Being conned twice in one run… before running gets cancelled anyway

Being conned twice in one run… before running gets cancelled anyway

Nairobi is not called Nairoberry for nothing.  It lived true to its name today, Friday, March 26, 2021, when I was on my way to Adams arcade.  I took the first matatu at Uthiru and things did not seem right from the moment I stepped into that matatu.  We had the usual social-distanced seating, with a free seat between passengers, before that was quickly overlooked, and the vessel was packed full as usual.

It did not take long before my fears were confirmed.  The conductor would momentarily ask passengers for fare, of which I gave out a one-hundred shillings note.  The recipient did not give me back my seventy-shillings, and so I did beckon him to do so.  He proceeded to give me only twenty-shillings then started an animated conversation with some passenger seated behind him, who was in front of my sitting position at the backseat.  I beckoned him a second time and reminded him that he was yet to give me the full amount.

“Najua nina finje yako, siwezi enda na doo zako, manze,” the ruffian in him responded.  

His eyes were bloodshot red.  His hair was shaggy.  I could have judged him for a bad thug, had it not been for the semblance of dark brown overcoat that he had adorned, which is supposed to be the uniform for matatu crew.  And I wish I could have judged him as much…

We would momentarily reach Kawangware, where he alighted even before the matatu came to a stop and somehow disappeared into thin air.  Three passengers started waiting outside the vehicle, in a manner to suggest that we were waiting for something.  It turned out that we were waiting for our cash balances from the conductor.  

We eventually made him out from the large crowd at Kawangware roadside side as he finally came to our standing position.  He gave the first passenger a fifty and the passenger left.  He gave the lady thirty shillings and gave me twenty shillings.

“Fifty!  Nakudai fifty,” I reminded him.  He looked a bit confused.

The lady told him that what she gave her was not her balance, “Bado hazijafika,” she repeated.

The ruffian would then snatch the monies from the palms of our hands and shove a one-hundred shillings note to the lady.  I was still wondering what was going on, before realizing that he had already run off towards the collection and chaos of matatus and people, while shouting just beyond earshot, “Gawaneni hiyo”

I was just starting to be happy that at least we shall only have to divide the hundred between us, on a fifty-fifty basis, problem solved, when a new twist emerged.

“Yangu ilikuwa seventy!,” the lady lamented, looking at the direction of the conductor, who had by now disappeared forever.

This was now a new territory, because my balance was fifty and the lady was claiming seventy, yet the available money was only one-hundred.

“Jameni!  Yangu ilikuwa seventy!  Sasa nitafanyaje?,” she lamented before me.  We were now just standing next to matatus that were coming and going, with all the chaos of passengers and pedestrians in the mix.

“Sawa, nipe tu thirty,” I volunteered to do with the loss to her benefit.

It did not take long before she started wondering where we shall get loose change.  I would have easily asked for change or even got some from my pockets, but the lady was not making any effort to get loose money, nor willing to part with the one-hundred shillings note

“Kaa tu nayo.  Nilikuwa na haraka,” I gave up and walked on, losing my fifty shillings just like that, to the thuggery of the matatu sector.

I walked about one kilometre on Naivasha road to the Kinyanjui road junction stage next to Midhill hospital where I was to take the next vehicle to Adams.  I survived the very chaotic roadside mess called hawkers, matatus and passersby and was glad to be at that stage ready for my next phase of the travel.  I observed the buses and matatus beckoning the few reluctant passengers at that stage, until my time to take the opportunity came.

“Tao foti, tao foti foti!,” the touts chorused.

We stayed put.

“Tao foti, tao foti foti!,” the touts chorused some more.

We continued staying put.  We wanted better.

One of those touts would soon come to my standing position and whisper almost inaudibly to my ear, “Wewe ingia na thati!”

He showed me the door of the bus, and continued the ‘foti, foti’ chant.

It did not take long before the bus was full.  I would then notice the person who had ushered me in start negotiating for his cut with the real conductor at the door of the bus, before he jumped out of the now speeding bus, almost falling in this process of jumping out.

When my turn to pay came, I gave out the thirty shillings in two coins of twenty and ten.  The conductor looked at the money and stayed put, his hand still stretched, “Gari ni foti!”

“But yule jamaa alisema ni thati?”

“Jamaa gani?  Nimi ndio conda.  Ulinisikia nikisema thati?”

I added another ten shillings without much ado.

I would soon be at Adams, would be soon done with my errands and would travel back without much drama on this return journey.  I had not imagined that I would be conned twice in one day by this matatu industry that has no rules.  I had thought it was ‘softiness’ that had led to the junior runner in training, aka WWB junior, when she reported that a tout had refused to give back her change.  I had not imagined that even fully grown people still suffer similar fates.  I had learnt my lessons.  It is never too late to be conned!

I had already forgotten about the morning, and was planning for my next run set for next Monday, when I heard someone speak loudly along the corridor, just outside my office door, for the benefit of all, that,

“Imagine wame ban masports zote!  Hata vitu kama jogging haziko tena!”

What?

What is going on here?

It did not take long before the communique came in through official channels, that the President of the republic of Kenya had just issued new directives aimed at curbing the spread of the corona virus that causes COVID19.  The measures were drastic, many and immediate.  It was true that sporting activities had been banned, with immediate effect.  The country had been zoned into the red zone of Nairobi, Nakuru, Kajiado, Machakos and Kiambu, and non-red zone of the rest of the country.  The red zone was to go into a new 8.00pm to 4.00am curfew from tomorrow, unlike the 10.00pm to 4.00am in the rest of the country.  

But that was not the clincher – the red zone was now under lockdown with movement in and out of that zone prohibited with immediate effect!  Bars had been closed indefinitely, eateries were to open for takeaway only, employers were directed to allow all workers to work from home, schools and colleges were to close unless they offer online classes (apart from examinations which are to continue as planned), meetings had been banned, religious in-person meetings had been stopped with immediate effect!  Some prohibitions were only for the red zone, such as the issue of bars, eateries and religion.  Vehicles were reminded to carry 60% capacity… bringing back memories of my morning experience just when I thought I had forgotten about it.

This was bad!  

This time I am not seeing the runners surviving even their solo runs.  Let me state what that prohibition on sports state, and you be the judge…. all sporting activities are hereby suspended, similarly operations of sporting and recreational facilities including Members Clubs are suspended until it is otherwise directed.

All this due to this thing that we thought was out of limelight.  This corona virus that causes COVID19.  This very corona that has now affected 126,256,838 worldwide with 2,770,139 deaths and 101,847,640 recoveries.  In Kenya, our numbers now stand at 126,170 infections, 2,092 deaths and 91,268 recoveries.  The first lockdown in March of 2020 was met with fear and uncertainty.  It is now exactly one year later, and we are facing another lockdown with fear and uncertainty.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 26, 2021

Running into two motorbike accidents in two runs

Running into two motorbike accidents in two runs

It has not been an easy week for my eyes.  The things that I have seen!  Take Sunday, two days ago for instance.  I was walking from Uthiru to Kawangware with the intention of exercising my legs in readiness for the Monday long run of the next day.  I was immersed in my own world, without a care in the world, as the music played through the earphones, as I walked down the road towards Gathondeki.

At some point on my walk I did think that I had heard some popping sound just as I passed the three or so shops at Gathondeki to my right.  With the earphones on, it was just some pop sound.  My curiosity would see me turn back just in time to see someone rolling on the tarmac.  There was so much to accommodate in the short duration that I had turned back.  A man was for sure rolling along the tarmac and a bag was rolling behind him.  The bag would soon come to a stop behind the rolling person.  I would momentarily see the rolling person come to a stop just besides the tarmac, then see him limp back to pick the bag that was lying in the middle of the tarmac.  

The road was relatively free of traffic at this time of about eleven.  I would then look just in front of the person who was now limping with the bag, and see a motorbike lying besides the road, with the rider also just getting up from the ground.  He also limped out of the heap of the bike and started walking towards the person with the bag.  A crowd was starting to gather.  Vehicles from both sides of the road were coming to a standstill at that point.  

I could not figure out why this happened, since I could not see any other vehicle or bike that could have contributed to this incident in terms of some collision.  I had just witnessed a motorbike bring down both the rider and the passenger.  It was not a pleasant sight, though both users did not seem seriously injured.  That scene would remain with me for some time as I walked along towards Kawangware, and later walked back.

Yesterday was a Monday.  Another day of a long weekly run.  I started the run at 4.15pm on the same route that runs from Uthiru to Gitaru and back, with the twists through the Mary Leakey school and the Uni farm.  The weather was hot but running was a must.  I was tired, but what else is expected of such a run anyway.

I would finally, after 16k of running, do my U-turn at the newly constructed Gitaru-Wangige road at Gitaru and start on my way back.  The way back is generally downhill on Kanyariri road.  The run was generally uneventful.  My tired body really wanted to experience that relief of a rest at the finish line.  I kept pushing myself towards the finish line and really longed for the end of run.

I had just passed Junel school on my right, and the tank, which is the junction towards the Uni farm on my left, when I saw a motorbike approach my run direction.  I did not make much of it since motorbikes and vehicles are common on this part of the road.  However, this particular motorbike seemed to behave strangely.  It was on an uphill climb, while I was heading downhill.  

The bike seemed to start wobbling as it approached a speed bump on the road.  I would be approaching the same bump in less than ten run steps.  And just like that, the bike wobbled dangerously all the way to a fall.  I reached that bump in time to see three men struggle to get up from their fall while the fallen bike constrained their struggle to get up from the ground.  I passed them as they dusted themselves up and laughed over the incident.  They did not seem injured.

This incident remained in my mind until I finished the run about thirty minutes later.  I did not even feel the pain of the twenty-seven ks.  It was the pain of the two motorbike incidences of the past two days that pained me.

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 16, 2021

When running online means ‘running virtually’

When running online means ‘running virtually’

I hardly do any runs over the weekend.  I probably did none in the whole of 2020 – thank Corona for that.  The very corona that had almost 4,813 confirmed cases and 294 deaths on planet earth as at March 11 last year, but now* (March 13, 2021) has afflicted 119,703,834 and killed 2,653,534 globally.  However, I still did manage two weekend runs, being the Kilimanjaro marathon on March 1 and the First Lady marathon in Nairobi on March 8.  After that…. my weekend runs were done.  Corona restrictions, including curfews, masks, social distancing, lockdowns and quarantines ensured that there were no other weekend runs since then.

*worldometers data

It is now one year later, and life has changed so much until I do not expect any more surprises in terms of changes that come about.  One of the changes that has changed our way of life is this new way of conducting meetings, due to social distancing and restrictions on maximum number at venues.  Previously, we had halls full of people, listening and seeing each other on-their-faces so to speak…. and even sorting each other out, depending on the gravity of the subject matter.  That was last year.  That was then.  Now is now.  The new way of having group meetings is now called ‘virtual’ or ‘online’.  It has its bad and ugly.  It is only good if you are the convener, since you must convene anyway, and this may help you to meet some obligation.  Every other aspect of the meeting relies on the bad and ugly of the reality of online meetings.

I have had many of these online meetings since last year.  They ‘sounded’ strange when I started attending them.  They still do, literally, with sound quality usually being a real issue to contend with.  Internet connectivity and the medium of hosting the meeting plays a big role in this aspect of how the meeting shall ‘sound’.  Additionally, the same online meetings ‘look’ different.  Participants are expected to show the visual of themselves (and surroundings) and it does not take long to see why ‘looks’ can deceive.

How many times have you observed a participant, in full view of hundreds of participants, do ‘things’ on video display that you would not expect, appreciate or even condone in some cases?  From bringing person grooming sessions to our view, to making faces and gestures to the camera.  From dancing around to making the meeting to be a family event, even if it is not meant to be.  And by family event, I do mean family event – from the crying young ones and feeding of the same online, from having family agreements (and disagreements), to letting in the whole family into ‘our business’ in the full glare of the lens.

While the visuals would requires an online participant to be keen so that nothing passes their observing eye, sound on the other hand permeates the air whether you are looking at the screen or not.  The speakers soon start crackling as you start hearing things.  You shall hear all manner of stuff during online meetings.  “Keep your microphones muted” is usually the first rule to be thrown out of the window during online meetings.  I believe people like hearing their own voices to confirm that they can still speak.  And did I even mention the echo that goes on and on when a participant is having full volume on their loudspeakers while the mic is on?  Such participants feel nothing!  To them it is just another day online!  Of course, you are also ‘entitled’ to hear all manner of things during those video moments– just add sound to the above scenarios.

I finally had to run into one such online meeting over a weekend and I was not expecting any less, in terms on what I would expect to see and hear.  The meeting did not disappoint!  It has it all.  Unmuted microphones turned out to be the first culprit from start to end of meeting.  That enable me and others to hear everything going on at the different places of the participants.  This included children playing around and even some livestock making their noises.  The video did not disappoint either!  We saw people make their hair, apply lipstick and on some occasions even dress up.  Did I not tell you that there would be no disappointment?  I just like online meetings!

“Keep your microphone muted” was repeated and repeated but that helped, not.  Those who were keen to keep the mics on, did, those who followed the expected etiquette of keeping them off did.  Life continued as was expected, reminder or no reminder.  People behaving in their own ways without a care in the world.  I do like online meetings…. already!

Another aspect of online meetings that did not disappoint was attending the meeting ‘virtually’ – literally virtually, to mean having the meeting by ‘not being there’.  Isn’t that the meaning of ‘virtually’ anyway?  Being at a place where I could observe two or three other participants in their offices, I was able to observe them switch on their computers and join the meeting alright.  I then saw them leave their offices, never to be seen again, despite the audio of the ongoing meeting coming out of their offices.  They had joined the meeting ‘virtually’… by not being there ‘physically’.

But do not take my word for it.  How do you explain the absence of a participant when they are called upon to respond to an issue during a meeting, before the convener gives that customary ‘sorry, they are not there’, when for sure we can see that their online presence is live and active?  Does it not just mean that they are not there anyway?  And finally, voting online is a fallacy.  The voting tools favor the tech-savvy, being those who are ‘well-connected’ and those with ‘quick hands’.  That is the only way you can vote using online tools with a two-minute time limit.  Apart from that, how do you even restrict people to vote only ‘any two’ out of four, when you have no control over the number of times they can vote?

Finally, though I had already stated my finally above, but this is surely the final ‘finally’.  So, finally, online meetings expect participants to participate by text messages on a forum.  The participants are expected to raise questions that should then be answered by the conveners.  This is where the final rip-off occurs!  The biggest scam since corona is right there!  The organizers of such meetings usually select the issues they are comfortable responding to, and blatantly ignore all the rest of the ‘weighty’ issues, brushing them aside as ‘there are no more issues on the chat box’!  

As we celebrate this new normal of online meetings, let us just be prepared to run them ‘virtually’, if you know what I mean.

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 13, 2021

One year later and the run continues, with or with Corona

One year later and the run continues, with or with Corona

Oh, how time flies!  It was on such a date, March 11, 2020, that the world health organization (WHO) declared the corona virus a global pandemic.  The very corona virus that causes SARS-COVID-2-2019 aka COVID-19.  It did not take long before Kenya shut down most sectors of its economy, starting with a 6.00pm to 5.00am curfew, a ban on social gathering and closure of all learning institutions.  

It got worse when a week later we had a lockdown, where Nairobi and five other towns were locked down from the rest of Kenya, with entry and exit from these towns banned.  Workers were asked to work from home or mostly not at all.  It was a first time in living memory that the world was coming to an end!  It was at this same time that four new concepts were introduced into human vocabularies – social-distancing, face-masking, hand-washing and quarantining.

It was a scary time in our history.  We feared the unknown.  We feared the worst.  We were facing this new virus, causing a new disease that few understood.  We had a new disease that was deadly – a ‘sure’ death sentence if you were to get it, yet, at the same time, only few people were dying from the disease.  What was this contradictory disease?  

Some populace in the globe even started to advance conspiracy theories that this whole thing was some making of some conspiring nations to disrupt the world economy, for some ‘conspiratory’ reasons!  This would lead some people in some parts of the world to do nothing about this virus.  To them, there was no such virus.  Life continued uninterrupted in their world.  Our southern neighbours would take that ‘no corona’ route (with lots of regret one year later).

It was a scary time in our history.  We feared the unknown.  We hid in our houses and armed ourselves with foods and drugs.  We would not go down without a fight.  We would fight the new virus until one of the parties gave up the ghost.  The virus would however win the war and the battle.  Spreading like wildfire, starting from China in December 2019, to the rest of the world.. one infection at a time.

It was a scary time in our history.  We feared the unknown.  We would however learn new lessons with time, though by that time lives had been lost, jobs had been lost and our freedoms were lost.  We were now operating on rules, fear and rumors.  Nonetheless, we were getting to understand the new virus and the new disease.  We started understanding that a good rest aka quarantine was the basic therapy for the new disease – can you imagine that?  Recovering without treatment?  That is was the new disease taught us!  

And therefore, recoveries started becoming many.  Fatalities remained few, stabilizing at a constant rate of 2% of all cases.  There was prediction that Africa would be mostly wiped out by this new disease.  We wondered why us?  Nonetheless, the Armageddon that was to hit Africa would come to pass not.  It would not take long before we had vaccines developed in record time and released for immediate use.  

Humanity was at stake and preservation of life was at the highest of priorities.  Life would just have to come back to normal.  We could not survive without our normal – old normal or new normal – but normal nonetheless.  Lockdowns would be lifted, curfew hours would be shortened, schools would reopen, work from office would resume, life would start having some semblance of normalcy, albeit with the four buzz words remaining firm on our vocabularies…. Social-distancing, face-masking, hand-washing and quarantining.

It was scary during that March 11, 2020 declaration day.  We feared for the end of the world as we know it.  On that date* we had 4,813 confirmed cases and 294 deaths on planet earth.  Mortality rate was 6%, with little or no knowledge on how to manage this new scary virus.  Kenya had zero cases.  One year later**, and the world has now suffered 118,958,711 infections and 2,637,365 deaths, though we also celebrate 94,531,192 recoveries.  This is a 2% mortality rate.  Kenyan numbers are now 111,185 infections, 1,899 deaths and 87,994 recoveries.  We still social-distance, we still face-mask, we still hand-wash and we still quarantine as necessary.  How the world has changed in just one year!

*WHO data

**worldometers data

So, as I remember that Monday run, three days ago, when I was on that Uthiru to Gitaru and back route.  On that very day when I finished the run feeling as fatigued as if I had the corona thing, my only consolation was that I had the four words in my vocabulary keeping me going… social-distancing, face-masking, hand-washing and quarantining (if came to that).  Luckily, it was just a marathoner’s fatigue, since I was back to normalcy hardly one-hour after than 2.19.14 run.  

And anyways, there is no shame in contracting the corona virus.  It can happen.  It does happen.  Even if it does, it comes and goes without much ado in a majority of cases.  Just a forced rest for a period of about two weeks aka quarantine, and then you are good to go.  Therefore, let us celebrate the one-year of scary moments with the comfort that humanity shall always find a way to prevail… however bad things may seem.

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 11, 2021

Give me a break… I am tired

Give me a break… I am tired

I was out for today’s run because it was a Monday, which is a run day, and it was evening, which is the run time.  The weather was sunny and hot.  I was feeling well and the run was expected to be like any other, apart from the heat.  I was scheduled to be on the same good old route that runs from Uthiru to Lower Kabete road via Ndumbo and Kapenguria road.  

Once I get to LK road, I would turn left for the about 1km run then turn another left onto Mary Leakey route and then traverse the University farm.  I would emerge on the other end of the farm by joining the Kanyariri road and turn right to run all the way to Gitaru market and then back on Kanyariri road to Ndumbo and back to Uthiru.  It is a route I have been to many times.  It is the default ‘long run’ route, with a guarantee of 24k, and can be tweaked to anything above that.  I believe that I have seen it all on this good-old, but….

What is it with people having abandoned the use of face masks while in public places?  Did I miss the memo about corona having come to an end?  I still recalled the numbers for the day.  The numbers that are always ‘on your face’ on whichever media platform you use, with or without your consent.  The numbers speak for themselves: 114,870,406 total global confirmed cases, with 2,546,776 deaths.  In Kenya the numbers are 106,125 and 1,859 respectively.  So, what is this denial that there is corona, when the numbers tell a different story?

What is it with people celebrating one million doses of COVID19 vaccines to be received in the country today night, yet these are already reserved for healthcare workers?  I even heard the definition of ‘healthcare workers’ on the news of yesterday and I started wondering if this shall even be enough for them… and we are not talking one, but two shots, eight weeks apart.  That definition included anybody working in the health sectors, not medics, but anybody whom you see working those corridors, offices, clinics and grounds in healthcare.  The target include other non-traditional healthcare facilities such as pharmacies and guarding.  So, what is this celebration all about?

What is it with young people believing that they are immune and that the COVID19 thing is for the elderly like us?  I met lots of school children walking home in the evening.  In singles, in duos, in trios, in quadruplets, in quartets, in quintuplets, in sextuplets, in bigger groups, sometimes blocking my whole route – and none of them had their masks on!  Very few even pretended to have them hang on their chins!  So, does youth mean living in a different world without corona?

All these questioning persisted even as I kept my run and observed the going-ons on my run route.  I was so preoccupied with observations that I did not even know when I did that U-turn at Gitaru, on the junction to the newly constructed Wangige-Gitaru road, and was already on my way back.  It is while taking a sip of water from the 500ml bottles that I had struggled with for over fifteen kilometres, while on the start of the downhill at Gitaru that I realized that I was getting tired.  Though I had started today’s run while on top notch condition, I was slowly degrading into tiredness and it was getting worse with every kilometre.  I was already dreading that Ndumbo hill, though I was still over four kilometres from it.

I managed to get past that hill, and once it was done, I was sure that I would finish the run, since there was no other tougher obstacle ahead.  And, finishing the run I did, about fifteen minutes later.  I collapsed on my seat and eat a medium-sized avocado almost in four scoops.  I would then take a litre of water almost in one gulp.  I was still tired and thirsty even after this.  I however knew that I would recover soon and for sure I was fairly back to normal about three hours later…

Now, it is almost ten, and I am walking home.  Everyone seems to be in a hurry to beat the ten o’clock curfew.  Motorbikes are riding as loud as ever, as they traverse the dark main street at Uthiru.  The street is momentarily lit, when the street light comes back on.  This does not last long, since that lamp post goes off in a moment.  The other posts seem to behave the same.  I walk in the dark, and walk in the light, and I keep going.  Matatus are zooming past in both directions.  There is no way those passengers shall alight at Kawangware or Gitaru before ten, when no one should be on the streets.  I even start wondering whether the curfew was even still on.  Was it revised?  Was it even removed?  Is that the other memo that I missed?

I am just about to get to the Total petrol station on my right, and I am just passing by the Uthiru market-that-never-is, which is also on my right just besides the road that separates us, when this happens…

I have just overtaken some two guys, both of whom seem to be in slippers, as we jostle for space on the side of the road to avoid the speeding motorbikes.  In front, and to my left, is some lady.  I am just about to overtake her and the on/off street lights have decided to be on, just as I overtake her.  The lights enable me to see her form.  She is in some white top and a dark pair of pants.  She seems to be in shoes.  I hear footsteps behind me, in a manner of someone running after me.  I momentarily turn back while continuing my walk.  I notice one of the two guys I had just overtaken taking a sprint after the lady.

It is now almost like the three of us are walking at almost same pace, towards the same direction, next to each other.  I reduce my pace slightly to absorb what is happening.  The guy in shorts and slippers tugs the girl on her right arm.  Those two are now just next to me, on my left.

“Sasa sister, si nikupeleke home!”

The hech! I almost shout.  

What nonsense!  What is going on here?  

I am still taking in the happenings.

The lady looks to her right, on the tugged hand.  She violently pulls off, while observing the person who tugged her, and also at me who is just walking besides.

“Niache!,” she almost screams.

Many things are now going on in my mind.  What if this ruffian calls the friend, who is still behind us, and accost the girl?  After all it is dark enough and everyone is running home.  What would be my reaction?  How about if the ruffians even assume that I am an accomplice to this girl?  What if this, what if that, I am now all over in thought.

“Sister, usiwe hivyo.  Ni kanait kamoja tu!,” the guy in shorts tries, though the lady has now started to walk faster, even now moving in front of us.  She looks back, while still walking,

“Please, I have had a long day.  Niache na shida zangu.  Sitaki mambo yako!”

The tone and the emotion on those words will stay with me for long.  I could feel her pain.  I could feel her disgust at how the world has turned out to be – where you can just be pulled aside and be ‘nighted’, just like that!  Does it mean that a single girl walking the street should just be a target of aggressive behaviour?

I resume my faster pace, even as the lady keeps walking off the tarmac towards the line of shops on my left.  The guy who has just been stood down slows down and waits for his friend to catch up with him.  He momentarily starts hurling obscenities to the already gone lady, ensuring it is loud enough for all and sundry to hear.

I know the meaning of being tired.  I can feel it on my legs even as I walk home.  So, what is it with people not understanding that everyone needs to be given a break when tired!

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 1, 2021

The accidental 42, on the day that I was out

The accidental 42, on the day that I was out

I was not looking forward to this run.  I did not want to do this run.  I was forcing myself into this run.  The reason for the run being that this would be the last opportunity for a long run this week.  The run should have been held on Monday, but nature had its plan for that Monday.  It rained most day and it rained at four-thirty in the evening, just when I should have started the run.  The run had to be cancelled.  I could not do this run on Tuesday, since I already had students lined up for their day of run, which I could not reschedule, nor was I ready to disappoint my loyal students.  

Of course, the students tend to disappoint me and waste some of my evenings – and feel nothing about it.  Take for example that Tuesday, two weeks ago, when I was waiting for student Sharon while she was in a meeting that dragged on until after six.  Then one week ago the same lightning struck twice on similar circumstances.  I was not holding my breath on yesterday’s Tuesday students run.  It was sounding like cancelled.  If anything, Sharon even called to confirm that ‘it was too late for a run’, being just five-ten.

“You are joking, right?,” I spoke to the mouthpiece.

“Si ma-time zime enda sana.  We shall not make it to the tarmac.”

“Forget tarmac.  We only need an hour to make it to the river and back.”

“So, you mean tunaenda?”

“Of course.  The weather is just perfect.  And a new student, Fatuma is joining too.”

“So, for sure tunaenda?  Do I change?”

“Go ahead and change.  Take your time.  Let us meet at the gate starting point at five-thirty.”

That forced run therefore took place and it went well.  The students were happy to have conquered that infamous two-kilometre hill from the river to Ndumbo on our way back.  I was also glad that the third Tuesday had actually materialized.

Come Wednesday, today, and I was on the last possible day to do the run.  Thursdays and Fridays now also belong to students.  My days of free runs are now only on Mondays and Wednesdays.  The run had to be done today… or not at all until next week.

I had already walked 15k, from Kawangware to Waithaka and back to Uthiru, as I went to the Government offices to process some license.  Another ‘here and there’ walks had already taken about 2km already.  And…. Government offices have a reputation for keeping things as ‘ancient’ as they can.  Call it conservation?  I went to an office with an old chair reserved for the occupant.  An equally old wooden seat awaited the single visitor, me in this case.  The desk was some old wooden thing that had now lost balance and outlived its lives.  

Across my seat was a bench, along the wooden interior wall of the iron sheet structure.  The wooden interior was deteriorated in most places, and the external iron sheet wall was visible.  The very iron sheet that was torn at places and I could see the light from external seeping in through the sheet and wood.  The wooden bench was the simple type.  The type that you see in lower primary school (and some churches).  It was old, with cobwebs underneath and looked unstable and uncomfortable.

Behind the officer, on the extreme wall, hardly a metre from her seat, were some files stacked in a pile on some old shelf.  The files looked old, dusty and untouched for ages.  To the left of the officer was a four-drawer metallic cabinet.  It had seen better days.  It was… eh… need I say, old?  It was meant to be locked by some long metallic bar that should run the full height of the cabinet.  That metallic bar was now bent from disuse.  I suspect that at some point the lock was lost and the bar was bent open.  It remained bent since then.

The officer would soon fidget into the second-from-top drawer, which could hardly open quarter way out due to that metallic bar that remained obstructing the drawers.  She finally managed to extract a receipt book, after some long struggle wadding through the dark drawer.  She was just taking a seat when she realized that she did not have a pen.  She started fidgeting into that drawer once more.  Finally, a pen was found and she resumed her seat ready to write.  Alas!  Bad things usually come in doubles and so she realized that the pen was not writing, after trying to scribble endlessly on the paper that I had earlier handed over.  She would soon stand up once more to fidget into that drawer once more.  She found a second pen, took her seat and tried the new pen.  It accepted to write, just accepted to write.

She was just about to start writing the receipt when her cellphone rang.  She would soon be lost into animated discussion with some ‘dadangu’.  They talked, they laughed, I sat waiting.  I know the drill – sit still, do nothing and pretend that you are hearing nothing.  She would attempt to write, while the phone was pinned between her ear and left shoulder.  She wrote and talked – at least she could multitask.  A man could never have been able to achieve such a feat.  But serving two usually means hating one.  The one hated in this occasion turned out to be my receipt, since she would soon write a wrong detail.

“Twenty-twenty-two, not twenty-twenty,” I whispered.

She continued talking while looking at me in a manner of ‘what do you mean?’

I pointed at the receipt, “Twenty-twenty-two, not twenty-twenty,” I repeated the whisper.

She saw the error, even as she kept talking on the phone.  She would momentarily cross the erroneous figure and write the correct figure just alongside.  She continued talking, ‘dadangu’ punctuating every sentence.

I would soon get the receipt stamped, an old wooden stamp, first inked on some old inkpad, then struck hard on the receipt.  That stamping also marked the end of the call, and so I was able to get the receipt plucked from the book, after the carbon paper had been moved to the next receipt on the book.  I got up and left.  Outside the iron sheet structure of an office, which had surely outlived its life, was a more modern building, where several ‘Huduma numbers - collection’ notices had been pasted on walls and windows.  A crowd of mostly young people, mostly men, milled around the door.  Most did not have their face masks.  They chatted animatedly and did not have a care in the world.  The office did not seem to be in a hurry to serve them either.

That is how I ended up walking back to Uthiru, arriving just before two.  I knew that in about two hours I would be out again for the long run.  The very long run that I was not ready for.  The run that I did not look forward to.  The run that I was forced to do on this Wednesday, as the last chance for this run in the week.

It was four before I knew it and I started the run.  My strategy was just to survive until ‘the tank’.  The run would be made or broken when I make that right turn at the tank and start the five-kilometre run on Kanyariri road all the way to Gitaru market.  That was my target.  Get to the tank, try that stretch of uphill and if I managed it, then the run would have been conquered.  I had have been on this route weekly and that make-or-break section remains the M-O-B part.  This is the section that had helped in ‘making’ the time, two weeks ago, when I did the sub-5.  On that day, I was just perfect on this section and was even sprinting when I turned back and was on the downhill back to Ndumbo.  Last week the M-O-B part was not very bad.  My average was just almost the same as that record.  I did a 5min 5 sec average.

Today would be different.  I was tired ab-initio.  I was not going to break any records.  If anything, I was afraid that the M-O-B part would be a ‘B’ today.  Anyway, the run had to be done and I started off well.  My mind was just focused on how I shall feel when I hit the tank, then M-O-B.  That is all that mattered on this Wednesday.

Even COVID-19 cases did not seem to matter on this evening.  I already knew that the worldwide cases were 112M.  112,638,446 to be exact*.  These are just numbers that are forced onto your daily life since everything screams these numbers to you, from radio announcements, news on television, internet web pages tickers on top and bottom of pages, even pop-ups scream these numbers on you daily.  The global fatalities had now hit 2.5M.  2,502,894 to be exact.  Kenya, like the rest of the world was being affected, despite the new normal.  Our numbers were now 104,780 and 1,839 respectively.  

*source: worldometers

It was however no longer all gloom.  Vaccines were already in distribution and in use.  Life shall be back to the ‘old normal’ soon.  This ‘new normal’ was a mistake and should not be allowed to persist for long.  Just look around at how people ‘abuse’ masks and ‘redefine’ social distance, to be convinced that the new normal cannot work.  I would soon start meeting students as I ran down Kapenguria road, the same road section where I had just been with Sharon and Fatuma the previous day.  They did not look like they knew anything called corona existed.  They were not alone.  Most people that I met were taking the ‘new normal’ same as they did the ‘old normal’ – behaving as if nothing had changed.

I kept running, waiting for that M-O-B point, but with nothing to do for about fifty minutes before that point, my mind kept wondering back to how the day had been.  I was taken aback to Kawangware centre.  That place is a mess!  Matatus stop in the middle of the road and take their sweet time to drop, look for and pick passengers.  They block kilometres of traffic on both directions of the road and feel nothing about it.  The roads have now been expanded with pedestrian walkways on each side.  

However, there is no celebration from pedestrians, since these newly paved walkways have now been taken over by the hawkers.  The pedestrians are now back to compete with vehicles on the main roads.  It is a mess I told you!  Impunity of the highest order!  Walking is even faster than being stuck in those traffic jams – but more dangerous, since pedestrians have to walk in the middle of the road and survive the vehicles.  Lo and behold if a cop was to appear!  A matatu would rather run you over than face the cops!  Impunity!

I was still on nostalgia when I finally reached the tank.  I was now going for that right turn on Kanyariri road and would now head generally uphill all the way to Gitaru market.  This was the M-O-B point, leading to the M-O-B section.  Survive this uphill and the run is conquered.  Fail on this and your run is done.  The section was tough as my legs were a bit weak already.  However, I had already survived 10k and another 10k circuit was now doable.  

I was now back to full alertness.  I had been running through the generally deserted roads from Ndumbo down Kapenguria road, through Mary Leakey and the university farm.  That section had less traffic.  The university farm in particular had nobody at all.  It was just runner and road.  It was quiet.  There was no worry or need for alertness.  Now I was back to the fairly busy Kapenguria road.  The many potholes meant that vehicles and motorbikes were jostling for the same ‘good’ road space just like the runners and pedestrians.  All senses had to be alert.  I kept going and the legs kept getting tired with every step.

I finally got to the newly build Gitaru-Wangige road.  That would be my turning point and I would now run back, generally downhill all the way to Ndumbo river.  A final kilometre of uphill to Ndumbo market was now the only obstacle on my way.  The downhill was manageable, but the legs kept getting tired.  I just wished that I would ‘somehow’ finish the run, before I was finished!  I kept getting tired with every step and reduced speed with every kick.  I have never been this tired!

I kept going and would finally, ‘somehow’, reach the finish line.  I was not only collapsing from the tiredness at the finish line, my thirst was overwhelming.  I took a litre of diluted soda, ratio 300ml water to 700ml water.  I took that in almost one gulp.  It did not quench the thirst.  I took two cups of tea soon after – they did not lessen the thirst.  

I took another many cups of water but no additional intake did anything to my thirst.  I was surely ‘finished’ by these walks and runs of this day.  Those 16k of walks of earlier in the day, added to this 26.6k of the evening had just turned out to be a full marathon – and the feeling was the same – tired, thirsty, finished and wishing that you never did the run.  Even the average of 5min 10sec for the run did nothing to brighten the day.  I remained tired, thirsty and finished.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, 24-Feb-2021

Running to get service – My Huduma number story

Running to get service – My Huduma number story

When I queued at the local administrator’s office in Uthiru on that bright April morning, the twenty-sixth to be exact, I was just fulfilling a government directive.  At that time, in 2019, all citizens had been directed to apply for their huduma numbers by June or face the consequence of not accessing government services.  To sweeten the threat, we had been warned that those without the ‘number’ would wish that they had it when the numbers are eventually issued later that year.  I did not want to ‘wish’ and with nothing to lose anyway, I found myself going through the motions of registration.

The registration process was simple enough – fill in a 2-page form with details of all your existing documents, including national ID, NSSF, NHIF, passport, residence, employment, family and then present the form to the attendant for data capture.  After that, the various documents would be scanned, your picture taken, then an acknowledge slip would be issued.  In my case the tablet computer in use even stopped working midway through the process, forcing a reboot of the gadget, followed by a restart of the lengthy process of data capture.  There was no partial and progressive saving of information.  It was an all-or-nothing operation.  However, I finally left the chief’s compound with the thin long strip titled ‘Acknowledgement Slip’.

Then, 2019 came, matured and went.  Life was back to normal and the huduma number thing was soon forgotten.  There was no mention of the cards that should have been issued at the end of year.  I even went on a sojourn to the north pole and back, while the status of huduma remained unknown.  If anything, the year was coming to an end and the only matter of concern was the new ailment being noted in China around December as the year was coming to an end.  By January of 2020, the new ailment that was affecting the respiratory system and starting to kill people was given the name Severe acute respiratory syndrome version 2 corona virus disease of 2019 or ‘SARS-2-COVID19’.

And once it was let loose, the Corona virus started to spread furiously around the world and continued to cause COVID19 in its wake.  It was in the February that the first case was reported in Kenya and the country immediately shut down schools and colleges, and sent learners home in the middle of their school session.  Employees were asked to consider working from home.  A never-before seen curfew was imposed from 6.00pm to next day 5.00am.  We lived in the fear of the unknown most of 2020.  Nairobi would soon be completely shut off from the rest of the counties, with travel to and from the city outlawed.  This was in an effort to contain the spread of the corona virus to just within its borders and prevent the virus from jumping out onto other counties.  By this time, Huduma was out, corona was in.

It was towards July that travel in and out of the city of Nairobi was lifted and people started moving about.  Nighttime curfews remained, though the timing had been moved to nine, and even later to ten, though schools remained shut.  Eateries and bars remained closed for many months, while work from home become the norm.  Some businesses closed forever due to the effects of reduced business hours, supply chain problems, reduced customers and lack of business altogether.  Such business included schools that remained shut since February and retail outlets, such as Tuskys, which would later blame reduced numbers as a cause for its woes.  There was no thinking about it…. Huduma was out, corona was in.

It was not until September that schools and colleges started opening up.  Wearing of face masks continued being a statutory requirement at all public places.  Even runners had to adorn such masks while running on public roads.  Handwashing, hand sanitization and social distancing become buzz words.  Mass events, including religious, political and sporting were postponed or cancelled altogether.  

Even the Standard Chartered Nairobi International marathon that had be held consistently for over 15 years in the month of October had to be cancelled.  Prior to this, the Mater Heart run of May, that was also an over 15-years event had been cancelled.  All major mass events in the international arena were cancelled, including the football leagues and even the Olympic games that had been scheduled for Japan in 2020.  Among the words in the vocabulary at this point in time… Huduma was out, corona was in.

The year 2020 would come to an end with, having started with zero COVID cases, according to official WHO records and ending with 84million worldwide infections.  The year 2020 that had started with zero COVID-19 deaths, would end with 1.8million deaths globally.  The year that started with zero cases in Kenya, would end with 96,614 infections and 1,681 deaths – that included several prominent public figures.  A new disease had just taken root and it was killing 2% of those it infects.  The new disease had forced the closure of several sectors of global economies, including sports, tourism and travel.  Huduma was by now forgotten, corona was in everybody’s way.

The year would also begin with good news in the vaccines front, with new vaccines, developed in record time of under one year, being released for public use to mitigate the corona virus.  Three frontline contenders in the name of Pfizer-BionTec, AstraZeneca and Moderna would have vaccines their vaccines available for distribution and use.  Other vaccines also came up in Russia and China for inoculation against COVID19.  

The year started with a promise of mass vaccinations, though it was a long-way-off promise especially for the continent of Africa.  Even our own country indicated that the vaccines would only be available for prioritized distribution to the critical workforce such as security forces, health workers and teachers, then the elderly and the sick.  This would be the target areas when it lays hands on 24-million vaccine doses anytime from February.  We started living the ‘new normal’, read, ‘living with corona’.  After all, even if the vaccines get home, some people still not it anyway.  Huduma was now completely off the records, while corona was setting the records.

The ‘forgotten’ came knocking when I got that SMS on January 10, 2021…

Dear me, your Huduma Card is ready.  Visit https [link details] to select your pick-up point.  For enquiry call 0800221111. STOP*456*9*5#

“This cannot be true!,” I shouted out loud when I saw this message at almost ten in the night.  

I would forget about it until the next day when I opened up the link details on a computer and for sure found a query form.  There were three questions, requiring one to pick the county from a dropdown list, followed by sub-county, then the collection point.  I ended up selecting KAWANGWARE as the collection point.  

There was no detail on which particular location in Kawangware, but it sounded logical enough as a pickup point.  I submitted the form and got a confirmation that I had successfully updated my pickup address as Kawangware and that my card would be ready for collection within the next 21-days.  The message promised that I would receive yet another SMS notification once the card was available.

I was to have the card on Jan. 31.  I started the waiting.  It was not to be, since I had not yet received any SMS notification by Jan. 31.  I started accepting that this was part of the same old ‘promises unkept’ that had become the huduma story.  

It was not until Feb. 10 that I finally got that SMS… 

Dear me, your Huduma Card S/No: [serial number] has been delivered to NAIROBI-KAWANGWARE Office. For enquiry, call 0800221111

The message did not have anything like ‘come pick it’, nope, it just that stated that the card had been delivered (do what you want).  It was not until yesterday, Friday, Feb. 12 that I decided to look for the Kawangware office and pick my card.  With no indication as to where the office was, I had no choice but to call the Oo-Eight-hundred number to ask for the directions to the collection point.  I was surprised that the number was in operation, as some very polite person on the other end of the line directed me to the District Commissioners office on Naivasha road.

“Remember to carry your original ID, and have the SMS message,” she concluded.

It took some asking around to get to the DC’s office, since it was not strictly on Naivasha road.  It was the Chief’s office that was on Naivasha road.  I had to take a diversion and walk about four hundred metres to the get to the DC’s place.  When there, the printed papers pasted on the walls and windows directed me straight to the collection point.  I only handed over my ID and within a few minutes the attendant was flipping through what looked like one-million cards, tied with rubber bands in bundles of probably one-hundred cards.  I have never seen such many cards!  No wonder there was that news item that Kenyans had ‘refused’ to collect their cards.

I would momentarily be studying the card.  The same that was almost two-years overdue.  The Huduma card is exactly same size as the national ID card – ATM card size.  It replicates the information as exactly as they are on the national ID card.  If anything, the card is even branded as ‘National Identity Card’.  The only difference is that it has a chip, it has not signature… and the photo is coloured.  Make no mistake about this, the Huduma card shall replace the national ID – but do not take my word for it – the government had indicated that intention from day 1.  It is just becoming true before our very eyes.

But it did not take long before I started getting SMSs from entities that should not be having my contact information in the first place…

From Nrbservices… Do you own land in Nairobi? Pay your land rates immediately

I swear that I have never shared my details with Nrb.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Feb. 13, 2021.