – I like that
‘Kitandani’ – I don’t like that.  Is it meant to knock you down to bed or you should take it while in bed or there is something that I am missing.
‘Virgin colada’ – they explained it as the drink without alcohol.  It has an alcoholic sibling called ‘Pina’
There were others.

Shock was yet to hit us when we reviewed the next page on the cocktails menu.  I cannot even fathom writing anything about them.  Let me leave it at that and let it slip...  No way, the temptation is just too much…
‘Screw driver’ – I will stick to froth!
‘Grenade’ – They can’t be serious.  You can swallow that and live to tell the tale?
‘Screaming O’ – it is x-rated.
‘Slippery N’ – this may not be x, but it is not in the normal day time lingua.

V or P
When the time to settle the bill came, about thirty minutes after Solomon had all of a sudden decided to leave, even offering to give the gals a good night kiss! (shock on us by this offer), we were a bit surprised at the content and final amount.  The amount was a bit higher than we had calculated over time (maybe we were a bit drunk and we could not calculate properly anymore) and the list of items partaken was different from what we had thought we had ordered over time (maybe we were surely drunk, not just a bit).
“Reconfirm this bill,” we beckoned the waiter as we bottomed-up our glasses/bottles, ready to leave.
“Reconfirmed, it is correct!,” was his response.  He did not even move.
“No it is not!,” we started almost at once.  Feeling excited and buoyed by the effect of fermented sugars in our bloodstream.
“We did not order no Pina colada,” Jannet pointed out the receipt to the waiter, “I told you this bill is wrong!,” she looked as excited as someone who had proved a point.
The waiter stepped back and went to the bar to reconfirm.  He looked like one who did not like this apparent defeat.
Five minutes later, “I have confirmed it is correct,” he looked triumphant, like someone having the last laugh, “‘Virgin’ was not available, so we served ‘Pina’ instead”
“OMG!,” we all shouted!!
No wonder Solomon was talking trashy and buoyed like all the rest of us!!!


“Red bull!,” I heard from afar...
Someone shook me as I regained consciousness, “Give these colleagues a Red bull each.  They did not take theirs while at the stadium,” Joan sitting next to me on the van nudged me.
The van had come to a stop and staff were already alighting.  I was back home already.  Dream and reality fighting for prevalence on my mind.

What a Mater Heart run 2016!!

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, May 21, 2016

FLHM 2016 – A good run with a chaotic end

FLHM 2016 – A good run with a chaotic end

Early

I was in town early.  I left the house at 5.30am and walked to the highway.  Being a Sunday, there were few vehicles at the highway, but was lucky to board a matatu at 5.50am that did not waste time on the road.  I disembarked at 6.10am and walked from Odeon towards Kimathi house.  I then walked on Kenyatta Avenue to Nyayo house and joined Uhuru highway all the way to Nyayo.  The roads were already closed from Kenyatta Avenue and the whole of Uhuru highway from Nyayo (house) towards Nyayo (stadium).  A few runners, evident by their running kit, the Tshirt of which had a big portrait of the first lady on the back side, were already enjoying life of the closed road as they headed towards Nyayo.  All of a sudden there was a siren behind me, and before long, a big car almost knocked me off the tarmac.  I was lucky to see a convoy of over ten vehicles negotiate the Haile Selassie roundabout towards Nyayo.

“The road is closed for crying out loud,” I cried out loud!

As I approached the stadium I saw the big cars parked beside the road.  I was in time to hear the flagging off of the 10km wheel chair race, which started at 6.30am prompt.  I still had 30 minutes before my run.  I counted the cars – 14 big cars and 4 limousines – even if it is power!

There were no washrooms around the starting point, so I had to get into the stadium compound, where there were just a few Excloosive portables.  How did they expect to manage the ‘water out’ needs of the expected multitude?  I started sensing some form of impending crisis, but there probably was a plan B.

I hanged around the stadium compound to about 6.50am, when I started making my way to the starting line outside the stadium, on Uhuru highway.  I cannot express my chagrin when I headed to the exit point only to be turned back that it was closed.  This was the nearest exit to the starting line.  I had even used it to get to the stadium less than ten minutes prior.

“So, what gate do we use?,” I asked, as other runners behind me benefited from this query.

“Eh, I don’t know… Maybe…. Eh…,” the unhelpful person responded!

“Sasa nini hii!  You people are so disorganized!,” a lady runner behind me could not hold back.

There was no time to argue.  The only way out was through the entrance gate to the stadium, near the Police post, next to the Basketball court and Swimming pool.  Then one had to make their way back to the starting line – as if going round to just get to where you are from!.  I had to run, with only five minutes remaining.

Watery course

The run just started while I was recovering from the short sprint that I had just done from inside the stadium compound.  The weather was good – cool, no sun, a bit cold.  The start time was new on this course.  I am used to starting at 7.30am.  Of course I started at 7.00am when I was doing the three 42k in 2008-10, but it has been ages since I started a run this early.

The run to city centre, then Kenyatta Avenue to NSSF building was at a good pace.  We turned to get into Uhuru Park and benefited from the first water point at the 3km mark.  This was timely, since immediately after that point was the Upper Hill section that runs from the park all the way to Kenyatta Hospital.  From the hospital back to Nyayo is generally flat, with some mild uphills.  There were about five water points on this Nyayo to Nyayo stretch.  I was at Nyayo in about 43 minutes.  This was to be the 10km point.  Was I that fast?  Were records going to be broken today?

The turn to Mombasa road was something I was expecting.  In fact I even knew its profile.  This would be a 10km circuit, followed by the final 1km to the finish line.  In my mind this was the ‘tarmac’ route, which I have run often when practicing.  It is exactly 10km and a circuit too.  I just tuned myself to the feel and imagination of ‘tarmac’ and just let myself flow.  (Though this route has nothing compared to the hills on the ‘tarmac’).  In five kilometers I faced the extreme turning point, after only two water points.

“Discrimination!,” I thought of shouting.  How do you provide five water points for the first 10k and only two for the last 11k?

“Dip you fingers in the ink!,” someone shouted from ahead, interrupting my mind that was on the ‘tarmac’.

“Make sure you dip your fingers in the ink!,” someone else reminded us?  Yes, reminded us.

I saw about three stretched out basins, with some bluish fluid.  I dipped in my left hand, reluctantly, as I ran to the turning point and started my last 6km back to the stadium.

In this era of timing chips, one of which was surely affixed on my race number 7794, who still dips their hands on ink as proof of adherence to the run circuit!

Since the first lady was running the 10km (could it be that they did not care much about the rest of us to even provide more water points because we were on our own!), the 21km route was relatively uneventful.  Last year there was a continuous stream of security forces all along the route – but that was last year – and she was running the twenty-one thousand meters then.

I reached the stadium just as the first fast 10km runners were finishing off their run that had started at 8.00am.

Though I finished the run and stopped my timer at 1.32.56, the overhead LCD at the finish line was displaying 1.30.50.  On this run, I trust my timer, but miracles still happen that the timing crystal in the watch may have been faster by 2 minutes? – No way, I still trust my timer.  How about the distance – 20.85km.  Well, I still trust my timer – but let us wait for the official results.  The ‘gadget’ provided me with the run stats as follows:

Date – 06-03-2016

Time – 1.32.56

Distance – 20.85km

Speed avg – 13.5 km/h

Speed max – 31.5 km/h

Cal/h avg – 1054 kcal/h

Cal/h max – 2131 kcal/h

Calories – 1633 kcal

Time in zone – 00.23.05

Km01 – 4.35.89

Km02 – 4.16.17

Km03 – 4.17.22

Km04 – 4.43.41

Km05 – 4.57.38

Km06 – 4.40.49

Km07 – 4.16.73

Km08 – 3.58.23

Km09 – 4.20.14

Km10 – 4.24.11

Km11 – 4.28.09

Km12 – 4.29.57

Km13 – 4.08.78

Km14 – 4.21.57

Km15 – 4.32.05

Km16 – 4.29.08

Km17 – 4.28.57

Km18 – 4.33.05

Km19 – 4.26.10

Km20 – 4.48.44

Km21 – 3.41.22

Chaos 1

After the finish line, runners were being directed to the terraces.  No one had an idea why there was a queue at the terraces.  I just joined the queue of sweaty runners.  Another queue formed up, and someone shouted, “Ten kilometers”, in the direction of this second queue.

For some reason, the queue that I was on, the 21km queue, was not moving at all.  After staying on the same spot for some 30 minutes, runners become agitated and started shouting.

“What is going on!,” a chorus shouted.

“Give us certificates on the queue,” some follow-up shouts.

“Give us medals.  To h**l with certificates,” yet others.

I then came to realize that the queue was for medals and certificates.  A first one, since they did not honour the runners last year.  Thinking about it, I deserve two sets, to compensate for last year or…

My thoughts were cut short when a scuffle ensured on the 10km queue.  Water bottles were being thrown in the air while tables and chairs were evidently flattened, from the sound that was coming from that direction, just five meters to my right.  Our own 21km queue got messed up momentarily as people feared for a stampede.  I lady runner stumbled and fell on a table top that had them thrown towards our queue.  A plastic chair rolled following the table and crashed on the legs of those on the 21km queue.

After some hullabaloo, peace was restored and whatever was going on, continued going on.  Meanwhile, there was no movement on our queue, while the crowd of runners kept swelling.  I observed some contributors to the lack of movement – someone was for a second time, reading the runner bibs and recording the numbers on a paper.  He was at the queue and each runner had to find him or vice versa.  What was this for?  First the ink that was never checked and now scribbling numbers on a piece of paper! 

But that was not all – some other lady was putting a tick mark using a felt pen on the runner bibs too.  What the *?.  And to add tiredness to tiredness, after being issued with blank certificates, the calligraphers were just next to the issue desk taking their time to pen down each name, a process that involved one fishing their ID card, to ensure that the right name spelling was captured, then taking their sweet time watching the artists do their thing.  (And I can tell you for free that art takes time!).  Then they had to pay the 50/= fee and in many instances wait for change!  The worst thing you can do at the head of a queue!  Go write the damn certs at home using a biro pen for crying out loud!  (Or at least write on them somewhere miles after the issue desk!  Simple non-common sense!).  All these conspired against us to keep us on the queue forever!

Chaos 2

The peace did not last long, since after this first scuffle, more runners came to join the queue, now that the two major runs were coming to an end and the mid-pace and slow-pace runners were getting to the finish line.  Even the first lady was finishing her run, this being around 9.30am.  I had stood at the same spot for almost one hour!  Things were bad.  This was the most disorganized medal issue point on the planet.  I thought of even giving up on this medal issue thing and going home.

An evidently agitated NYS staffer, in full regalia, started commanding runners around.  He was at the 10km section.

“Songeni nyuma au nisukume nyinyi*,” he said, pointing at the sea of runners on and around the 10km runners queue.  It was more of a 10km runners congregation.  There was no queue at all.  None, I tell you.

(*Move back or I shall push you back)

“You did not run!  We are the runners!  We are tired!  Give us our medals now!,” the crowd roared back.  They did not attempt to move at all.

He stood on something to make his frame more distinct.  He was by then joined by five or six other staffers of NYS.

“You over there, move back!,” he tried to command, while pointing somewhere in the sea.

“Hapana!  Hatusongi.  You did not run!,” came the response.

“Waiguru,” another runner shouted from the crowd, causing momentary laughter.

‘Momentary’ is the word, since the second scuffle ensured when he pushed a runner back.  The other runners surged ahead and almost ran over the contingent from NYS.  No chair or table was left standing.  There was shouts and runs all over.  There was near stampede.  Water bottles were thrown on top of peoples heads again.  There was total confusion!  Blows were exchanged!  There was total chaos!

Somehow, things came back to normal and the situation was calm once more.

Chaos 3

It was now time for our very own 21km to be messed up.  A big crowd just joined from nowhere and we no longer had a queue.  We ended up with a congregation.  Nobody was moving.  Nobody knew what was going on and the agitation was evident.

At some point, there was a semblance of a queue.

“I am not running this event ever,” the runner ahead of me told the air.

“They should have let Standard Chartered marathon organizers take over,” an equally angry athlete responded to the first one.

There was small talk on how Nairobi marathon aka Standard Chartered marathon was miles ahead in organizing such events.  But give credit where due.  The FLHM is trying, being just in the third year while Nairobi marathon has done thirteen.  However, the small talk was not convinced that experience was to blame.  After all, you do not have to experience all instances yourself – you can learn from others – that is what FLHM is currently lacking – the ability to learn from the best.

Chaos 4
“They did not even give us bags!,” someone added to the list of misery.

“Yes,” another one joined in, “Not even a runners guide!  They could not afford to give such a simple booklet!”

“The website did not even show the starting time of the runs!,” someone reminded us.
“TShirts of size Large or XL were also missing.  Imagine they gave me the option to pick either a Small or XXL instead of Large.  Can you imagine?,” someone else shared.
“That's not all,” someone gave a rejoinder, “There were no kits at Nyayo stadium from 24th Feb or even at KICC, yet they had asked runners to collect from 24th”.
“Do not even remind me of the misery,” a runner shared, “I was at Nyayo on 27th but nothing.  Even at KICC there was nothing until 1st”.
“Sikimbii tena.  Never!  Umechoka halafu you queue for one hour!  Sikimbii tena hi mbio ya first lady,” another disappointed runner added.

One and a half hours after finishing my run, I managed to get a blank certificate of participation, signed by Her Excellency.  I also managed to bag my first medal in 2016.

As I walked back to city centre with Mandy, a colleague at the work place, who ran with the first lady on the 10k, we had lots of experiences to share.

What a run!  Would I do this run again?  Maybe one more time, just to see if the medal issue debacle recurs.  It was something worth writing about.

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, March 6, 2016

Running with Valentine

Running with Valentine

Night
It is nine in the night.  I am glad the day has ended.  I still see reminders of the day that should end in a hurry.  Someone is still selling something on the roadside, illuminated by the tall post of the street light that he stands underneath.  I see what he is selling – I hear what he is selling…
“Maua, maua, za mwisho! Soo soo, kila moja,” he beckons.
Two passersby stop by the piece of sack that is holding the merchandise…
“Kadi, kadi, za mwisho! Finje, finje!,” he continues, encouraged.

I pass by to notice the spread.  A few cards, predominantly red.  A few flowers – obviously artificial, red.  It is night for crying out loud!  Shouldn’t the red day have ended by now!

Later on, I ponder over this red day and wonder what it is all about.

Sunday
My day started late, when I woke up at nine.  Being a Sunday, there was nothing much to do – just some cleaning, some black tea (that cannot be breakfast) and some Nigerian movie on AMC.  I watch especially being a Sunday, since most of the over one hundred channels on the digital tend to have one theme only – forgetting that some folks have their church day on any other day.

I left for the workplace to do some reading.  Passing by the roundabout I noted the vast display of red that jolted me back to reality.  What is this obsession with red?

At the workplace I found a paper that I remember leaving on my desk on Friday, for later reading.  The employer had set out some red day questions for its staff.  These were asked during the usually weekly Friday staff meeting, where announcements are made as staff partake a cup of tea.  The winners of the different gender categories won meal vouchers at some city joints.  I missed the session, as I was seeing red, but I got to see the questions list.

Discrimination
For the gents: 
Q1 - Which month is Valentine’s Day?  (Surely!  I know that menfolk have bad memories but that question is hitting below there.)
Ok, Q2 - What date is it?  (Aiaya yaya yaya yai!)
Q3 - How to you spell 14th.  (No comment on this)
Q4 - What colour is popular? (This is at least the first real question, knowing that menfolk are colourblind and all). 

Let me not be so hard on the sons of Adam and leave the other six questions on the list.  Turning to the daughters of Eve:
Q1 – In which play did Shakespeare mention St. Valentine? (You see the difference between Gents and Ladies questions?  Discrimination!  I shout to myself in the office – Thank heavens it is a Sunday and no one is around to check out the shout)
Q2 – Who is Valentine’s Day names after? (Discrimination!!)
Q3 – Where was the first Valentine’s Day card sent from? (Discrimination!  I told you!!)

I leave the other two, since I cannot allow this to continue!

I retired for bed around mid-night on Sunday, after keeping my work stuff on the red athletes bag ready for next day (that colour is crimson, not red).  Putting a side my red sweat shirt (that is surely scarlet, not red), and confirming that my red stripped ID is set on the table ready for next morning (that I know for sure, the stripe is burgundy, not red)

Just another year, another February 14th and another Valentine’s day – gone.

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, February 15, 2016

Reviewing 2015, with a Certificate

Reviewing 2015, with a Certificate

The certificates are out – 1.36.46 is the official time for my 21km run at Nairobi Marathon 2015 held in October.  The gadget had given me a 1.36.55.  That means that I can now trust the gadget for my runs going forward.  It reminds me of the run in that I recently had with a local school administration.  We had gone for a fund raiser, where we were urged to donate, “kwa moyo mchungufu”.  By that time, a 30k-per-student had been imposed as ‘compulsory-voluntary’ contribution for school building projects.  Another voluntary contribution of a ‘one-off’ 35k that every student ‘must’ pay was included in the fee structure for 2016.  I do not mind building schools, or any other development project for that matter.  It is the trickery they use to get the fund raising going that gets to me.  Why can’t they just be forthright and state that, “the budget for construction of a new block is this much and we need to get the money from the students” – straight!

Straight
Talking about straight, the year is coming to an end and I need to set the record straight as far as my 2015 runs are concerned.  Let me revisit the first lady’s marathon in March – Sunday, the eighth to be precise.  A good run, good weather, but no certificates were forthcoming for so long that I gave up on ever getting one.  My only regret is their ‘strong’ promise of certs immediately after the run.  I can swear that the organizers swore to have the certs ready after the run – why promise what you cannot deliver?.  But the run is for a very worthy cause, hence their breaking of promise is not a big deal.  I also cringe to see a select team of runners parading medals, yet all ordinary runners know that there were no medals on offer!  Liars!  My run time then was a 1.34 to 1.36 range.  Read the blog story as to why I am convinced of this range.  

(Oooppsss!  Spoke too soon!  I have just input my runner no. 1008 on the organizer’s website now, and to my surprise, my certificate is available with an official time of 1.35.04.  I also observe that the next edition (3rd ed.) of the run has already been fixed for Sunday, March 6, 2016.  It is now the time to give it a ‘come-baby-come’, sorry, ‘come-marathon-come’ shout out!)

Then came the Mater Heart Run on Saturday, May 23.  The run that ‘pretends’ to be 10km, yet I know better.  Since when did I run a 10k in 36minutes?  I know that I am fast, but that is stretching it.  Let me honest – that run is 8k or thereabout.  10k – no way!  This is not competitive – just a family fun run to partner with the Mater Hospital as they fund-raise for their corrective heart surgery programme for the young ones.  I finished the run ready to run, but it was all over.  I got a blank cert!  So that I can do the honours!  However, it has no provision for the run duration.  A simple, ‘Certificate of Participation – This is to confirm that _____ participated in the Mater Heart Run held on Saturday, 23rd May 2015 at Nyayo National Stadium, signed For The Mater Heart Run. Thank you’.  It is still blank!

Medals
The next competitive run was the 12th edition of Ndakaini half marathon, held on 12th September.  I know the run edition and the date due to the rhyme in numbers.  I was doing a third attempt… and the run did not disappoint.  It lived up to its expectations as ‘the toughest marathon on planet earth’.  The hills!  Nonetheless, I had a very good run, with the gadget giving me a 1.48.25.  This is the other run where you do not get a cert.  Just forget it.  I had initiated communicate with the organizers about my last two certs, but the email trail grew cold when they promised to ‘get back to me soon’ and never did, despite three reminders.  Just like FLM of March, you do not get a finisher’s medal.  That is why I call it a run with nothing to show.

I cannot believe that I have to do another ‘Oooppsss’!  I am surprised to see that the certs for 2014 and 2015 are on the organizer's website.  I know I have visited that site many times, hence this must be a recent development – and development it is!

The 2014 run cert is elaborate: 
11th UAP Ndakaini Half Marathon held on 13th September 2014
Distance covered – 21km
Overall position – 248
Time – 01.46.36.56

The 2015 cert is...
12th UAP Ndakaini Half Marathon held on 12th September 2015
Distance covered – 21km
signed

Is this a joke or what!  Where is the position?  Where is the time!?  At least the main search page gives me position ‘X’ with a time of ‘0.00.00’ – the fastest run ever, a flash!

And... I am also used to having a rainbow of spelling for my name – the two Ndakaini certs have 4 different names.  

The winner
Finally, the Nairobi International marathon, one of the best organized marathons in this country – they have everything going for them.  In the 13th edition, my 9th participation, I still managed to bag a medal and a certificate – the only run that gives me something to show!  The October run was quite good, apart from the impostor who wanted to claim silver in the 42km run, only to be discovered at the nick of time.  It is his confession that gave him in, otherwise the other ‘evidence’ could not hold.  They accused him of ‘not being sweaty’ after such a long run.  He was also accused of ‘shoes not being dusty’! (surely)!  However, his own confession that he was in financial distress and needed a quick 0.65M to sort his issues out is what saved the day.  Though the winner of the men’s event pounded the tarmac for 2.13.25, while his women’s even counterpart did the distance in 2.29.32, the impostor just sprinted behind the winner from outside the stadium and wanted to claim silver.  The real silver winner would not take that!

It is time to do strategy 2016 – where I had been ‘forced’ to ‘move over’ to the next run, so that I can ‘create space’ for those who want to give the 21km a try.

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, November 19, 2015

Another Nairobi International Marathon, with a dare

Another Nairobi International Marathon, with a dare

Reason
I like the slogan for Nairobi International Marathon – ‘run for a reason’.  It does not tell you the reason.  It asks you to run for the reason that you know yourself.  In 2015 I was doing the 8th International marathon with ‘a reason’ – to finish in 1hr 35min.  (Visit the organizers page and you shall be bombarded by many ‘reasons’ why people shall be running.  From the rational, humorous, to the utter nonsensical – but that it their ‘reason’)

When the institutional bus set off from the work place at 6.05am, on this Sunday, October 25, 2015, I has ‘the reason’ etched in memory.  I had prepared for this, albeit more psychologically than physically.  I knew that I had already done the toughest marathon on earth aka Ndakaini about five weeks prior.  To me, that was preparation enough.  Of course, I tried to do my three runs a week thereafter, but none of these runs were over 13km.  I believe and I am convinced that Ndakaini is the final preparation for Nairobi.  I have done three Ndakainis and I can declare that.  I was now ready.  I had already adorned my runner number 6026 and fixed ‘the gadget’ on the left running shoe.

Security
This year the level was security was higher than previous years.  Sample this, full body search at all designated entrances to the Nyayo stadium… thereafter, a pass through a metal detector, then another body search after the detector.  Triple secure!  We had already disembarked at Nairobi West shopping centre, just on the other side of the stadium, and even taken the pre-event photos by 6.45am.  I was in time to see the start of the 42km that was ‘gunned-off’ at exactly 7.00am (or how do you call a run started by the sound of a gun?).  Or why did the organizer remind the runners, ‘not to be scared’, when the ‘gun goes on’, that is what he said – I was there!

The start of that 42k run did not leave us much time before our own run.  For ‘a reason’, the 21km run, which has always started at 7.30am was started ten minutes earlier.  The reason was the introduction of a new run category, the corporate sponsors run, that was squeezed in at 7.40am, just before the 8.00am 10km run.  The corporate run was a 3km run, generally around the stadium compound.  Qualification was by the amount of donation to the cause, the cut-off was 100k.

Timing
I had a well-planned strategy for doing the 21km in 1hr 35min – just do all the splits (each km) in 4min 30sec, a 13.33km/h average speed.  During practice on the infamous Ndumboini route, hill and all, I usually did a 5min per km average over the 10-13km distance.  Squeezing out 30 seconds from each split would be difficult, but not impossible.  I just needed the willpower, some adrenalin that should come with the tension and excitement… and lots of water.  The weather was perfect.  Not hot, not cold, a bit cool and no sun (until after nine).  

One thing noteworthy about the new route through city streets is the many turns that you have to meander through.  We call it the ‘zigzag’ run.  As you hit the first km, you turn to Haile Sellasie avenue and back.  As you hit the 3km, you turn to Parliament road all the way to Police Hq, and back to Uhuru highway.  We still have the tour of Kenyatta avenue between 5 and 7km, before visiting the University way to emerge around 9km as you now head to Museum Hill.  The hill takes you to the Parklands turning point at 11.5km, then back to Uhuru highway, through Uhuru park (where I now noticed they had introduced a new zigzag), where you exit on the 18km mark to face Upper Hill and back to the stadium on 19km.

Near is far
As you turn to Aerodrome road, you run along the stadium fence, but you are not getting to that stadium yet!  You must run towards Langata road and back towards Uhuru highway, before you finally get back to the stadium – just of the sake of killing the last two kilometers.  I could not hide the urge to look at the time as I did the turn on 20km mark – 1hr 31min.  That meant running the last very tired kilometer in 4mins flat! – Difficult and impossible!

I just wanted to finally get to the stadium and have this run done with.  I liked the new finishing route, which is just a few hundred meters from Uhuru highway turn back.  Previously, you had to run back to almost the 20km mark, before turning back to the stadium at Kenol petrol station.  The new finish was sweater – turn to the stadium just next to the Post Office.  I hit this last stretch with all I had, finally crossing the timing mat at the ‘Finish’ apron in a time of 1.36.55.  So did I run for ‘a reason’?  If the reason was a 1.35?

Numbers
Let me probably examine the culprit in this run, by analyzing the km splits in the course, as per my new timing gadget:
Distance = 21.56km (My gadget says the distance was longer, no wonder!)
Average speed = 13.4km/h (I needed a 13.26km/h, to get my 1.35 run, which I exceeded!)
Max speed = 18.5km/h (Must be at the start or the Parklands section)
Calories average = 1039 kcal/hr
Calories max = 1498 kcal/hr
Calories = 1679 (no wonder I was that tired after the run!)
Time in zone = 00:24’21” (I still do not understand this metric)
Splits per km:
km01 = 04.26, km02 = 04.11, km03 = 04.14, km04 = 04.21, km05 = 04.21, km06 = 04.23
km07 = 04.21, km08 = 04.31, km09 = 04.29, km10 = 04.52, km11 = 04.04, km12 = 04.28
km13 = 04.37, km14 = 04.36, km15 = 04.29, km16 = 04.29, km17 = 04.36, km18 = 04.44
km19 = 05.02, km20 = 04.31, km21 = 04.26, km22 = 02.37

From the data, the outlier is the 05.02 at 19th lap. This is the section from Uhuru park to Upper Hill, past the British High commission and back to the stadium – ‘The hill’.  The preparatory phase on the 18th lap as I headed to ‘the hill’ also messed up my time slightly with a 04.44.  Finally, I still doubt the distance.  The gadget never lies, but that is a story for another day.

Dare
As we celebrated our ‘reasons for running’ with some snaps at the bus, we were already strategizing for 2016.
“The reason why I did 10km,” Zelpha said, “Was because veterans like you are doing 21… and surely we cannot be running the same race!”
I thought about this for a moment.  The full bus, of about twenty had heard that lamentation.  For lack of a better consolation, I had to say something….
“OK, next year I shall move to 42k”
“Count me in on the 21km run then,” she responded in triumph.

It is now four hours since I finished the run.  I am not as tired as Ndakaini.  In fact, I did not even take as much water after the run as I did in Ndakaini (three bottles of three hundred mils, compares to eight).  However, the issue on my mind at the moment is…

Would I dare?  Would I get ‘a reason’ for 42 come 2016?


WWB, Nairobi Kenya, Oct. 25, 2015

Ndakaini 3 – New Route, same route

Ndakaini 3 – New Route, same route

Breaking
“Give me some of that,” I thought I heard that.
“Please give me some of that,” I looked back just in time to see someone point on the ground next to where I was seated.
“Take some,” I gestured, pointing at the meter long stalk.
“Mmmhhh, Aishhhh,” he tried to break a piece, but nothing happened.

I could see the struggle, he was not going to make any headway in his struggle.  While maintaining my sitting position, I took the stalk from him and gave it one jolt on a joint using my right knee.  A node on the third segment that received the bulk of the pressure gave way with just one pressed knee.  I peeled out the final strip from the bigger piece and handed over the now free piece to the stranger.
“Thanks”, he struggled to say, as he lazily, sluggishly, almost absent mindedly walked away.
That was a typical marathoner, a typical Kenyan – a comrade, a fellow athlete, who had survived another Ndakaini run.  

I continued chewing on the sugarcane.  The once full length was about ninety centimeters.  I had already chewed over four segments, each about ten centimetres.  Another three had been given off to my strange comrade.  I still have many more segments to go, so I chewed away, throwing the chaff onto the grass on my feet.  I was enjoying the shady roadside next to the Nairobi Water Reservoir pumping station and main compound.  Through the live fence I could see through to the vast waste mass on the Ndakaini dam – just part of the 3 square kilometers of 70M cubic meters of water.  The very lake that had formed the circuit of the marathon that I had finished some one hour ago.  It was about eleven thirty and the sun was hot!

I chewed away….

The day started when the alarm woke me up at four-fifteen.  The flask that had preserved the hot water from previous night was at the table ready for me to make a quick cup of cocoa.  I slipped into my blue shorts and the Ndakaini branded run Tshirt.  I had already affixed runner number 2003 on the garment the previous night.  These are the 1-2-3 that any seasoned runner knows must be done the night prior.

I woke up the watchman at 4.30am, to open up the gate to enable me leave the apartment block.  I hit the highway five minutes later.  It was pitch dark.  I could see the double headlights of vehicles come close and zoom past.  Matatus were already beckoning passengers that early, though none was ready to leave the stage.  Finally, a completely empty one passed by and noticed my gesturing silhouette.  It braked and reversed to my position.  I jumped in and it zoomed off towards Kangemi.  

After the Kangemi flyover, it stopped, the makanga jumped out and then started beckoning for passengers.  I was there, and I tell you there was no one near the stage.  Who was the makanga calling out for?  Was he serious?  When the clock hit six, after fifteen minutes of waiting, I jumped out, paid the ten bob fare and decided to look around for any other vehicle that would get me out of there.

It was nearly ten minutes before I got the next matatu that dropped me in Westlands, where another matatu took me to town.  An interesting day – running in three matatus already.

Plaza
I had expected the first hired bus to have left Reinsurance Plaza by the time I arrived around six-twenty.  A quick look convinced me that there was hardly a bus.  Last year, the first bus left around six.  This year, there was no bus at 6.30am!  I was starting to wonder is this marathon was take off, and started calling the organizers names for having taken 700/= for transport using false promise when I saw the ‘Double M’ come from the direction of Hilton towards Re-plaza.  No sooner had it stopped than anxious runners jumped in.  There was hardly any time to confirm who had paid or not.  The organizer just asked those in the bus, “Hands up if you did not pay, so that I can get my money and leave.”
Less than four hands were up – it was either true that we had all paid, or… well, runners do not run away with other runners money, so we must all have paid.

We left Nairobi at about 6.40am.  With the roads being relatively clear at this time of the morning, coupled with the smooth Thika road, our drive through to Thika lasted about thirty minutes.  We diverted towards Gatanga town, off Thika road at Thika town and drove for another forty minutes.  It was almost eight as we reached Ndakaini.  I jumped out of the bus, as it sought a parking space.  I jogged towards the starting lineup, which was almost one kilometer away, past Ndakaini shopping centre.

Move back
The runners had already started gathering.  They were already eager to start the run.  An helicopter was already hovering past the venue.  There was some warm up ongoing.  Same script, different players as the following was announced (one year later?)
“Tafadhali, songeni nyuma.  Please move back, otherwise we shall not start the run”
“Hatusongi!,” the runners roared back.
“About turn everybody!,” the announcer said, his voice amplified by the multimedia truck parked just beside the road, next to the starting point.
“OK, turn back.  About-turn.  By the left quick match… left, right, left, right… Please move back!”
“Hatusongi! ,” runners responded, “Start the run now!  We are not moving!”
“The run is long, please move back so that we can start!”
I wonder why they waste their breath making this announcement year in, year out!

Strategy
At 8.30am there was something like a pop.  Then there was a shout!  Then the run started.  I was hardly ready for the start.  It just happened and off the runners went.  I had a new strategy for this particular run.  I wanted to test the timing gadget so that I can be sure of how much time it takes to get this run done with.  I had studied the counter more keenly this time round.  I knew that there were nine hilly sections, with hill number nine being the last and toughest, with a 1.5km stretch on a 45 degrees elevation.  I just wanted to time and survive that last hill.

With this in mind, I hardly noticed any of the previous eight hills.  I was having a good pace and could remember hitting the 5k to get the first water point before breaking any sweat.  There were no sponges at the first sponge station on the 7.5km mark – but no big deal.  There would be others.  By the second water point at 10km, just after that first ‘bad’ hill, I was still good and enjoying the run.  I missed sponges, once more, on the 12.5km mark.  It was not my day, but with water at hand, I was still good to go.

Unending hill
The water station at 15km convinced me that the run was about done.  I just had to survive a 7km hill to the finishing point.  The sponge station soon after could not have come at a better time.  I snatched one from the roadside, quickly washed off my face and head, threw it away and continued my run.  The 300ml water bottle, hardly sipped on one hand and the cellphone on the other was starting to feel so heavy.  I could have thrown away the water, but I needed loads on both hands for the balance.

I thought too soon, since immediately after hitting the descent on the 17km mark, I immediately realized the arrival of hill no. 9.  I usually know it by seeing it – it is just a 45 degrees uphill that is just there.  You can see it and you cannot escape from it.  It is just there, quiet and waiting.  I found a group of running just walking.  It is not a hill that you dare run, unless you are a runner.  I was a runner, so I kept trudging on – slow, painful steps, but kept going.  I like this hill – it gives you a short break of about ten meters, after the initial 800m, then you face the next 700m of steep hill.  A hill that is still waiting for you!

At the end of the 1500m, at the very top of the hill, there is a crowd waiting.  They cheer you on, whether you are walking, running or crawling.  However, once you get to the top, you just make an immediately left turn to signal the end of your misery.  From there you just face two mild hills to land you on the 20km mark for the last water station.  Take your 300ml at this station and you can even afford to walk to the finish line.  However, runners do not walk, hence you just keep going until the end.  This marathon also had a new route, the start and ending were both on the main tarmac.  Previous runs started at the main road at the shopping centre and ended at the Primary School past the shopping centre.

12-Sep-2015 <> 1.48.25 – that was my time.  I had recorded quite some interesting paces for the 21km laps that make the marathon. 
Distance = 21.14km (it was longer)
Average speed = 11.7km/h (I hoped to hit 12)
Max speed = 19.6km/h (like!)
Cal/h average = 898kcal/h
Cal/h max = 1596kcal/h (that's big!)

Calories = 1623kcal

Time in zone = 0.39.54 (this, am not sure of)

Laps: 

km1@4.17, km2@4.20, km3@4.00, km4@4.12, 

km5@4.56, km6@5.29, km7@5.19, km8@4.53, 

km9@5.27, km10@4.40, km11@6.07, km12@4.27,

km13@5.59, km14@5.11, km15@4.59, km16@5.15,

km17@7.31, km18@5.59, km19@4.50, km20@4.58,

km21@4.47

Look at that strange lap time at km17!  That hill is a killer!

Thank you gadget – now I know the extent of Ndakaini marathon.  Next year, I can do a real run!

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, September 16, 2015

Four days – four runs… the winner is…

Four days – four runs… the winner is…


Normal
The last two weeks have been busy, specifically the weekend of July 31.  I was not to write this story, but… I was just reminded that I am ‘normal’ and should therefore just do ‘normal’ things, like writing such stories.  This reminder came during an evening call-in show on one of the local radio stations, where they claim to hook up gals with potential mates.  

This particular episode got me off-guard.  On this day, I had to rush the young lady to Aga Khan hospital in a hurry in the evening hours.  She was complaining of a persistent stomachache, which had to be addressed if she was to catch her already booked bus the next day to western Kenya.  I was sharing the taxi with a colleague from out of Africa.  We were not quite concentrating on the radio vibes, but this one got me, it got all the four of us, the driver included.

“Please hook me up with someone else, not a ‘normal’ guy,” the lady on radio said.

The first reaction was a smile, as we, just like the radio presenter, wanted to confirm that we had heard right.

“Yes, someone who is not a normal guy.  I have tried the many Kenyans and it is not working for me, maybe someone who is not Kenyan…. not a normal guy…”


First run
I traveled down coast on a Thursday night, so as to be ready for business the next day.  The Dreamliner, without the final ‘r’ almost lived up to its expectation.  The seats were comfortable, it left on time at 10.45pm, and had fully sealed windows, suggesting that they should not be opened.  The only thing it lacked was a working air-conditioning system.  Ok, it also did not have wifi.  And come to think about it, they only served us a 500ml bottle of plain water.  I expected more - comparatively.  

Somewhere along the 500km run, it was evident that the mechanical system of this 46-seater was not very sound, though it had speed and landed us at seven as per schedule.  With a fare of 1,100, the ride was worth it.  The team of three, Charles, Janet and I, settled at the hotel and got our free time awaiting the evening when Mercy, the fourth team member would just us.  The morning rest was good, the coastal town was not that hot.  If anything, it was temperate, almost akin the Nairobi conditions.

After the lunch break, the water levels were already pushed to the brim.  A walk into the ocean or even a swim was not possible in these conditions.  It was strange that the waters were full as early at three.  The last time I checked, the water would push to the banks after six… but seasons do change.  We therefore just had a relaxed afternoon doing nothing in particular, just hanging around, cold ones at hand until the final team member joined in around six.  A plot was finally hatched up and we found ourselves at the reef hotel reception, joining two other colleagues who were coincidentally in this same city, but on a different mission.

The get-together was great.  The music was good, and severally I found myself on the dance floor.  Danceable music, just the right volume, a mix of mostly African musical servings.  Thumbs up.

Despite what promised to be the best evening, the DJ messed it up by keeping us on one groove for too long that we had to leave the dance floor, mainly in frustration.  Glancing at my watch and reading the time as one made me realize that the DJ’s scheme could have been a way to forcing our exit.  We got the hint and off we went.

Verdict – this was a good run.


Second run
Saturday was a busy day.  It was the day of the main business of the retreat.  After late morning breakfast, we were busy at the meeting room, provided to us exgracia, doing serious thinking and serious discussions.  By late lunch, at two-thirty, we were having our final document done and polished.

After the lunch break, the weather changed for the worse and in no time it was raining.  Getting to the waters was not possible, for a second day running.  What to do?  A new plan had to be crafted… and fast.  After sobering up with some ‘baridis’, we had dinner and left for an unknown destination.  Unknown, because we were relying on the ‘surprise’, from our new host.  

When our hired taxi headed towards Mtwapa, we were left in no doubt as to what was likely to happen and we waited with bated breaths.  We picked our host along the route, after some 10-minutes’ drive.  When he got into the car, loading it to fit four on the back seat, he decided to test the waters to figure out our type, as we later discovered.

“It is good to be saved, this world is headed to the dogs,” he said, somehow in the midst of idle chatter, as the taxi drove along the busy Malindi road, full of matatus.

“True, true,” came the responses.

Later, after some look through the window, he told the driver to pull over and park. 

“We are going here,” he pointed.

We were frisked and upstairs we went.  Double fan, they called it.

The seats were comfy, and the blare was… almost deafening.  The flickering lights were doing a number on our eyes and brains, but the drinks were affordable.  The crowd was young and soon the dance floor would be dominated by one particular dance style.  A girl holds onto the arms of the sofa where I am seated, forcing her b-h to project upwards.  I can just make out her short shorts, opposite my sitting position.  She starts circling the backside, while instinctively, a young man goes towards the now grating region and plants his front side there.  The rubbing begins.

“Mae to miel mane…*,” Tony the musician from the lakeside city of Kisumu asks, while the wild crowd of dancers cheer.   I would live my life of about four hours witnessing this as the main dance.  Whoever invented this bend over thing left little to the imagination.  
*which dance is this?

Later, on reflection, Janet commented that it was possible for a man’s belt to be so charged that it can just poke through, and…
“No one should be blamed if this happened,” she concluded.
On reflection, this is true.

But this was quite a different crowd from yesterday’s.  I could not even hit the dance floor.  This dance and music was just out of my league.  Then again, who in their right minds asks the DJ to ‘rewind and play again’ a simple singing game such as the Mandebele kids – unless they are kids.

Mercy had a reflection of her own, declaring that, “That damsel who was shaking her ssa next to your seat really wanted you to dance with her.  Why didn’t you?”

“Are you serious?  I would rather swim with sharks!”

“Hapana!,” she does not give us, “You could have had 'chips funga' ”

“You have lost it,” I retort, “Chipo is not even my favourite food.  I am an ugali na kuku person to the core.”

Little did I know that the joke was on me, when the other trio just burst laughing, while I remained amazed, stone-face and totally lost on what part of this was funny!

Later, Janet, who know the host, informed us that we were taken to this exact place before we gave our host the impression that we were ‘too saved’ to be taken to alternative places.  Just because we agreed that the world is headed to the kennel?  

Verdict – A run that you can do without, you shall not miss much.


Third run
My decision to book a bus online was the best that I ever did.  By Saturday I was sure that I wanted to travel on Sunday night.  Without much ado, I had booked myself an Oxygen for 10.30pm, paid by MPESA and was booked on the backseat – seat 46 for sixteen hundred.  The three colleagues could not make up their mind as to whether to travel Sunday morning, day time or evening.  They did not know whether to travel by bus or air.  They had indecision on which bus to use.  They ended up not booking anything, and chanced on deciding on their move next day, Sunday morning.

At Sunday breakfast, it was confirmed that there were no more ‘good’ buses left, at least for morning travel.  I was wearing a big smile as the trio decided to travel at night using a less prestigious bus.  Though the morning was rainy, the weather was quite improved by lunch break.  

After lunch we had the opportunity to try the ocean waters.  They were good.  The waters had been pulled back about one kilometer in.  We were able to walk the vast white sands to the shallow waters.  The water was warm and soothing to the feet.  A rub with the white sand was quite invigorating.  It was even claimed that it was medicinal (liars!)

We took a short break around three, to enable us change into swim attire – but this is where things changed for the worst.  Hardly one hour later, around four-thirty, the waters were already violent and full to the shores.  A close observation showed a broken wall on one side of the hotel fence.  The wall on the other side of the gate was surely also going down – it was just a matter of time.  

Just passing down the gate, now gaping with a fallen wall on one side, was a big deal.  The waves were splashing large volumes of water through to the compound.  Stepping out into the waters was becoming an issue.  Finally, we managed to time the waves and somehow get out of the hotel compound to the shore at the neighbouring establishments, which were not that overwhelmed by the waters.

I refused to dip myself in these waters.  They were cold, turbulent and dark.  A contrast to the once warm, quiet and clear waters hardly three hours prior.  Mercy and Janet managed to plunge themselves into the edge of the waves, lifeguard at hand and tube around the waist.  Not me!  

The crowning moment occurred when the two ladies lost their clothes plus two hundred shillings.  These had been left on the sandy shores, mostly within our watch, but somehow they disappeared.  

There were two theorems on what could have happened.  Some lady who had generally been enjoying our company at the shores, stated that the clothes had been washed away.  However, out of four pieces of clothing, only two were lost.. and of course the money.  Additionally, from the position where the material was sitting, inside an inflated tube, that was still intact, well out of the waters at the shore, it was hard to believe that the ocean waves could have picked up these items.  The second and more likely theorem was that someone had pinched the money (and clothes).

We got back to the hotel compound in time to watch the second wall on the left side of the gate fall down into the ocean shore.

In a few hours we would be getting out of this city back to our city.  There was no plan for the evening.  If anything, we had already checked out earlier, with our bags just waiting for us at the reception.  But wait a minute, don’t we have this neighbouring place?  In no time, we were heading big tree-wards.

“Lipa mia mbili,” a voice declared, when we tried to get through to the direction of the music.
“What?”
“Nikulipa… mia mbili”
“For what?”
“Ya entertainment”
“But we just want to take dinner?  Chakula tu, nakutoka”
“Soo mbili,” came the response, hardly looking our direction.

Imagine the reluctance in paying up!?

Into the tent… we find a full family event with both children and adults, all glued to the stage.
“Two hundred my foot!  Robbers!”

We settle down to a free table, only for someone to rush by our side…
“Mia sita,” he declares, with hands stretched in our direction.
“Are you for real?”
We are hesitant.  There is silence.  There is a stare - four pair of eyes against one pair.
“Kukaa hapa ni mia sita”
We are about to say a flat “no way”, when he adds, “Lakini, mweza kula na kunywa mkitumia pesa hizo”

Our resistance if broken, but we are not bulging yet.

“Au mka kae kule kwingine,” he points towards our left, on the same direction as the entrance, where the kids have made a home, same place where there are no seats, where some of the folks are standing.

“Sawa, tutalipa”

We went in when on stage there was a contest on who can outdo the other in eating “sima”, a contest pitting two adults.  Crazy show.  Who pays to watch this!

But there was improvement after the MC declared that, “Watoto wote sasa waende nyumbani.  Show karibu ianze”.

Some music played while the stage remained uneventful for some ten or so minutes.  There is a scuffle, as bouncers forcefully eject a minor from his seat, on the free-side.  

I do a panorama just to see what goes.  Behind me are some raised sitting places.  On the dim light, I can just make out the silhouettes of people sitting.  Just behind me a see a damsel gyrating on the laps of some guy.  I sure hope they are dressed, but I cannot see and hence cannot draw any conclusion.  Anything goes.

A pile of smoke blows from a table just in front of our sitting place, beyond which is just one more table then the slightly raised stage.  This is strange smoke.  It is too dark and voluminous to be coming from a normal pipe, cigar or cigarette.  The smoke envelops the table, creating zero visibility for those glancing at the stage.  The mystery is solved when the smoker reveals a pipe, which on close scrutiny, is affixed to a flask like container.
“Shisha,” Charles volunteers, on seeing my curiosity.

Two soldiers are standing somewhere after the entrance, just to my left, on the same side of the ‘free’ seating.  Each is carrying a Kalachnikov, invented in 1947.  I feel safe, but know that ‘stray’ things happen… but isn’t there possibility that ongoing action can cause someone to just shoot in the air?

We soon have to leave, since it is about nine and by nine thirty the first bus should be leaving.  Mine leaves at ten-thirty.  We shall surely miss out ‘the show’... and are likely to miss the food too.  We had placed our orders some 15-minutes ago, but nothing was doing so far.  Even if it is an ‘hakuna haraka’ treatment… eh, they are pushing it!

The eating and drinks part did not go without drama anyway.  Janet had to summon the manager to her table when it was apparent that the waiter was playing games with the arithmetic… to the waiter’s advantage.  At least this one was not as drunk as the one at the beach hotel, who severally served the wrong drinks to the wrong people on the wrong tables – with no apologies.

As we gear up to leave, the show starts, with, “for a beer, show how you can lay a deaf chick”.  However, things would get worse in fairly a short time, since moments after, it was time to leak ice cream from someone’s belly – all this on stage, before the battle of shake-your-mountains was in the offing.  If this was just the start, how would the mid-show and end-show be?

Verdict – I can only judge this run if I have the opportunity to see the end game.  I would therefore give it a ‘worth a second try’


Final run
The taxi that picked me up at nine-thirty, at this octopus place, near Bamburi, dropped me in Mombasa city centre by 9.45pm.  Let us talk the octopus for a moment.  Which octopus has six tentacles?  That is the exact definition and symbol of the octopus (pweza), as depicted at this place, but this is a mysterious city… anything is possible.

The bus that left Mombasa at 10.30pm on the dot was comfy, with everything that you need on such a journey – air-conditioning, wifi, comfort, even a small pack of apple juice and biscuits to boost.  I may be too choosy, but surely, what happened to the onboard movie?  I saw the screen but it stayed blanked… I am not complaining.

Verdict – one of the best runs ever.


Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, August 15, 2015