Covid-19 vaccine offers Kenya a glimmer of hope

After 5 days of waiting the text finally came providing actual proof of an event which I was privileged and lucky to have been part of – receiving the Covid-19 Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine.

Courtesy – Reuters

The process had started with online booking on a portal for the hospital where I was to get the jab. This entailed filling out the Ministry of Health form and receive a booking number through a text notification.

On the day of the vaccination I arrived at the hospital and presented my booking number to a receptionist. She wrote the number on a piece of paper in front of her that had other booking numbers (felt this was digitally redundant) and asked me to wait at the reception.

The wait provided me with ample time to think about the prevailing situation in the country regarding the Covid-19 pandemic.

Kenya is currently in the middle of a third wave of the pandemic. Unlike the previous strains that were prevalent in the country for most of 2020 which saw many get infected and stay asymptomatic, the current strain is lethal.

Death and ill-health have engulfed the country. Every family is mourning a loved one or scrambling to raise funds to ensure medical care for a relative.

ICU beds and oxygen are scarce with admission to a hospital for a Covid patient pegged at USD 3,000 in cash up-front.

Kenya’s healthcare is shaky at the best of times and despite a one year grace period to get a semblance of order and even a warning, the Ministry of Health has been caught flat-footed. This has resulted in an average of 20 deaths daily from Covid-19 being reported each day for the last one month.

A silver lining amidst this prevailing gloom is the fact that Kenya received 1.02 million doses of the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine through the global COVAX facility in early March 2021.

Courtesy – AP

According to the Ministry of Health, the first beneficiaries were to include frontline workers such as health care professionals, teachers and security personnel. 

Due to vaccine apathy among the service providers, the government opened up the vaccination programme. First to Kenyans above 58 years as a priority and then eventually to the general public.

This is what eventually led to my being at the hospital reception awaiting my turn and my chance to receive the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine so as to enhance my chances against getting critically ill from a Covid infection.

Presently my number was called out by a medic and she asked me to proceed down the hall and queue outside Room Number 4.

Then after awhile I was ushered into Room Number 4 where I AGAIN filled out the Ministry of Health form before another medic took my blood pressure, blood sugar and body temperature and wrote the results on the form despite having a computer in front of her.

I then went back out and waited to proceed to Room Number 3. After she had collected a sizeable amount of filled forms the medic in Room Number 4 took them next door to Room Number 3. Presently another medic holding the forms she had being given called me into Room Number 3 for the jab.

The jab administered by yet a different medic was over in a split-second.

I am not a fan of pain and I felt nothing so there really is nothing to fear.

A little while after the jab I felt a tingling on my pricked arm which eventually felt like a dull pain that went away after a couple of days.

I also experienced mild chills, fever as well as a mild headache. The biggest reaction was a dry mouth, hiccups and a lot of thirst. There was also mild fatigue. Basically what one would feel at the start of a cold and I was lucky all these mild side-effects were over in a couple of days. In contrast two of my female friends reported more intense flu-like symptoms.

The AstraZeneca vaccine, which Kenya is using, has raised some health safety concerns in some regions of the world, especially in Europe.  Yes, there are more serious side-effects to getting the vaccine but the benefits of getting vaccinated far outweigh the one in a million risk of getting for example a blood clot.

The road to victory against the pandemic will be long and winding but the vaccine moves humanity that much closer to victory. So if you have a chance to get vaccinated please do grab it.

Courtesy – Google

**

As of today, 700,000 of the 1.02 million doses of the AstraZeneca vaccine imported have been administered in Kenya.

Due to increased Covid infections in India which is the location of the manufacture of the AstraZeneca, the Indian government has chosen to cease exports and this will affect availability of vaccines globally. How is the Kenyan government going to tackle this development?

The science regarding receiving a single dose of the Oxford–AstraZeneca COVID-19 vaccine is reassuring.

Despite the fact that it took 5 days before I received a text from the Ministry of Health Chanjo (Immunization in Kiswahili) portal confirming my first dose vaccination and informing me of the date of my second jab, the digitization of the process is impressive.

Watching the medics shuffle my form from one point to another got me thinking that there is an opportunity in our hospitals to fully digitize their processes for both efficiency and safety. Are Kenyan techies ready to provide solutions?

***

In my I-am-tired-to-be-Kenyan moments there are things that I think of.

The Kemsa Covid theft reportedly saw 8 billion Kenyan shillings stolen. How many vaccines are those? In 2020, Kenya borrowed or got grants worth 250 billion Kenyan shillings for Covid mitigation. Again, how many vaccines could have been bought with say 100 billion Kenyan shillings of that?

I have just gotten done reading George Orwell’s 1984 and it is uncanny how so much of that book is totally relevant today.

For example this quote, “Manufacturing weapons of war is a convenient way of expanding labour power without producing anything that can be consumed.”

So apt for Kenya which constructed a small arms factory grandly opened by President Kenyatta the Second but has an oxygen shortage and a scarcity of ICU beds.

***

These are trying times for all. Health-wise, economically and ultimately mentally.

May we all find the strength to survive day by day and eventually pull through.

GOD BLESS KENYA!

Skywalking in Ngare Ndare

Do you have a fear of heights is an interesting question which I rarely know how to answer. See I have done a picnic atop KICC and had a ball but I also think of what if a flyover gives way when I am crossing the road.

So when I was confronted with a canopy walk made of wire mesh and rope that is 25 metres above the ground and half a kilometre long I was torn between hell yes I want to go up and hell no, what if the canopy walk snapped.

Seeing an old man walk up the steps and begin walking made up my mind to walk the canopy. The oldie was John Fox.  John is a travel writer who has been writing about Africa for close to three decades. His articles feature on the Sunday Nation under the banner Going Places.

I am not a small man. So stepping on the wire mesh was a leap of faith and I held on to the sides with a vice like grip while looking straight ahead at John.

Step after step and I finally believed the canopy would not break and I was able to enjoy the unique birds-eye view.

It was exhilarating seeing nature up close with huge 200 year old trees, fresh air and sounds of the Ngare Ndare forest for company.

Aside from John, his two sons and I, our pack of six also included two crew members of a production house, a director of the Northern Rangeland Trust as well as Ranger Ibrahim Maina.

Ibrahim is a walking encyclopaedia on Ngare Ndare Forest. He regaled us with descriptions of the many indigenous trees, told us of the herd of elephants that had visited in the morning and what kind of wildlife visited the mud bath at Ngare Ndare.

The Ngare Ndare Forest is an important corridor for elephants and other wild animals that links the Lewa Conservancy and the Mount Kenya region.

In 2015 I had visited it as one of the legs of the Safari Rally was held there in a very old road which appeared to have been built at least 70 years ago.

This time round I was visiting it as part of my visit to the Lewa Conservancy and the management of the Northern Rangeland Trust wanted publicity for it as part of the Safaricom Lewa Marathon.

As part of the 2016 Safaricom Lewa Marathon participants and visitors are encouraged to day a trip to Ngare Ndare Forest.  The delights are the exhilarating and terrifying canopy walk as well as a mud bath (for the wildlife), stunning waterfalls and camping opportunities.

Ngare Ndare is Maa for water for goats.  There is a stream that crosses the forest and a bridge to cross over was built in 1947 by the Italian Prisoners of War. It is still in use and quite a delight to behold for a history buff.

Driving out of Ngare Ndare we gave Ranger Ibrahim and his two colleagues a lift to the nearest town where they live. At one point we have to share the road with a huge herd of domestic animals and Ranger Ibrahim explained that the community is allowed to graze in the forest in a rotational format to ensure a win-win situation for the forest conservancy and the community.

Aside from the two Kenya Wildlife Service/NRT rangers was Joy, an intern from Egerton University who was on attachment at Ngare Ndare. She incidentally played a starring role in convincing someone from our party to walk across the canopy.

40-something year old J suffers from phobia of heights. But in an amazing display of mind over mind Joy pep-talked J across the canopy walk and J was eternally grateful for the memory.

Many of my friends upon seeing the pictures of the canopy walk and finding out that I had walked across asked the same questions:  1) Were you not scared? 2) What if it snapped? 3) Are you crazy?

I am glad I walked across the Ngare Ndare Forest Canopy and I will definitely walk across it again upon my return to take in the waterfalls, mud bath and campsites because there is something quite liberating about staring at fear or doubts and overcoming.

Ngare Ndare Forest is a lovely unique getaway.

Go on!

Visit it :-).

GOD BLESS KENYA!

Of fairy tales coming true

On Sunday 1^st of May 2016 the eyes of many football fans in the world were fixed on Old Trafford to see if Leicester’s fairy tale would reach its climax at the Theater of Dreams.

A win and the 5000/1 underdogs at the start of the season would be crowned EPL champions at the home of the twenty time champions.

I had a front row seat to witness this unlikely spectacle and I was living a fairy tale.

Walking in Manchester on match day was akin to Nairobi on Mashemeji derby day. Fans decked in their club’s colors, singing and chanting. The visiting Leicester fans were the noisier and livelier.

In the tram to Old Trafford, chatted with 50 year old Steve. For 43 years, he had been going to Old Trafford. Began with his dad and never stopped. Tradition inculcated. Steve bleeds Red for Manchester United and his passion is life and death.

Outside the Old Trafford tram station met Denise. A Leicester City season ticket holder who despite living in Dubai had attended all but two home games. She is the embodiment of the Leicester roots that had sprouted the fairy tale that had captured the world’s imagination.

Walking towards Old Trafford with the thousands of fans was like making a pilgrimage. Stalls selling merchandise, open trucks offering fast food and beer on the go, hawkers calling out for their wares, fans singing all made one forgot the freezing rainy weather.

Several searches and into the stadium I went. “This is it! This is it!’ was the mantra I continually chanted under my breath as I searched for my seat.

I could not stop shaking. Perhaps due to the biting cold but mostly due to the overwhelming sense of occasion.

Seeing the teams warm up, seeing at close range the players I had only ever seen on TV so close was exhilarating.

The teams then went back to the changing rooms and I settled back on my seat watching the stadium fill up.

A few minutes before 4 and the teams lined up at the tunnel to walk into the stadium. The atmosphere was electric with 75,275 fans attending the historical match and the noise levels hitting a crescendo.

As the teams began their walk into the stadium, the announcer said “Ladies and Gentleman, Welcome to the Theater of Dreams, Manchester United and Leicester City.”

I screamed. The fan next to me screamed. Everyone screamed. I have never heard so much stadium noise. Words cannot do justice to the atmosphere at Old Trafford. You have to experience it to understand.

Antony Martial’s early goal got me flying off my seat. Wes Morgan’s headed equalizer and the unbridled joy of the 3,000 traveling Leicester fans was a sight to behold. The first 45 minutes flew past breathlessly. In the second half the pace was less frantic but the drama was still as intense. The second 45 minutes were topped off with a red card for Leicester and penalty denied for Manchester United.

The match ended 1-1. An apt result for the player’s endeavors on the pitch and in my mind as a Manchester United fan as well as a Friend of Leicester.

Leicester players walked across the pitch to acknowledge their fans. Manchester United fans gave Leicester players and fans a standing ovation. I marveled at the delightful touching moment of sporting camaraderie.

Outside the stadium, Leicester fans were in great cheer. They may not have bagged the three points to win the title but they had got a point and anything other than a Spurs win the following day and their team would be champions.

So they sung and sung and sung. In praise of coach Claudio Ranieri, in praise of Jamie Vardy, Riyad Mahrez.

“We are going on a European tour..European tour..European tour” was chanted repeatedly.

Amidst the boisterous traveling Leicester fans were Kenyans and Burundians. Surprisingly. I talked to them in Kiswahili and they spoke of their over ten years support for Leicester and the delight of seeing them almost be champions of England. One of the Kenyan gentlemen again from Mombasa proudly informed me that he was the barber for Mahrez and showed me pictures to prove it. Fairy tale things.

This is a story about fairytales. Watching the game in person was the furthest thing on my mind when I sat watching Leicester City’s 4-nil win over Swansea on Sunday April 24th.

“Ulloa again. 3-0. Three points seemingly bagged without Vardy. 8 points ahead with 3 games to go. Your move Spurs. #FriendsOfLeicester”

Is what I tweeted after Leonardo Ulloa scored the third goal in that match.

“Next Sunday – Man Utd v Leicester. Teren. Top 4 chase v Title chase. #FriendsOfLeicester tings will be tested :-).”

Was my follow-up tweet.

What I meant was that my decade’s long love and support for Manchester United would be tested by my season long love of at that point runaway league leaders Leicester City.

Manchester United after a topsy-turvy season were somehow still in contention for a top four finish in the English Premier League and a chance to play in Europe. A minor fairy tale given the nature of the season with manager Louis Van Gaal in charge.

However the bigger fairy tale was the almost being relegated to top of the table exploits by Leicester City. A collection of castaways, journeymen, and nobody’s who had somehow not only managed to escape relegation but to everyone’s shock sat atop of the English Premier League.

Imagine my joy when the following day, Monday, I learnt of an opportunity to travel to the United Kingdom to watch the Manchester United versus Leicester City game at the Old Trafford.

But there was a twist to my taste of a fairy tale experience. I needed a UK visa urgently. Tuesday was spent filing and dropping the application while Wednesday and Thursday were spent praying, crossing my fingers and refreshing my email.

An email from the visa processing office on Thursday had me running across town to Westlands to get the results which to my eternal delight were positive. My joy knew no bounds. My fairytale was on track.

Lift off from JKIA was Friday lunchtime. Touchdown in cold and rainy Manchester was Saturday morning.

The tickets availed required dressing up and thus a trip to Primark to suit-up was the first order of business. Three hours, two carry-ons bags and a MacDonald’s detour later I was back in my hotel room.

A quick shower and out I went to navigate Manchester. First port of call was the mecca for many a football fans. Old Trafford. A stadium and museum tour were the goal. Got myself to the tram station after several wrong turns, managed to buy a tram ticket from the automated machine and I was on my way.

Three stops later I alighted at the Old Trafford station. Purposeful strides. Heart beating faster. Mind on overdrive. Imagine my shock when the first signage I saw was Emirates. Did a double take and realized that this was the Manchester Cricket Grounds. Sharp intake of breathe and off I went again. Couple of minutes later and I was at the Sir Matt Busby Way. A motley of fast food joints and a pub aptly named Trafford were begging to be sampled but I had my eyes on the ball.

And then finally there it was. Old Trafford. In its magnificent imperious splendor. The Theater of Dreams. I was in dreamland. Spine tingling. Mouth agape. Hands on my head. Heard myself chant Oh My God repeatedly. Sat on a bench to steady my shaking legs. This was it. This was my fairytale come true.

After halfway composing myself I made my way in. Stewards in the black uniforms and bright yellow reflector coats stood at the entrance standing between me and my goal.

With thousands of fans in Manchester for the historic game to my horror the stadium and museum tour was sold out. I was in shock. So near yet so near. Fairytale was turning to night mare.

As I stood there for who knows how long to catch my bearings a steward brought the news that there was an opening for a 30 minute tour. Oh joy! I jumped on the opportunity faster than Bolt at the Olympics.

Started with the museum tour which was orgasmic. The trophy room is overflowing. The memorabilia from Keane, Cantona, Schmeical, Giggs playing days was a marvel to behold. The video reliving the 1999 UEFA champions’ league final win gave me goose bumps. Seeing the three trophies from the treble year as well as the three jerseys from each of the treble season competitions brought so much pride.

Then was the stadium tour. Walking in and reading the “You are now entering the Theater of Dreams” sign on the wall almost made my heart stop. Short flight of stadium and bathed in glorious sunlight was the stands and pitch.

Standing at the Sir Alex Ferguson stand, facing the Sir Bobby Charlton Stand with the Stretford End on my left. A sea of red folded up seats. The pitch in impeccable condition. Sensory overload as an old gent gave us a speech on the different stands and cracked us up with dry British humor. Time stood still as I absorbed all these then flew as the old gent abruptly announced it was time to leave.

Traced my steps back to the museum and relived the memories. Then finally grudgingly walked out of the stadium.

 

As I sought to say thank you to the stewards who had given my dream life and to ask for directions to the merchandise shop another fairytale experience awaited me.

“Habari yako” asked one of the stewards. Kiswahili at Old Trafford was surreal. “Mzuri,” followed by “Ala, hutoka wapi wewe?” Was my reply once I got over my shock.  “Wewe wafikiri natoka wapi? Huko huko utokako” was the swift reply.

With the ice broken we chatted for 15 minutes. Mohammed from Mombasa left Kenya close to thirty years ago to study in the UK. For 25 years he has worked at Old Trafford in his own words, kutafuta rizik. When I marveled at the fact that he must have seen all the Manchester Legends up close, his reply was simply, wanatalanta…lakini si ni binadamu tu…What was a magical dreamy experience to many was routine day’s work to others. Grounded me.

Different from Kenya where the full buffet of EPL matches is on offer to football fans, in the UK very few pubs show the games. So when I walked into Trafford Pub run by Stacy and Sarah and found the Arsenal Norwich game on-going I pulled a seat and soaked up the British pub experience.

Still walking on cloud nine I made my way back to the hotel with a spring on my step.

The title deciding Chelsea versus Tottenham game would find me 30,000 feet in the air as I traveled back home on Monday night.

Having watched a game at the Old Trafford I now broke new ground. One of my traveling companions streamed the game on the plane and my fairy tale continued as I watched Spurs throw away a 2-nil lead at the break to draw with Chelsea.

Eden Hazard’s beautiful equalizer was met by loud cheers and the final whistle and the ensuing brawl by high fives.

Incredibly Leicester were champions of England.

A fitting end to an incredible UK tour that was the stuff of fairy tales.

GOD BLESS KENYA!

PS: This trip was part of a promotion by gaming platform mCHEZA to reward its customers by giving them fully paid for VIP trips for European live match experiences. Other games lined up for the lucky winners are the UEFA Europa league 2016 finals on May 18th and the UEFA Champions League Finals on May 28th.

Beards, sexualization & manhood.

For a while now beards have become cool.

No idea when or how it started but increasingly folk are taking to social media to express their appreciation for beards. The appreciation takes on fanatical levels in November which is dubbed Movember.

For the clueless Movember is to men what No Bra day is to women. In October women go without a bra for a day ostensibly to raise breast cancer awareness while in November men go the entire month without shaving to also ostensibly to raise awareness of prostate cancer.

Whether this gestures achieve their intended noble goals is a matter beyond my scope.

What I am curious about is whether beards have become an S.I unit for manliness and whether beards have become sexualized.

On a given day, tweets will pass on my timeline appreciating beards. That is to be expected as people do take to social media to express appreciation. Interestingly, have never seen a tweet celebrating clean-shaven men. Perhaps it is a passing fad. Just like Michael Jordan inspired shaving bald in the early 90s someone may have made it cool to be bearded.

Fun and games, no?

It is all fun and games until a bank tweets in its official account that ‘Behind every Real man is a real beard’.

It is further fun times until a lady starts a hashtag ‘beards for X’ and publicly asks to be tagged in pics with sexy beards.

Now imagine in October a corporate tweeting ‘behind every real woman are big boobs’ or a man starting a hashtag ‘boobs for Y’ and asking for pics of breasts.

Makes you wonder has beard appreciation gone overboard. Where does appreciation spill over into sexualization? Can men’s body parts be sexualized or men are fair game? Are there different standards for sexaulization applied for men and for women?

Not so random musings…

Now unto the taste of the pudding is in the eating experience.

Normally I shave every week. A clean shave. What is/was called Jordan. Have done so for years. Habit.

In last three weeks have not visited my barbershop for a variety of reasons. My barber is worried sick. Tempted to tell him I am thinking of doing dreads. As a joke. Only I am not sure if I am joking.

An interesting by-product of this is that I (obviously!) have grown hair and sprouted a beard.

The reaction to this from my female colleagues has been interesting to say the least.

“…unakaa mbudaa…” (You look older)

“…usinyoe ndevu, nazilike sana…” (Do not shave the beard, I it like very much)

“…damn!”

“walala sijawahi kuona unakapoa hivi” (Have never seen you look this handsome)

And these are the PG-rated comments. Totally got the ladies eating off my plate.

Same old me, brand new reactions.

Got me thinking.

What is it about beards…

Does a beard maketh a man?

Nashangaa. (I wonder…)

GOD BLESS KENYA!

Dark Days

Where does one start writing about dark days…

On dark days all one wants to do is stop…

To stop doing,

To stop the darkness from being all encompassing,

To just stop.

Dark days are days where getting out of bed and taking a shower takes on climbing Mount Everest proportions.

You could have been on top of the world the previous day but then a dark day just happens and knocks you off your stride.

Out of the blue you have the blues.

Scratch that, ‘the blues’ is not this.

This is stay under the covers, switch off the phones, and gallantly try to fight off the cloud that threatens to suffocate you.

While fending off curious looks and offhand statements – “these are white people problems.”, “just shake it off.”, “just cheer up.”

Then just as randomly as a dark day comes, a dark day goes.

Until the next dark day. (Day may be one or many days.)

In the last one month, a friend checked herself out of this planet and another failed in her attempt to check out.

In the same duration someone challenged me why dark days are not written about, talked about and why checking out is shrouded in such secrecy.

Got me thinking…

In one of Chinua Achebe’s books a lady makes a profound statement, “I do not have the mouth to tell the story”.

Because at times folk may be living out a situation but the circumstances of the situation makes them unable to express the essence of the situation.

Also, there is societal baggage.

‘I have a cold’ does not attract judging, stigma or side-eyes as saying ‘I have dark days.’

That is how we are, who we are.

So darks days are hidden, battled with individually, with fatal consequences sometimes.

And the all-round silence on the dark days or the fatalities persists.

Hopefully, one day dark days will be talked about openly.

Then maybe hopefully checking out from this planet will not be so prevalent.

Until then lemme share these gems I stumbled on:

“Never give in to sadness. It won’t last forever. The broken pieces of life will fit itself into a puzzle once again. Have faith. Have hope.”

And

“Reach out. Not on WhatsApp, text, social media. Really reach out. Feel like this needs saying a lot. People be shouldering heavy loads.”

And this oft repeated quote,

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Pray that someone in the middle of a dark day will read this and get that little extra strength to fight off the suffocating darkness.

Also pray that for those who deal with folk with dark days will read this and get a glimmer of understanding about dark days.

I hope…

GOD BLESS KENYA.

Lit Up

Met you online…memory is fuzzy as to the how.

We were not bosom pals but somehow we got each other.

As the Swahili say…akufaaye kwa dhiki ndiye rafiki…

On my darkest day on social media, you had my back…for that I lit up.

Your words then still ring true…’do not let anyone take away your dignity or power…’

For when I got your dark days or on the days you got my dark days…I lit up.

For the drink we were to do before the end of 2015…I lit up.

You were awesome by just being you.

Days later it still sad…it still hard to take…I still have many questions…

But I choose to celebrate you…

As you used to sign out…Bless. Love and Light.

Thank you J.