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.

Be ready to take the feel-good train… when it comes

Be ready to take the feel-good train… when it comes

I could just feel it.  This was the day that a record would be broken.  I was on top of a ‘feel good’ state, which just possessed me on this day.  My body was just perfect as I started the run.  The day would have been better had there been no corona that was causing this COVID19 thing.  Since morning I had been bombarded with the COVID numbers - 106,821,217 worldwide infections* with 2,330,285 deaths and 78,567,302 recoveries.  This represented a mortality rate of 2.18%.  At position 81, ranked by total infections, Kenya's numbers were 101,944 with 1,786 deaths and 84,473 recoveries, hence a mortality rate of 1.75%.  

*source: worldometers

However, the news media was now also starting to have an element of good news as vaccines were now becoming common use intervention in almost all continents.  Even South Africa was now starting its vaccination campaigns based on Astra Zeneca vaccine, despite SA having been the origin of the new ‘South African variant’ of a new corona strain.  So, the virus was mutating, but vaccines were also already in use.  This corona thing shall be gone, as I keep saying, and… gone soon.

Ok, let corona be for now.  Back to my feel-good moment this Monday.  I knew that it shall be a good run the moment I took that first step at about 4.45pm.  My body was just in good form.  I did not feel any of those discomforts that have plagued each of my runs since January.  I have previously had some form of discomfort during each of my runs, starting from stomach pains to leg pains, headaches to upper body stiffness.  But today, I did not feel any of that.

I set off and knew at that point that I was going to have the best run ever.  The weather was also perfect.  It had rained in the night and drizzled during part of the day.  There was no rain in the evening, but the sun had been completely blocked out by the rain clouds that remained prevalent on the sky.  I had a feeling that it would probably rain at some point in the evening, maybe even during the run, but I was not worried about being rained on.  Let it happen.  I was not going to waste this beautiful weather due to worry over the unknown.

I was crossing Waiyaki way after about fifteen minutes of run.  I could feel that my pace was faster.  That stretch of the highway to Ndumbo stage that would usually ‘get to me’ on other occasions was just a breeze on this day.  I was soon past Ndumbo, with all its matatu and boda commotions.  I was heading down Kapenguria road past Wangari Maathai institute and past the river.  I ran through the hill to Lower Kabete road without much ado.  I was just top notch on this day.  I wondered why this was so.

Could it be the feel-good due to the book launch that I had attended the previous day at Karasani?  When my niece Eddah was unveiling her second book ‘Shekinah Glory’, a daily devotional book, with a big acknowledgement given to me as her favourite uncle?  What was it with me today?  Could it be that I had just taken wimbi uji and nothing else since morning, and that it was having a cleansing effect on my system?  I just did not know what today was all about, since I just kept running and was soon done with the slight uphill on Lower Kabete road and diverted to my left to Mary Leakey route and then would be running across the university farm.  

I emerged at ‘the tank’ and joined Kanyariri road by a right turn.  I started feeling a slight bout of tiredness as I faced this stretch of road towards Kanyariri shopping centre, however, this setback would be short lived as I regained my energy levels as the hill progressed towards Gitaru market.  I did a U-turn at Gitaru market and started on the downhill on the same Kanyariri road.  I would soon be overtaken by some other runner, who shouted back, “Strong!”

I must have taken this comment seriously, since I would get my ‘strong’ on the legs and started sprinting down the road, overtaking him in less than a minute, since he had somehow decided to also either reduce his speed or had been showing off with his overtaking and had burnt out.  I was not to see or hear his footsteps behind me anymore.  I kept the downhill sprint, even as I met the many students in small groups, in their green uniforms taking over all of the road.  I suspect that they must have been from the Kanyariri High school, just besides the road.  I overtook them and kept my run.

I was now just looking forward to that last hill towards Ndumbo market.  That was the only hurdle on my way to the finish line.  My conquest on that hill would make this already good run even better.  I started that hill by following some other runner who was ahead but only for a moment.  I would soon overtake him on the hill.  One thing about overtaking a runner on a hill is that you really need to be sure that you want to do that.  A hill makes you run slow to start with, and at the same time, you need to run fast enough to overtake and stay ahead of the person that you have overtaken.  Get your timing wrong and you shall burnout your chest, at the expense of the runner that you intended to overtake.

I had already known this fact, so I just had to assimilate to some comfortable uphill pace and steadily overtook the runner.  I did not even look back.  The hill was already frying my legs and I did not want to do anything silly like try to accelerate because the runner was on my back, no, I just looked ahead and maintained my steady uphill pace.  I would soon not hear the footsteps which I had heard struggling behind me for about twenty metres after overtaking.  I was now on my own, ready to pass through the busy Ndumbo roadside market and then be out of that crazy place with matatus, bodas, people, traders and sundry.

I was finally out of Ndumbo and onto the Waiyaki way.  I would run about half a kilometre before crossing over the mid-road barrier to join the road that passes besides Kabete Poly.  For the first time I felt some lethargy creeping into my legs.  I could feel the pressure and pain on my knees and calves.  The run had gotten the better of me.  It was now a struggle to just keep running.  I was now just wishing for the finish line, which was not yet in sight, if anything, I still had about ten minutes of run.  From this point on, with the legs aching as they were, I would just have to rely on willpower to finish this run.  It had started well, but the end was torturous.

Those last ten minutes were just pure hell, but I went through and managed to finish the run just before 7.00pm.  The stats proved that today was the best run day ever – I clocked an average pace of 4.54min, the first time I had hit a sub-5 maybe in 6-months?  I would have to check that, but it is long since I saw a sub-5 on my records.  Let the legs ache, let the headache afflict me, I do not care for now.  Let me continue riding the feel-good train.  I do not know when I shall get on board such a train again.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Feb. 8, 2021

Forced to walk… during a run

Forced to walk… during a run

Do not blame me for getting to Westlands at 8.30am.  If anything, I was already late, despite this being a Saturday.  It was a Saturday like any other.  I take that back.  I would usually be in bed at this time, so it was not a ‘normal’ Saturday.  I was out early, since I was to get my item purchased by online shopping through a delivery agent in Westlands.  As already said, I was sure that the agent opened the shop at eight, since I had confirmed as much the previous day.

I would soon walk to the usual agent’s shop, just around Sarit Centre.  It was the very one that I had visited several times in previous occasions, especially before Corona was a real thing and moving around was the norm.  Corona infections and afflictions were in the zeros, meaning that it must have been late 2019.  The numbers* now stand at 102,860,053 infections with 2,221,933 deaths with Kenyan numbers being 100,563 infections with 1,753 deaths.  

It was a free life then.  Moving around Nairobi was the norm.  Visiting places was the routine.  Things were normal then.  Life is no longer the same now.  Social distancing, hand washing, isolation, facemasking and temperature checks are the buzz words.  I now prefer to pay extra to get items delivered to my doorstep, but particular order still slipped through my preference for door deliver.  

The circumstance of this ‘slip’ was that I had two addresses registered on the online account.  When I placed the order, the first default address was picked by the system ‘incognito’, which was ‘collection from agent’.  My second address clearly indicated doorstep delivery.  Of course, these online things do not ask you to confirm such information such as delivery address.  It just rushes you through a series of next…  next… next buttons.  

I wonder why it does not show a ‘next’ at that payment page, where you have to deliberately pick a payment method, deliberated confirm the same, then deliberated pay successfully before you can get the ‘next’ at the very end of double and triple confirmations!  I even forgot that compulsory OTP sent as a text on phone!

Tricksters!

I had learnt my lessons from this experience and I deliberated changed my address as the first action when I did a subsequent order from the same online retail shop.  When beaten, you do learn.

Back to the events of this Saturday, January 30.  I was at the usual agent’s shop.  Even the signage on the window still confirmed that this was the place.  The door was still labelled with the vendors logo.  I would soon knock, wait, try the doorknob, and find it locked.  It was now just about quarter-to-nine.  I was taken aback.  I was almost one hour late, and the place was not open.  This was not what I would expect of such a public service outlet.

I saw a telephone number written somewhere on the door label, which I decided to call.

“We have shifted to Block A, just next to the gate,” a male voice said casually, without a care in the world.

I left the labelled door and walked out of Block C.  I would soon be at the building labelled ‘Block A’, just to my left, despite the gate being to the right.  I walked around the ground floor of Block A.  Most rooms were still new, some even under renovation.  There was no business outlet at all on that floor.  I proceeded to the first floor – same storo – ongoing works and no business going on.  I decided to try the second floor.  Same.  Renovations everywhere.  I walked out and headed to the gate of the compound.

“Natafuta agent wa Kili,” I asked the sentry.

The lady pointed to a collection of doors just next to where she was sitting next to the gate, “Hiyo door ya tatu, lakini bado wame close.  Hawaja come job.”

I proceeded to confirm that the third door was surely locked.  The pink door was not even labelled anything to do with the online outlet.  It was labelled as some form of boutique.  I was now stuck in the hot morning sun with nothing to do but wait.

I would find myself bored after only one minute of doing nothing.  I called the same number that I had called on Friday.  The lady on the other end of the line first directed me to this new location, which I confirmed was where I was, before she asked me to check for the outlets number which should be embedded somewhere on the collection notification.  I surely checked it and found it.  I called it a first time, but there was no answer.  I waited and tried a second time about ten minutes later, and there was an answer.

I asked why the shop was still closed and whether it would open on that day.

“Nimesahau kifungu kiasi, nikarudi home.  Nita come tu ma-time zake,” the lady responded.

For lack of what to say, I asked if that ‘ma-time’ would be within an hour and she affirmed, though I was not holding my breath when I hanged up that phone.  I probably would not get the item on this day.  Nonetheless, I would still give it the promised ‘ma-time’.  I then wondered how even ‘kiasi’ comes into the equation.  Would she come with some keys and leave others?

I decided to walk around Westlands to kill some time.  I walked round the big circle around Westgate and back to the agent shop, only to find it still closed twenty minutes later.  I then decided to do a bigger circle on General Mathenge road, all the way to Lower Kabete road at Spring Valley and then back through Sarit.  This longer walk enabled me to finally find the shop open, where I picked my item and was soon gone.

I walked to Waiyaki way and emerged just opposite Fogo Gaucho.  This is where the usual Westlands stage, for those plying Uthiru route, would usually be.  It was not there.  The road works had barricaded that stage and all open space upto the gates of Fogo.  Vehicles, included matatus were just zooming on.

“Where is the stage?,” I asked the air as I kept walking towards ABC.

I would soon find myself walking and squeezing myself on the little space left with the road construction and all vehicular traffic.  I just kept walking not knowing whether I would get the bus stop anywhere near.  I would finally get a stage opposite Safaricom HQ, where I got a matatu and was at Uthiru finally.

I had hardly settled when I got a second message that I shall be receiving a second item ordered from the same online shopping outlet within the day.  I called the number given and some guy told me that he would deliver the item around four.  He said that he would alert me when he was near Uthiru.

This is something that I forgot, until the phone rang around four-thirty.

“Niko Nuclear ya Uthiru”

“But, lakini ulitakiwa uje madukani?”

He thought for a bit, then, “Lakini sijui madukani.  Wewe kuja Nuclear.”

I found myself, for a second time in one day, chasing after an item.  I had experienced the episode at the agent outlet in Westlands, now I was experiencing the episode of a lost rider at Uthiru.  I walked the 2km to the Nakuru highway and was at Nuclear in under twenty-minutes, just to ensure that I did not keep the rider waiting.

I did not find him at Nuclear petrol station.  I called him and he said that he was just near there.

“Nipe two minutes nikupate hapo”

Two minutes would turn to thirty minutes.  I had already experienced such forced delays earlier on this day.  I was now used to it.  I would finally see someone on a motorbike in the middle island of the wide road under construction, beckoning me to get to his position.  I got there and picked my item, then finally walked back to my station.

I did not feel anything when none of the two connector gadgets that wasted my morning and afternoon worked.  It was just another eight-hundred shillings down the drain, plus all the wasted hours running around.  I was ready for such an eventually even when purchasing the items in the first place.  The reviews on whether these things worked or not were mixed, with some commentators blaming the phone brands for the failure of these connectors, while others swore that they surely worked.  I was not even having the strength to consider complaining.  Let me just accept that OTP works well for payments, but OTG gadgets do not seem to work for me.  Things happened, but life continues.

*source: worldometers

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Jan. 30, 2021

Breaking news at 100M or at 5.01M?

Breaking news at 100M or at 5.01M?

It was breaking news!  

The regularly scheduled news items had to be stopped on live stream.  This could not just wait.

“We interrupt ongoing news stories to report that Corona infections have hit 100 million, repeat, Breaking news, Corona infections have hit 100-million infections worldwide.”

White text on a red ticker below the TV screen left no doubt about this news item.

For AJZ to have interrupted their evening news midstream!  This was quite something.  I would soon be online checking my news sources* to see if this was a real deal.  But my discovery was even different.  The numbers were more of 101M, not even that 100M.  100,639,974 to be exact, with 2,161,074 deaths and 72,587,082 recovered?  Even Kenya had something 100 in the numbers - 100,193 infections, 1,750 fatalities and 83,625 recoveries.

But why was it a big deal?  The number of infections were expected to rise and at some point it would reach 100M anyway.  In fact, you do not need to break any news when at some point the numbers shall reach 110M, and then 150M and so on.  If we are to break news every time we hit double zeros, then breaking news shall lose meaning.  I am generally a numbers person, and I can tell you that numbers can be mispresented to cause misinterpretation.  It is for that reason that I would offer free advice to anyone that ‘Numbers should always be taken in context’.  

This is how to contextualize the numbers… I would look at the numbers with a view of seeing some trends, and finding out if there are noteworthy changes in trend over time… something that points to a new context that was not known before.  In my case, the trend that I would look out for would be the ‘fatality rate’.  

And... my findings are that this rate has remained about 2% since 2020.  It is still 2% even now in this breaking news time.  Now, seriously speaking, and based on this measure, has anything changed for the worse?  Unfortunately, not.  What happened last year is still happening now – there is nothing different today, even as the news breaks.

Talking about differences, was there anything to break news when I did my long run today in the evening?  No.  I started the run at 4.00pm, through the usual route past Kabete Poly, crossed Waiyaki way, then ran to Ndumbo.  From Ndumbo I ran down Kapenguria road to Lower Kabete road then diverted to the left to run through Mary Leakey route and across the Uni farm.  The route was the same old.  Nothing was different.  It was similar to what I ran last year, or even last week.

When I emerged at ‘the tank’ from the University farm route, I turned right to join Kanyariri road and ran all the way past Kanyariri market, where I did a U-turn and ran back straight all the way to Ndumbo market.  I kept running and would soon join Waiyaki way and kept running along it.  Ten minutes later and I would be crossing Waiyaki way back to Kabete Poly ready to finish the run.  I would eventually finish the run around 6.10pm.  

The route remained the same old – nothing new.  An average of 5.01min per km was however record breaking in 2021 – even if I was to look at the trends.  Had it been 5.20min per km, then it would have been same old.  And back to that AJZ story… their numbers were from a different source**, which I still checked and confirmed.  Meaning, take numbers with a pinch of salt – numbers do not lie, they just tell different stories.  

Finally, we already have corona vaccines in commercial use in different countries in the world - US, UK, Germany, France, Israel, Canada, India, China, Russia, Brazil and the list goes on and on.  Even the new variant of corona, be it South African variant or UK variant are responding well to the existing vaccines already in US.  It is now just a matter of time.  Soon corona shall be vanquished.  So the numbers may not reach 200M and the trend may not remain in the 2% fatality... who knows, everything is possible.

* worldometers

** jhu

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Jan. 26, 2021

New year that is not new - how 2021 started

New year that is not new - how 2021 started

When I did the end of year run over the lunch hour on Thursday, December 31, 2020, I was doing this to achieve two objectives.  One was to fulfil the two runs a week practice that I had established for some time now, and two, I wanted to run the Friday run in advance, with the next day being a holiday.

My run around Pioneer estate in Eldoret remained the same that I have now become well accustomed to.  This run is made up of four circuits, with each circuit just about five kilometres each.  A final warm-down circuit is available just in case I still have some energy reserves.  This final circuit is about 4k, but generally on the same route as the earlier four rounds, as I head to the finish line.

I started the run at noon when the weather was downcast.  It looked like it could rain.  The cloud cover that had started a day before had now reached its crescendo and for sure, some rain would have to fall out of the sky – no doubt.  It was now just a matter of when, not if.  This cloud cover was a welcome relief since it has been sunny and dry since I started my holiday in mid-December.  There has not been a drop of rain ever since.  However, the clouds started to fill the sky on Tuesday, and by Wednesday, we had a fully cloud-covered sky.  On Thursday there was no way the sun could even shine through the dark umbrella of clouds up there.  Rain was a must.

The weather remained still, even cold, when I started on the run.  It was not long before I would face the cold wind, hardly one kilometre into my run.  I was heading towards the Sosiani river when the cold intensified.  This was my first run in December in such a cold.  I have been running in the hot sun, suffering a dehydration headache by the time I hit 5k.  Today I was shivering badly, hardly before the second kilometre.

The run continued and the first circuit was soon done.  However, the drizzle started just as I began my second circuit.  If I kept going, then I would be at Sosiani river in ten minutes.  By then it would be too late to take shelter, should the rain get heavier when I was at that section.  So, should I continue with the run or abort it?

I decided that it would be worthwhile to take the risk and even be rained on.  After all, I have been running in the sun for so long.  One day run in the rain would be OK.  I therefore decided to keep going with my second circuit.  The drizzle continued even as I went by Sosiani river.  I would be out of the river section less than five minutes later, and would be back to the trail far from the river.

The drizzle continued, though it did not increase.  The drizzle was gone and the weather remained cold and downcast by the time I was on the fourth circuit.  The otherwise dusty paths had now been sprinkled with the showers to diminish their dust emissions.  My run was therefore not dusty, nor wet, since the rain had not been so much.

I was glad that I was doing this Friday run on a Thursday, since the weather was just perfect for a run.  No sun, no rain, a bit cold, but the manageable kind of cold.  I would soon finish the four full circuits and face the final warm-down circuit that would bring the run home.  The run ended in a time of 2.17.13 over a 25.6k distance.  I was just glad that I was done with runs for the year 2020.

Now it was time to face the new year.

But wait a minute!  Which new year?  In fact, what is new year?  With a curfew at ten and a prohibition against gatherings, there would be no mid-night shouts and merry making.  There would be no midnight noises for the first time in forever.  Can you say that there was a new year if there was no shout of ‘Happy New Year’ at mid-night?  Well, for the first time, there was no such shout.  The night was quiet.  The streets were quiet.  There were no sounds of any movements in the night environment, be it of people, motorbikes or vehicles.  If anything, there was even a drizzle as midnight approached…. and then the midnight just passed.  For the first time, there was not new year!

To prove that there was no new year, I woke up on what was supposed to be a new year, Jan. 1, 2021 and there was nothing new.  The world was still as gloomy as it was the previous day.  If anything, the weather had gone worse.  Those clouds that we thought would bring forth the much-anticipated rains had now dissipated, and the sky had gone back to clear blue.  I was even glad that I had done my run the previous day, since this January 1 date was just too sunny and hot to even contemplate a run.

I would in a moment be doing self-reflection and realizing that new year was what you made it to be.  We have been conditioned to believe that there is some special day in a year, called new year, when things start from zero, and some miracles happen to fulfil your wish list.  Unfortunately, let me burst that bubble.  There is nothing like a new year when new things ‘just happen’ and some ‘new force’ comes to the earth to drastically change your life based on your that wish list, aka ‘new year resolution’.  Forget it!

New year day is like any other day.  Do you usually enjoy your day, regardless of the month/date?  If you do, then continue enjoying each and every day as it comes.  Even if that day coincidentally is called January 1.  Do you want to change something in your life?  Work on it today.  Do not wait for January 1 and expect that some ‘magic’ will come with that day.  Sorry, do what you want every day, any day.  There is no magic that happens on Jan. 1, sorry.

If you do not believe me, then ask yourself this – on Jan. 1, 2020 we started the year with fanfare and wished that life would be good.  By that date, there had been a new virus called corona, discovered in China.  That virus was causing a new disease called COVID-19.  On that day, we had ZERO confirmed cased of COVID-19 in the world, according to the WHO*.  There was nothing.  The attention of the world was still on this new disease, which was yet to be put into context.  On that day we made new year wishes that this new disease should ‘pass’ and made resolutions that it shall not get anywhere near us.

*https://covid19.who.int/

Ask yourself the same question now.  It is Jan. 1, 2021.  We all know that our 2020 wishes on the corona front did not come true.  The new corona disease spread like wildfire and devastated the whole world, as if we never made any new year resolution to keep it at bay.  Not only that, it hit us with a vengeance killing many people that we know – locally and internationally, prominent and commoners, celebrities and celebrators.  It infected and affected many people that we know – our family, our workmates, our neigbours, our acquaintances, our leaders, our selves!  It caused disease burdens, infected and affected human bodies, caused body aches – forced people into hospitals.  Forced and self-quarantine become the norm.

Look at Jan. 1, 2021, when we have 84,418,109 COVID-19 infections and 1,834,807 deaths globally.  In Kenya, the numbers are 96,614 with 1,681 deaths.  So why were we assuming that a new year wish was the antidote?  Why would we believe that is shall be different as we start a new year?  Of course, we cannot lose hope, but we should be waiting for a particular date in the year to make resolutions.  Tackle things as they come.  

Good news – It is not all gloom.  The death rate from COVID-19 has remained low (2% globally, 2% locally).  Many people who get the corona virus shall recover, mostly without even need for hospitalization.  And even more music to the year – we have at least three vaccines approved for use and already in use (from Pfizer-BionTec, AstraZeneca, Moderna).  Our Kenyan shutdown of most sectors is being lifted progressively.  Even all our schools are being open tomorrow.  We shall just live with masks, social distancing, hand washing and self-quarantine with healthy living, in the event that we get the virus.

You still do not believe me that there was not new year?  There is usually no new year without fireworks at midnight right?  Well, there were no fireworks at midnight this time round.  Some people tried their fireworks at 10.00pm before the curfew started…. but that was still not at midnight.

My parting shot is that we should live our lives fully, one day at a time.  Let us start doing what we want to do on, the date that we want to it.  We cannot just be waiting for January 1 to somehow, miraculously change our lives or start something new.  Change your life on any calendar day of the year.  Start anything new on any calendar day of the year.  Do not wait for January.  Just like the corona issue taught us, we cannot live on ‘wishful-hopeful’ based on a particular calendar day.  Hoping that making a resolution on such a day will somehow change things.  Let us live every day fully, no waiting for a particular day of the year to make wishes.

WWB, the Coach, Eldy, Kenya, Jan. 3, 2021