When I could not run for no reason at all

When I could not run for no reason at all

I have had a headache since yesterday, Saturday.  It just started when I got up to go to the washroom in the wee hours and persisted since then.  I woke up on Saturday feeling the pain of the headache on my forehead.  I however soldiered on through the door with the hope that that headache would go away.  It occasionally does go away without much persuasion.

However, my head was still aching when I went to bed yesterday.  There was therefore only one way out when I woke up today and the headache had not subsided – I had to visit a medical facility.  The walk from Uthiru to Mountain View for the clinic was laboured.  The hot sun burned my forehead, further aggravating the ache.  I could feel my heartbeat pulsation on the forehead.  Each pumping of the blood was a jolt of pain, but I walked on.

I got to the third-floor clinic and started waiting for my turn to see the doctor.  It did not take me long to start recovering.  I was seated at the waiting area with four other adults, who were evidently in pain, while a toddler or two kept crying due to some discomfort.  If that was what we call being unwell, then I was surely quite OK.

I was in fact just about to think twice over this issue of deciding to visit the medical facility when my name was called, and I found myself at the vitals checkup room.  I have always wondered why the medic at this section asks you about all of your troubles, when you shall still be asked the same with the doc later on.  I did not wonder loudly but went through the motions.  The headache was still there.  I could feel it throbbing with every heartbeat.

I was finally called a second time to see the doc.  I knew how it would go.  It went how it should have gone.  I was referred to the phlebotomist to draw blood for a blood test to determine ‘the thing that is causing you the headache’.

I matched into that room marked ‘Phlebotomy’ and was directed to a seat.  I have drawn blood before, but this was different.

“I am Mary,” the lady started, with a big smile, just after I had taken a seat.

Is this real?  I have never ever been introduced to a phlebo before!  I never thought they were humans!

“Nice to meet you,” I responded, more in surprise that anything else.

“You just sit and relax,” she said, while starting to prepare her tools, which included some cotton swabs, needles and syringes.

“I am known as the vampire!,” she finally said, when all paraphernalia had been set, ready to start on the action on my right arm.

“Vampire, you mean?”

“Yes, I draw bloooooddd!,” she laughed at me, even as she started the venipuncture.

I just had to laugh in response.  I did not see that coming.  Is it only Sundays that medics are friendly or is it Huduma day in practice?

So, we go got chitchatting over dis-and-dat including why diagnosis still relies on drawing of blood and those painful pricks on the veins, all the way to the beauty of working on a Sunday.  While she swore that blood shall remain the source of ‘medical data’ forever, the computer scientist in me knew otherwise.  We shall soon swallow or implant those data reporting transmitters and that is what shall be used to get data out of our bodies.  Puncturing of any nature is coming to an end soon.

The blood action was done as soon as it had started.  If there is a blood work that I have ever enjoyed, then this was it.  Anyway, I would soon be out of that room and start another wait for that final call to see the doc.

When I finally sat next to the doc, more of opposite him of sorts, I knew from his face that things were bad!

“We have checked the blood, and…,” he started.

“Yes, go on, and what did you find?”

“Imagine your blood has revealed nothing out of the ordinary!,” he shrugged in disappointment.

I am not sure why he should have been in distress.  It was music to me!  I hate medical facilities and the medicine that comes out of them.  I was relieved!  My Huduma day was now starting to come alive.  I was prescribed some painkillers, which I believe shall not be getting into my system if for sure I was just OK.

As I walked out of the building and faced the still hot mid-day sun, my head still throbbing mildly painful which each heartbeat, I wondered why I had even made that decision in the morning to come to the medical facility.  It was more of a safe-than-sorry decision, but my gut feeling had been quite against this visit.  That was my instinct.  I had wanted to fight the headache off until it was all gone on its own.  Well, that is still what I now have to do… fight the headache off until it subsides on its own anyway.

Good news for runners like me is that you can know if you are well or not, by just using your ‘run-o-meter’.  I knew from yesterday when I could not attempt to run or walk fast, that I was surely not normal and something was amiss.  Well, one day later and I still cannot run but I am told that nothing is amiss.  Whom should a runner believe?  Their own bodies or the opinions of those outside their bodies!

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Oct. 10, 2021

When you run into a vaccine, do not wait

When you run into a vaccine, do not wait

The notification came in late.  As late as night time during the Easter Monday holiday.  Who even checks official email during the holiday?  And at night for that matter!?

Anyway, that is when the information that there would be a free vaccination camp was disseminated.  It would be held on the very next day, if anything, in just a few hours’ time.  It was a voluntary jab, but it was available… for free.  It was a moment of reflection and decision.  

The official vaccine in Kenya is the Astra-Zeneca release.  The same AZ that had gotten bad publicity in Europe and South Africa, leading to the stoppage of its administration for some time before resumption in Europe, with SA not reusing it thereafter.  The claim against AZ was that there were cases of blood clot manifestation observed on those who had taken it.  The SA people had accused the jab of not being effective at all.

I had followed the story to the conclusion that there was no correlation between the particular jab and the clots.  The clot was just an observation that could be observed on any jab anyway.  The SA twist was due to change of virus variant.  However, that episode had already given AZ a bad nametag.  Even the motherland that had received the first batch of one-million doses had not survived the vaccine hesitancy.  

Many weeks later, since the arrival of the vaccines in early March, and the government was still convincing the seemingly reluctant front-line workers to be vaccinated.  The elderly were also getting reluctant.  A colleague even confessed to me that her elderly mum had said a big ‘No’ when presented with the opportunity for the vaccine.  Her rejection was because she did not ‘trust’ the vaccine, a vaccine, any vaccine.

I had only a few hours to decide whether I shall partake of this jab or not.  The vaccine was surely AZ, as the only free jab authorized for public use in Kenya.  It was a two-shot regime, meaning that once you get into the first jab, then you are stuck in the mix, and must be available for the next jab some four to eight weeks later.  

I had woken up on this decision day Tuesday with a decision to make.  Should I, or should I not?  I kept juggling the dichotomy in my mind for the first hours of the morning.  I would later observe the camp already setup and a few people already on queue.  An ambulance parked next to the tents and the vaccination exercise was surely a real thing.

My decision was made around ten, when I saw myself walk to the vaccination tent.  The decision was partly made due to a ‘friendly reminder’ that the boss had given to his staff.  Telling them that when a vaccine comes your way – whichever the name – so long as it is an approved WHO COVID19 vaccine, then do not even think about it.  Take it! (Ask later).  

I have known the boss with those ‘friendly’ ones.  They usually mean compulsion.  When there is no compulsion then the reminder is usually just a ‘reminder’.  So, when he gave that ‘friendly’ one just last week, I knew that there was no thinking much about this.  This was the direction and I knew that very soon even employment terms of service would have something to do with vaccine-compliance.  I know how these things work.  When cloudy, prepare for rain.

I would soon be registering my name and telephone number on an attendance sheet.  Then I would be soon seated with a social-distanced group of about fifty.  We just sat and waited, not knowing what to expect.  Just ahead was a fully covered tent, with an entrance fleece, and there must have been an exit on the other end, since those who went in did not come out.  

On this front entrance stood a staff who would call two names at a time into the tent.  What was going on there?  I imagined that going through the tent would lead to another ‘proper’ registration process, followed by the vaccine administration somewhere ahead.  I kept waiting.  We kept waiting.  It took about an hour before my name was called to that tent.  I had my temperature taken with a handheld thermo-gun as I got into that tent.

“Keep that temperature, it shall be required later on,” the staffer who had taken the temperature reminded me, even as I took one of the two seats in that tent.  Straight ahead were two medics in white, with two other people seated next to them.  These two people were now just getting up to leave.

I was taken aback, since I was immediately called to that opposite side of this open internal space and asked to take one of those now vacant seats.  The lady in white then proceeded to state that she was about to administer the vaccine and wanted me to roll over my left sleeve.  It was so soon!  So unexpected!  It was it!  These two medics were doing the vaccinations right here and right now on this very tent!  I was not yet ready!  I thought that I would still be getting through the hula-hoops before I ‘finally’ get to the vaccination thing.  

I unrolled my left sleeve as the lady went ahead to prepare whatever she was preparing.  I was not even looking at her actions when I felt nothing on my arm, apart from the piece of cotton that she pressed on the upper outer arm for some five seconds, before throwing it away onto a bin.  I was still seated, when she reminded, “I am done, you can pass through and register your details at the next tent”

That was the most unfelt prick ever!  I would have sworn that she did not even inject the arm, had it not been for the used syringe and needle that I observed her dispose on a bin together with that cotton bud.  I had even felt the arm kind of ‘fill-up’ during the yellow fever jab many years ago, being the last time I had an adulthood injection, but this one, nada!  Having survived the unfelt injection that had come and gone so soon, I was full of relief and ready to join in the chatter that was ongoing on the other side of the vaccination booth.  That ‘other side’ meant for the registrations was full of life.  People must have really ‘enjoyed’ their shots, judging by their moods and high spirits.  Everyone was as jovial as never before.

We would soon face another queue of about fifty as we waited for the people operating the four or so computers on the tables centrally located on the big tent to register us.  The movement along the queue was slow!  But who cares!  The vaccination thing that was taking the world by storm was now already done.  The very AZ vaccine that was under bad publicity and hesitancy was now in my system, our systems.

I was finally seated at the registration desk some thirty minutes or so later.  The details being recorded on the computer system were personal details and those of next of kin, followed by being informed to be ready for the next shot ‘on June 1’.

“Hey, WB, do not leave,” someone drew my attention, just as I was getting up from the registration desk about to exit and leave the camp.

I looked around and saw a familiar face, “We want you to help in the registration.  Sit there and get started,” she pointed to the slot just next to where I had been registered.

I took the seat and faced a registration screen full of blanks.  A staffer of the vaccination team gave me an orientation on how to navigate the screens.  From there on it was a breeze… and this strategy of having many people participate in the registration saved the day.  It was not long before we had cleared the once full tent.  

Having seen the registration system, my only barb to the government was their ‘love’ for data duplication!  We had to re-record everything that is already on the national ID cards!  Wasn’t Huduma number the solution to all these data duplication mess!  Imagine typing the same same info that is on the ID, instead of just querying the central Huduma system to population all these!  

Every re-keying in of data introduces wasted times and the new data is prone to errors, especially telephone numbers, email addresses, spellings of names and even ID numbers being recorded incorrectly.  This Huduma project seemed to have been another ‘ghost’, in the increasing items on the list, though it was a noble project with a good intention.  But do not just take my word for it.  You could have seen the time wasted when we had to confirm and reconfirm details that are already with the government central database anyway.

Whether there is vaccine hesitancy or not shall remain to be seen.  Maybe I was just at a vaccine ‘friendly’ camp, since the doses claimed to be four-hundred would soon be finished even before the expected four-o’clock closure… with many more people still queueing.  With global COVID19* infections standing at 132,800,387 with 2,878,681 deaths, with Kenyan numbers being 139,842 and 2,258 respectively, it is a no-brainer that ‘anything that helps’ is better than nothing.  And that ‘anything’ is the COVID19 vaccine, be it AZ, Johnsons and Johnsons, Pfizer-Biontech or Moderna.  

*source: worldometers website

Even Sputnik V, already available in some Kenyan private medical facilities ‘for emergency use’ should be taken wholehearted within a second thought.  Even our southern neighbour, TZ, under a new leader has now acknowledged that ‘uviko-kumi-na-tisa’ is a real thing and any tools in our arsenal to conquer corona is one more conquest for humanity.  The speech of the new leader even elicited praise from the citizens, as I saw on that news ticker at the bottom of TBC news… ‘wananchi waifagilia hotuba ya rais…’  This was a complete U-turn from the denial tendencies that had been the modus operandi of our southern neighbour for long.

Vaccines have and have always had debates, issues, pros, cons and theories of conspiracy.  I would join the boss in a ‘friendly’ persuasion for those who are still hesitant.  The vaccine may not prevent you from contacting the corona virus and getting COVID19.  However, you have almost a guarantee that you shall not suffer adverse effects that would usually call for hospitalization need the related complications that can include the need for induced oxygen intake and ventilator life support.  The vaccine shall enable you just probably experience mild COVID19 symptoms and survive at home, without much ado, should you be unfortunate to contract the corona virus.  The choice remains yours but… when you run into the vaccine, do not wait, go for it.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, April 6, 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.

When Thursday is Friday

When Thursday is Friday

I would have to miss my Friday run and I was not happy about it.  However, what must be done must be done, and on this Friday the ‘what must be done’ was to get back to Huduma centre, three weeks later to confirm if the new smart DL was ready.  It was on such a Friday, three weeks ago, that I was spending my whole morning at the centre, to initiate the renewal and migration process.  Renewal because the license had expired, and migration because I had to get the new smart card size chip card that is the new license to replace the ‘red book’.

I was therefore forcing myself onto a Friday run on Thursday.  I would have preferred to have the Friday run on Friday as expected, but the Huduma appointment was just too important for even the usual Friday run appointment.  Occasionally, Thursdays are Fridays in the world of marathons, and the Thursday’s Friday run became a reality on this Thursday.  I was still tired from the Monday 25k, but the Friday was already here, one day earlier, and I just had to do this.

This Thursday run would be the good old ‘new normal’.  I was now used to this old ‘new route’ from Eldy town to Kipkenyo centre and back.  When back, I would add the Langas (Kisumu Ndogo) loop to make the run complete.  This run turned out to be heavier on my legs than usual.  I was hardly surviving the run.  While I did an ‘under 5min per km’ on Monday hardly three days ago, I was sure that I would even be do a ‘6min per km’ on this Thursday.  That would still be very OK with me.  I was just too tired and wanted to get this Thursday-Friday run done with.

After about 1hr and 40 minutes, I was emerging from the Langas road to join the Kapsabet-Eldy road to head towards town.  I would soon be through with the run.  The weather was unusually hot.  It has not rained for three days, after a streak of about a week of daily rains.  I was sweating profusely.  The air seemed humid and I laboured to get a full chest intake of air.  I however persisted since the run would soon be over.  I would momentarily run past Eldoret Poly that was on the opposite side of the road.  I kept my run towards town, with the vehicles to town alongside my run route, just to my right.  They overtook me, but I kept going.

After about five minutes on the highway, I would see the imposing white story building that houses Khetia supermarket just ahead, across Sosiani river.  I would have reached that mart just across the river, some two hundred metres after the river had I continued on with the main tarmac.  I would instead turn left just before the river.  I would then take another left turn for the road towards my finish line.  I was just glad to have finished the run.  I was shocked that I was actually on a 5min 14sec average pace.  I was sure I was on the six-ish range.  That was still fast over the 24k route.  However, on this day, I was just glad that I was through with the second and last run of the week.  Phew!  No more runs until next week.

Looking ahead, I still had that Friday appointment with Huduma that I was not looking forward to.  And I had hardly had any rest before it was a Friday already and I found myself on the Huduma queue at 7.30am.  I had thought that I was early, but I ended up being about the fortieth person on the ‘NTSA’ queue.  It seemed that this queue had created a reputation of its own, since it was now secluded for ‘licenses’ only, out of the over twenty services available at the centre.  Other people who wanted to get other services had their own single queue.  On this day, this ‘other queue’ for all ‘other services’ had less than ten people.  Our own queue kept growing with over thirty people behind me.  Long and short queue, we all waited for the doors of the Post Office that house the centre to open at eight.

At eight the doors did open and we started streaming into the internal of the building, in batches of ten.  The ‘system’ must have been working well on this day, since I was inside the building at 8.30am, to now face the internal queue.  I was not in any hurry with the service.  I was here to stay even upto midnight, provided the service was on offer.  My fingers were now just crossed over this ‘system’ issue.  Hoping that it would decide to continue behaving.  So far, so good.

There was nothing noteworthy in the collection of the ATM card sized license.  Just hand over your national ID, scan your index finger, sign a register, repeat telling them your phone number, which is already on the register and also on the system that they are using anyway, then off you go with your two cards that they would have handed back to you.  Simple!  Why it takes forever still beats me!

I left the centre at ten-thirty.  That was a record.  On this day, I was facing almost similar settings to those that were prevalent some three weeks ago, when I spent two more hours.  Maybe things are changing for the better.  I sure did hope so.  Maybe it was that threat of dissolution of ‘the government’ and the very possibility that we shall in 90-days be in similar queues to re-elect a ‘new government’?  Whatever it was that was making service faster, should surely continue being there.  However, it was not all rosy inside the centre.  We observed as four or five ‘strange’ people jumped the queue and got served ahead of our waiting group.  These ‘jumpers’ would normally be brought in by the soldier man with the big gun hang on his shoulders.  Dare you say?  Well, that is life, but our patient eventually paid off.

I walked back home with lots of questions.  I still did not get the rationale of change of licenses from ‘red book’ to ‘ATM’ aka smart DL.  Was it just to make us queue?  And part with 3k?  I still did not see its real value even as I examined its information, which was just similar to what is on the national ID.  Didn’t one of the people on the queue even state that we shall be renewing this card every three years?  Facing the same pay-queue-apply-queue-collect cycle?  What is the obsession with ‘new’ cards?  Do not even remind me that we still have the Huduma number card still pending.  The very card that was supposed to ‘consume’ all cards into a single universal card.  Yes, the Huduma number of June last year, that was to have been issued by August…. last year.

I would have been able to still do the Friday run on schedule after all, since I was through with Huduma in very good time and could have been ready and available for the mid-day run.  Anyway, what is done is done and that Friday run on Thursday was still hurting my feet on this day.  It still counted as Friday run for that reason.

“Ooopppssss!,” I exclaimed, hardly one hour after thinking about the possibility of the run.  

It was already drizzling.  The drizzles would soon turn into a heavy rain.  It was torrential by one.  I was now glad that I did not do my run on this Friday.  It could have been the most messed up run of the month.  But things would get worse.  The rain persisted all through the afternoon all the way into the night.  It was still raining by eleven.  At this rate it would probably rain throughout the night.  

So as the rain continued in the background, I could not help but just sit around and get some current affairs going.  I would hear that we are soon coming to the ‘end of Corona’, with schools set to re-open next month.  It was now forgone that life would have to go on despite any prevailing circumstances.  The circumstances of which included the fact that worldwide COVID-19 infections now stood at 32,695,693 with 991,661 fatalities and 24,096,953 recoveries.  In Kenya, we would have to live our lives as normally as possible despite 37,707 infections, 682 fatalities and 24,504 recoveries.  Life continues.

WWB, Eldy, Kenya, Friday, September 25, 2020

When you have nothing to do, do nothing

When you have nothing to do, do nothing

Today I had the misfortune of watching a reality show, rather the remote fell from the table to the floor and the button pressed themselves to a channel that had a reality show.  I believe that I must have watched a similar setting of such a show, but must have been many many year ago – emphasis many many.  By then it seemed to have been a program with content.  There was humour and lessons in equal measure at that time.  However, what the remote stumbled upon today was nothing comparable.  

I have nothing against anybody who adores reality, and this particular one.  You are entitled to your liking, that is, if saying the f-word every sentence is your fancy.  Is it to get attention with the viewers or what?  I know that the program narrative usually starts with many strangers being forced into a house over a course of 40-days, during which time one or two of the housemates are eliminated until a winner emerges many weeks later.  At least, that is how it was then.  

I do not know how it is now.  I blame the remote for forcing me into watching this day’s version, rather to have some background sound as I blogged away.  I long for the good old days, when reality made sense!  Now it is a matter of curse and swear to get attention, followed by doing nothing to waste the little attention.  The R18 rating is a waste of a classification label.  There is nothing 18 about it.  Swear and curse does not make something 18.  Singing nonsensically over a full hour makes no sense.  

Trying so hard to get attention by the vulgar does not add any value.  Even the scenes that should surely have been x-rated and no longer anything close.  If dressing skimpily, commenting about body parts, lamenting loudly about going to the washroom (instead of just going!) and playing nonsensical games deserves an x, then so be it.  Shouldn’t viewing a program leave you enriched?  Give you some lessons?  Draw some ironies and life lessons?  You have a higher chance of learning something from square pants than that biggie program.

But could the portrays on this program be what it means to people when they have nothing to do?  Doesn’t the saying already tell us that ‘if you have nothing to do, then do not do it (here?)’.  You are better off doing nothing on a long queue waiting for government services, than being behind this screening.  Oh Yes, doing nothing on a long queue waiting for GOK services….

It started when the government decided to migrate my data from the forms that I had filled, into an online system, without my consent, knowledge or information.  However, that was not the big deal, since it is expected that the forms that we routinely fill-in would end up in a computer system anyway.  The big deal was that they made an error in spelling my name when doing that data migration.  I had checked the information on the online e-gova site and noted this error about two years ago.  

I had immediately sent an email to the address given for such purposes and asked the provider to make the changes.  The email was not acknowledged or acted upon.  The phone numbers provided on the site were not going through.  It was not an urgent issue at that time, since I could still undertake renewals using manual methods without the need for integral system data.

The government then started the process of changing of driving licenses from the current ‘red book’ to a smart card, where the information is stored in a chip, unlike the book where renewals are printouts that have to be affixed in the book.  These small almost ATM card size receipts had been bulging the red book with every additional renewal ticket.  

This would be no more with the anticipated changes.  Just an ATM size plastic card was all that was in the offing.  A chip in that card would carry all the data.  That is simple enough and good enough.  This project was not urgent over the last two years, since the migration would be phased, and would be rolled out upon the subsequent renewal.  With renewals running either one- or three-years, with the latter the preferred, the transition was surely expected to be phased and likely smooth.

My renewal was due early in the year, and I had decided to migrate to the new smart version.  Despite that, the powers that be had already decided that all renewals from 2020 would be to the new smart system anyway.  This renewal and hence change to new card was however only possible by initiating an online application on the same system that had an error on my name.  The same system that gave a warning that one should not undertake the renewal if there was an error of any sort in their data.  Such erroneous information was to be reported on the online system for correction first.  

I did this reminder online correction request in January, knowing that I still had upto end of February before license expiry.  That online correction request of January, just like previous requests, was never responded to.  An email and a reminder email in the same month for action on the correction were not answered either.  The phone number given on the website was going unanswered and other numbers shown were non-existent.  By March, I had decided to probably just go to their offices and have the correction done.  Then….. then corona hit and everything came to a standstill and the country virtually shutdown.

I revived the issue of data correction and renewal last month, when I took my sabbatical break from the many runs that had been my routine since March.  I sent new reminder emails, which still went unanswered, while the online application for correction remained unattended.  The phone numbers provided on the site were still not being answered and the corona thing also meant that probably there was no one of the other end of the phone.  I was getting desperate to at least renew the license.  Had there been no error on my data, then the process would generally be smooth – I would just have applied online, paid for the service by mobile money or card, then gone to a registration centre in the country and applied for the new license. 

I was searching the web to get sentiments on how services were being offered and what my other country-people were feeling about this new license thing.  The feelings were worse than I thought!  There were complains from Moyale to Kwale!  I was even forced to get to FB, which I have not done in a long time, just to get a sense of what the people were saying on the providers site.  I observed that it was a general concern and frustration about this issue of correction of data and generally non-responsiveness to emails.  

I also saw that going to a registration centre for the application process was a frustration in all ways possible, from the centres not having tools, delays in process, repeat visits, delayed receipts of final licenses to long queues.  However, I was still in the process of data correction first, before I could start the real frustration.  Checking the FB at least enabled me get a new email address, which was not on the official site, and which was offered for communicating issues of data correction.

I was not holding my breath when I resend my email to the new address.  I had already resigned to the fact that I would never renew the license until I get back to the city, which would be sometime later in the year.  And this would mean going to their offices in person.  I was even contemplating renewing the license with an incorrect name, and then start the process of name correction later.  All these options were now on the table.

It was therefore pleasantly surprised when I got a response to my email, hardly 24-hours later, that the correction had been done.

“This can’t be true!,” I murmured as I quickly got online to check on my details to confirm the correction.

It turned out to be true.  The one misspelt letter, M instead of W, was now corrected.  I did not even wait to reconfirm.  I was quickly initiating the renewal process and paying up the 3,050 for the smart license so that I get this done with.  For the second time I was seeing this breakdown of 3,000 as the license fee, while 50 was a ‘convenience fee’.  The first time was when applying for a passport two years ago.

I have never understood the logic of this convenience fee.  It would only make sense if all options were given, each with its associated cost, so that we can judge the convenient option and then decide whether to use that option and pay its fee, if we believe it is the ‘convenient’ option.  But this is a fixed amount that all have to pay in a tupende-tusipende style.  I would strongly suggest that they just include this fee in main charge, other than giving it a separate name and forcing everyone to pay it nonetheless.

Anyway, I was just glad that this process was now underway.  After the payment, I had to pick a ‘collection point’, which is where I should collect the smart card.  The list had many towns in Kenya.  I picked Eldy.  It was then just too good to be true, when the next process asked me to pick a date and time when I should visit the collection office to register my biometrics.  

Well, ‘collection point’ was now more like ‘registration point’.  But this still did not make sense.  Doesn’t the big brother already have this data?  Why the duplication?  I provided all this info and more during the Huduma number registration process!  Including these very self-same biometrics!  Did I not even provide a retina scan in that Huduma number process of last year June?

Nonetheless, I needed this project done with, and so I picked a date and a time.  The time slots were being picked from a green array of small rectangles drawn on the screen.  Any unavailable time slot was marked as a red rectangle.  None of those coloured rectangular arrays, about 50-per-row, for a total of about 4-rows had any indication of what time they represented.  There was just a display of about 50-rectangles, most green, some red, in 4-rows.  You just had to guess and click on some box, before the time that the rectangle represented would pop up.  I scanned row number two of the green rectangles and clicked somewhere on the first half of the array.  I saw a pop up showing, “10.10 – 10.12” as the box turned red.  I clicked it once more and it turned back to green colour.

Too early, I thought.  I clicked another green box, about ten boxes away to the right.  It showed “11.57-11.59”.  I unclicked it, then decided to click the box that was five columns to the right of this particular one and I got a slot that I liked, “12.10-12.12”.  I clicked it and it turned red.  Thereafter, the screen indicated that I was booked to visit NTSA offices at the indicated time on Thursday, September 4.

That technology was just top notch.  Despite that time booking system lacking in details on what each green block represented, it was still quite something.  Good stuff!  Great technology!  Booking users in 2-minute time slots was just pure genius.  No more congestions.  Just be there at your time and you are sorted.  It even sounded too good to be true. 

I was at the designated offices at exactly 12.05pm on the designated Thursday.  I had given myself a five-minute advance arrival to clear any preliminaries, including the gate access, where the sentries tend to take their sweet time (and stubbornness, depending on temperament).  I can however not say that I was any surprised, when the sentry told me with all politeness (thankfully), that the service was not being offered at these offices and that I should go to Huduma centre instead.

Though I was not very surprised, I still felt cheated out of the seemingly smooth process.  It had just been too good to be true.  The true colours of the real process were now coming out, surely and progressively.  I did not know for sure, but just guessed that Huduma centre should be at the Post Office.  It usually is.  So, with pure instinct as my guide, I rushed towards the direction of the PO.  I still guessed that I had a 12.10pm appointment.  I would just barely make it, but I would make it nonetheless despite being probably a bit sweaty.

When I reached the PO, I immediately knew that this was the Huduma centre, even without any signage or being told so.  I could see the two long queues leading to the entrance of the building, as I approached the gate to the compound of the PO.  Did I really have an appointment at all in this setting?  I approached slowly without much hope that I would be served at 12.10pm.  It was now already 12.10pm.  I approached one long queue that was winding round the building, where I probably was the fiftieth person.  I asked the forty-nineth person whether the queue was for license renewals and he confirmed that it was.

I was stuck!  So much for booking an online appointment!

I was just about to ponder on whether I was ready to stay on queue until midnight when someone who had a windbreaker sweater with the words ‘huduma’ on the right breast pocket walked along the queue, repeating every often as he walked along, “Walio kujia license warudi kesho au Monday.”

I could have chanced and waited to be served, however late it could have turned out to be, even if it was midnight had the promise of service been assured.  But now, an official was already telling us to leave and come back another day.  Most people on the queue did not react to the statement.  They stayed put.  I had a different approach.  I obeyed his call and left for home.  My appointment was already disappointed and I would just have to try another day.  That ‘other day’ would be the very next day, Friday, but with a new approach that would cater for all the experiences that I had encountered and the lessons learnt from them so far.

On Friday I took the fifteen-minute walk to Huduma to ensure that I would be there at exactly eight, when the centre would open up.  Oh, my, my!  How wrong would this strategy turn out to be?  I was approaching the gate of the PO compound when I saw the long queue already winding around the building.  This was just crazy!  I almost just turned back without even trying!  I would instead join the queue at the exact position that I had joined in the previous day – with about fifty people still ahead.  The centre had not yet opened up.  The time was just about eight.  I just joined the queue and hoped for the best.  I had a Swahili story book about Mau mau rebellion at hand and headphones at head.  I had not planned to use these two arsenals at all, but they were now proving to have been the right tools for the day.

The queque remained static for some time.  A staffer of Huduma would soon get to our standing position moving progressively from the first person.  He was checking on our documents.  He wanted us to show the copy of invoices that we had printed, and also a screenshot confirming the online booking.  None of these was a requirement when applying.  If anything, the whole information was already online and printing the very same just to show out was an overkill and a waste of trees.  Those without printouts were told to get them either immediately, or wait to get in and get them printed at the cyber.  

I recalled one complain that I had read amongst list of frustrations was that when the invoice ‘disappears’ from the online system then it is surely disappears, without any way of getting it back whatsoever.  In my case, I have made a habit of just saving everything savable, and printing progress screenshots when dealing with gava websites.  This is because you never know the surprises that may be coming your way in terms of something needed later that was not mentioned at all.  

I have also learned to carry with me originals and copies of anything and everything when seeking gava services.  Though the Huduma staffer had just checked on two of the documents, my brown A4 size envelop had many other documents in original and copy, just in case.  This included ID original and copy, the red book original and copy, birth certificate original and copy, KRA pin certificate original and copy, job ID original and copy and my CV, just in case.  My A5 size Swahili story book was also in there.

The queue would remain stationery for long.  However, at around nine, the queue started moving and it moved quickly.  At this rate, I would be through with this process by ten.  I wore a faint smile in nostalgia.  Then the line once again just came to a standstill.  I was now about the twentieth person from the entrance.  All movements ceased and we stayed stationery.  Another staffer from the centre would at some point force us to move back in the name of keeping to social distance markings on the floor of the corridor around the building.  We continued waiting, with people getting agitated with each passing minute. 

What was really going on?  Nobody knew and nobody said.  Soon murmurs would start amongst the people on the queue. 

“Lasima ni huyo mashini,” I heard one of the two people ahead of my position say.

“Hiyo mashin ya chana?,” his colleague responded.

“Huyo mashini chana nagataa.  Aligataa mbaka watu najoka na gwenda du nyumban.”

“Chana nagua mpaya san,” the colleagues agreed.

“Chana mbaya san.  Lagin leo lasima tabata huyo lesens.”

“Nazahau saa saba pia hao nafunga na guenta lanj?”

“Na imachin mimi ni gujugua du lesens ndio nadaga!  Una panga du lain refu gujugua du lesens!,” the first speaker lamented, loudly enough for the benefit of all and sandry.

I had already gathered so much.  This registration may happen.  It may as well not happen.  I had now kept an open mind that I may be making another trip to this queue on yet another day, especially now that we were not moving at all.  That standing on the corridor and doing nothing was really tiring.

It was at 11.30am, after more than three-and-a-half hours on the queue, when I finally got through the entrance scan and security check, before getting into the centre.  I registered my name and telephone number at the reception before I was shown a seat.  The seat was about the fifteenth, each seating two people with the social distancing forcing a seat to be blank between any two people.  I was therefore on another waiting queue of over thirty people.  At least I was inside the shade of the centre and was even having a seat.  However, the seating was going to be long, at any rate.

We kept moving forward through the seats, one person at a time.  I was now in the deep of things.  There was no giving up however long it would take.  This would be the day.  Unless something drastic happened, which was still possible anyway, I was determined to stay here even upto midnight, provided I completed the process on this day.  Of course, there were no washrooms, and you either had to keep it in the pressed in the reservoirs or lose your queue position by going for the public pay washrooms two streets away.  Occasionally, you would get good queue-people who would allow you to take the ten-minute break and later rejoin the queue at your initial slot.  If you did not get such good people, then that washroom break would cost you over twenty positions back on the new queue.

I was now in the centre, though the service was painfully slow.  It seemed like the license people were the majority in the open space.  The rest of the counters with all manner of services were virtually empty.  A load balancing scheme would have solved this particular impasse, but in gava the left and right hands are very distinct, and so are differences between the fingers of the same hand.  Thirty computers would rather be unused since they do not belong to that department, while two computers are spewing dark smoke due to overuse.

As I said, I was here to stay, for as long as it would take.  Then we had a new development.  When we still had about twenty people ahead on the seats, one staffer came about and asked us to provide him with the invoice copies for those registering or ID copies for those collecting their licenses.  We gave them out and he went with them to the serving desks, which I could see just ahead.

We now just waited to be called, some to collect their DLs, other to register for the DLs.  At about 1.20pm I would be called to the counters, to participate in a process that took like a minute.  Just register name and telephone number on a sheet, followed by signature, then face a monitor-mounted camera to take a photo, followed by placing the two index fingers on the fingerprint scanner and that was it.  Get back your invoice copy and you are out!  So, why was this one-minute process taking forever?

I was moodless as I walked home from the centre, knowing very well that I would have to face another long queue in three-week’s time to collect the card.  Of course, for my troubles, I did miss my Friday run even as I took my missed breakfast at two o’clock.

WWB, the Coach, Eldy, 5-Sep-2020