Chapter 11 – Familiar roads
Kenyan meetup
There was nothing much to do in Stavanger when the rain-and-sun were on a seesaw, mostly in favour of the rain. That meant a full day indoors on this Saturday and another likely full day of indoors on Sunday. The situation would however change when the WhatsApp message beeped. It was short and to the point, sent to the postgrads group of four, “We have a meeting of Kenyans in Rogaland, today at 2.00pm at the UiS library”
No invitation, no regrets, no who convened it, no agenda. Just that.
Of course, Rogaland is one of the eleven regions within Norway. Stavanger town is the capital of Rogaland. This ‘Rogaland’ word would later generate quite some debate. The translation of word ‘roga’ means ‘bewitch’ in the Kenyan national language of Swahili. Rogaland would therefore have quite some connotation, if it was a Kenyan region – but, it was not.
Nonetheless, just hearing that there was a chance to meet country people was a good enough reason to attend first and question later. I joined Mutua for the short walk from P10 to the library, where we would soon be loudly chattering with someone else from the motherland continent. Our gathering had started by a trio that also included our host Faith, who had stayed in NO for six years and had actually married a country person and had become a country person herself. Soon the Eritrean would join us on his way to the library. We kept chatting and laughing out loud, just in reminiscence of our experiences so far.
Then Kimani, another Kenya who had been here for over ten years and had also become a citizen joined our group, as we chatted it out outsider the entrance to the library. I could see disdain in the faces of those walking by. They did not seem to like seeing other people happy. We did not care, after all it was a Sunday, the day when Norway was on a shutdown. All should be ‘shutdown’ somewhere in their rooms and leave us to ‘shutdown’ in our own way – the loud way. We finally had a quorum when the four graduate students joined in.
We got a sitting place at the cafeteria at Kjolv Egelands-hus, the big block that also houses the library and our usual departmental offices. We sat roundtable and were soon just catching up. We learnt quite a lot from Kimani, our host, especially how he journeyed through life in Kenya and Norway to his current status. He started his studies in Kenya, then came here for graduate studies in petroleum in 2005 and that ultimately give him an edge in getting employment within. He started out as a cleaner in ‘big’ offices, and he used the opportunity to access the MDs and give out his CV.
“In my last cleaning job,” he said, “I started like on Monday, but my Wednesday, I was a full-time employee in the petroleum company.”
We all laughed at the joke.
“No, it’s true,” he continued, “The people kept asking me, ‘Aren’t you the cleaner?’, when they saw me behind the desk as an executive employee”
He gave us some nuggets, for example to think of self-development and also get as much subsidiary information and knowledge from our stay here. He told us to consider issues such as waste management and learn some take home lessons that we could exploit back home. He said that he still visited Kenya regularly and operated some businesses there. He told us that he has written several books, mainly about his experiences, including “Fresh start” and “Pie in the sky”.
His final comments, as we took that final selfie, sorry, groupie, in readiness for posting on the Kenyans in Rogaland FB page, were, “When you decide to stay here, please be ready to reformat your whole system and be ready for a fresh start,” and before we said our “AAAhhhh”, he continued, “However, do not worry. Kenyans can survive anywhere.”
It is on that note that he setup the next dot-KE meeting in a hurry, and before we could say no, he had made an offer of ugali. With that offer, and having ‘not eaten’ for most of our time here, the meeting was set for next Saturday at Sandnes. This is a town that was some 10km from UiS.
Keep running
As a runner you know that the run has ‘got you’ when you hit a zone where your body goes to autorun mode. When you get to this mode, you just go without knowing much of what is going on around you. I believe that this state is a way of having your body ready to start the ‘shutdown’ of your body functions one by one. Eventually, at some point, the body shuts down all physical activities, including movement of the legs and that is the point when you see a runner just collapse. The final collapse is sometimes called ‘hitting the wall’ but can be mitigated using several strategies.
One mitigation against total collapse is to ensure that you are fully hydrated as you run. That means that you need to carry some water and take some sips as you run. During marathon, that means taking water from the water points whenever you have an opportunity to do so. Additionally, take some energy drinks, fruits or chocolates if these are offered on the run route – of course, these are usually not offered. Thirdly, keep practicing for those long runs, so that you can know the symptoms of the shutdown, hence be able to recognize it in good time and do something about it. The easiest something, if you cannot follow the three tips above is just to stop running, take a breather and if possible walk the distance. However, resuming the run before taking any water or other energy drinks may not be possible once you have stopped. You are likely to walk to the finish or abort the run altogether.
My body went to ‘autorun’ on Tuesday, September 17, at about the 28th kilometer. I had started the run at around 5.45pm. It was a cold evening and it hit me immediately when I got out of the main door of the dorm.
“This is bad!,” I told myself even as left to hit the first step of the run this day.
“This is nasty!,” I added, even as I started my three timing gadgets.
I assumed that the three circuit runs round UiS would warm me up somehow, but they did not. The environment continued being cold. The sun was nowhere to be seen. If anything, it was drizzling. After the circuits at UiS, I did the forested hills. The trails were mostly deserted. I had now come to learn that when these hillside routes are deserted, then there is something going on. The something going on this day was the foul weather.
The shaded hilly paths did not help. It remained cold. The main route across the forest did not help. It remained chilly. To crown the run, there was a heavy, but short rain, at around the 19th k. That rain was painfully cold I tell you! However, I would soon see two guys walking a dog on that main road on the hills. One had a hooded jacket alright, but the other just dragged the dog along. He was putting on a simple jacket. No hood. The rain did not seem to bother them. So, who was I to think of being bothered by the weather, when these two were also in the same environment and enjoying it?
But I am me, and they were them. It was getting a little bit too cold for my comfort. The rain had stopped but the chill persisted. You know that it is cold for sure, when you cannot feel your hands. I soon could hardly feel them, despite them holding a phone in either. Soon I could hardly feel my forehead. I could not frown! My forehead seemed frozen. I could feel the ice forming on it. I kept going, wondering whether I was doing the right thing. Even the normal sweat of a good run could not help me out. I was freezing cold. I kept going. Being too cold, I could not even imagine carrying along a bottle of water. My bad, since any run over 15k ideally needs some water, rain or no rain, cold or no cold. I had broken the cardinal rule and I was soon to feel its effect. The effect was not the thirst, no, it was the dehydration. Dehydration is not very pronounced on a cold day. It just hits your internal organs.
When I turned from the hilly paths to finally face that last circuit to UiS as I head to the finish, I did surely experience the signs of a shutdown. I would soon go onto autopilot, sorry, autorun. I was just running along but not seeing much of what was going on around me. I do not remember seeing the main road beside me, but it was there, and I could see the vehicles ‘somehow’. I do not remember hearing the phone reminding me of the 5min splits, but the audio was there loud and clear – at least three times during that last phase of the run. I was just there, almost in a daze, running my last three kilometers. Lack of water, lack of energy and lack of favourable temperature were hitting me all at once.
Finally, like being awoken from slumber, I saw Paviljong 10 – as if from nowhere. I hurriedly brought back my gadgets to life and stopped the timers. I was now back to full life once more. Just the end of this run and the start of my walk into P-10 brought me back to normalcy. The run was good, the cold was bad. So bad, that my two phones froze and shutdown immediately after I read out their stats. Both even ‘refused’ to recharge when I tried to juice them up! I had to clean out the moisture on the battery compartments and just leave them untouched for a few hours, before they could accept a charge. I was worried that my gadgets had been ‘fried’ by ‘the cold’.
The final read:
Endomondo: 2.34.00 – having measured ‘its own’ 24.29km route that had zig-zagging all over the trail. Must have been caused by freezing due to the freeze
Runkeeper: 2.33.52 – 31.41km
GOA: 2.34.07 – 32.14km
Let me give it to Runkeeper, simply because it did not freeze on the route and the map seemed factual. (But why does it ‘chop’ some 800m from what GOA reports? I shall pick the GOA time next time)
That ‘next time’ did not take long, since I was back to the road on Friday. The run was much better this time round. Even my aching right foot was quite improved. I did not feel that persistent pain that I usually feel whenever I step down on the trail. The weather was quite good. By ‘good’ I mean cold but not chilly, with the sun hidden somewhere behind the clouds. There was no rain or drizzle. The trails were deserted, but not as bad as Tuesday. The run that started at 5.45pm would come to an end two hours later, with the final stats being:
Endomondo: 2.13.24 – stopped working somewhere on the trail, measuring part of the run as 12.65km
Runkeeper: 2.13.23 – 27.58km
GOA: 2.13.29 – 29.44km
I was to give to GOA, but I won’t simply because the difference with the next gadget is too much. Runners run 101 advises that – take the longest time with the shortest distance, so Runkeeper it is (once again).
Weather running wild
I give up! I cannot understand the weather in Norway anymore. It is now just a few minutes past 6.30pm, 6.37pm to be exact on this Wednesday, September 25, 2019. The sun was evidently bright from my sitting position, facing the window. The next hostel block across the road, about two hundred metres away from P10 was well illuminated by the evening rays. It outside looked bright. It was bright. It looked warm – it is was unlikely. At this level of light and sun, there is no likelihood of any darkness until past eight.
But then why did I give up? Well, yesterday was my run day. I left P10 around 5.15pm. It was cold. It was dull. It was overcast. At any rate it would be rainy at any moment from the time I start my run. However, because the weather does not dictate life in NO, I just left for my run. It was chilly, but not rainy. I intended to do a 3-hour run, or thereabout. Thereabout, since I do not know how much run I could do. I relied on the weather… and ‘feelings’.
I had just crossed the 1hr 40min mark, as announced by Runkeeper when it started being dark. I was running the trails on the hillside. It is generally covered by trees on both side of the run tarmac, that is, if I exclude the 5km trail that runs within the forest that is purely unpaved – plain gravel. I am just concentrating on the tarmacked bit of the trail, which I realized provides a 5km circuit that you can run around for as many times as you so wish. This circuit has one short hill of about 50-meters, then a gentle climb of three minutes. The rest is fairly flat.
The 100th minute got me ready to start on my first full loop, hoping for a second and third if possible. The weather was still, though chilly. There was no rain. I met a few people walking their dogs. I observed that dogs came in all manner of shape, size and colour, from the small ones that are smaller than cats, to the giant ones that are a big as sheep. I met them all. I marveled at them all. Dogs are not my favourite and we give each other our spaces. However, the dogs are usually on a leash, hence nothing to worry. I noted that the dogs dictated the walks of their handlers. When the dog stopped, then the handler also stopped – for as long as the dog had stopped. The dog would resume the pace and the handler would follow suit. The dog would make a turn towards the thickets… and the handler would also make a turn towards the thickets.
I finished the full 5km from 1.40.00 to 2.05.00 time check – a 25-minute run-around time. I added another circuit and before even doing half of it the visibility started turning to darkness. One side, about a half of the loop, is a bit forested than the other half. I finished this forested half first and by the time I was passing by the tall overhead umbrella of branches and leaves it was surely dark – made darker by the reduced visibility on such a canopy.
“I cannot come back here for a third loop,” I murmured as I got out of the canopy and went towards the more open half of the loop.
It was totally dark when I finished the second loop. The streetlights were already switched on as I left the forested trail back to civilization. I looped back around UiS and was soon at my finishing point with my three gadgets registering their different times…
Endomondo: 2.32.40 – 30.3km, though the map had some erroneous route recorded as a shortcut through a forest, which surely did not happen
Runkeeper: 2.32.34 – 31.03km
GOA: 2.32.46 – 19.69km
The GOA was surely out of this run. It got hit by the cold and just stopped recording the distance. I believed the Runkeeper, which also seemed to have been out of GPS for the first few minutes when the run started. Additionally, the 31k run recorded really felt like a 31k run. I was meant to add a 5km loop to this run, but it was not to be since it turned out to be too dark to do that. Maybe this shall be for another day – which might not be soon. This is because I was now running down in readiness for the next 42k event. This was meant to be a secret, so let me leave it at that. Talking of secrets….
Kenyan meetup 2
On the previous Saturday, our ‘Team Kenya’ had been invited by KiS, the ‘Kenyans in Stavanger’ for a get-together at the nearby town of Sandnes. This is a town that is 25-minutes away on bus. With buses going as snails, and the bus stops being hardly a meter apart, Sandnes was likely to be just 5km away. I can run to Sandnes and reach there before the bus! That was meant to be a secret. I remember walking to the bus station, UiS ost, at the stage on the road that traverses the campus in the exact middle. A walk from P10 to the stage was short, just across a large lawn and you get to this main road that buses traverse.
I liked this short walk, especially the one-hundred-meter walk along the paved walkway next to the big grass lawn. I usually marveled at the green grass, but what else can you expect when the rains fall daily? But that was not all. I would usually just take a breather to look at this remote operated machine, a grass cuter (but not the ‘Noija’ grasscutter). This cutter was a 4-wheeled machine, the size of a toy car, that moved on its own, moving around the grass while it cuts anything on its path. It would reach the end of the one-hundred-meter length, then just turns back. It worked on its own without intervention. I had seen several in the various lawns. Finally, the machine would usually ‘takes a rest’, on its own, in some shelter next to the lawns. I see them there in the evenings, just parked inside the small hut.
I soon had to abandon my marvel since the bus no 6 would be hitting the stage in a moment, and I still had to buy a ticket at the machine. We would travel on a very bright and still day. Not warm, just still. We would arrived at our destination, full of apprehension at the prospect of meeting our country-people.
It turned out that only the ‘Team Kenya’ would turn up at Sandnes. Only three other persons attended – all of whom we already knew. Kimani who had made the invitation was our host. We had beaten him in timing by arriving around 3.50pm for the 4.00pm meeting. Faith joined us over 30-minutes later. She said a casual, “Ndio nimefika, have you been waiting for long?,” and joined our seating area inside the Gamleverket, a joint with an eatery and bar. The third stranger was a Kenyan studying over here. Team Kenya consisted of the ten Kenyan students on the exchange programme. In other words KiS turned out to be majorly Team Kenya, give or take.
“You know,” Kimani would start once we had taken our seats, “You cannot force someone to be a Kenyan.”
I was yet to pick the thread.
“You know, I invited the many Kenyans in Stavanger… and they are many… but as you can see,” he pointed to our table of members now meeting for the second time in a week, “We are just as we were, nobody else.”
It is possible that they had other things to do. But it is also true that you cannot force a meeting on people. You need both willing sellers and buyers of the meeting idea. Here we were, a meeting of the willing. We would soon taste the ‘special’ 1k-k meal (one thousand Kenya shillings). We would soon know why, courtesy Faith, who was compensating for her lateness by paying the bill as a good host.
“Over here in Sandnes we have one-week in the year, last week of September, when all hotels must provide a menu that has items of 100 Kroner.”
“This is the week?,” the group asked almost in unison.
“Yes, this is the week,” and to quench our unvoiced curiosity, “And this was the one hundred Kroner meal.”
That is a joke, right? That was not a joke. The otherwise NOK.250 meal was a basic slice of meat, with something that pretended to be potato puree around the slice of meat. It was served in a giant plate for dramatic effect. Subject two cuts onto that meat and it was history. Calling it a snack would be too kind.
“This,” Mutua pointed, “For all that money? Then they even give us a lamb! Instead of a fully-grown thing!!”
We left around seven.
I was among the three who got a lift from Faith.
“Let me look for the car,” she announced as we headed for the parking. By then we had already left the other seven headed to the main bus stage to get a no. 6 bus ready for the trip back.
“What do you mean look for the car?”
“The repair company gave me a substitute car while mine is under repair.”
She would soon locate it by a flick of the button on the ignition keys.
We got into the Tesla. It was big. It was roomy.
“Now, let me see how to drive this,” she tried out the controls and was soon on reverse.
“You know, my car is also electric, but this Tesla has more controls.”
We were soon out of Sandnes and onto the free freeways heading back to UiS.
“Politi!,” she shouted as we saw the strobe lights from afar approach us. The approaching vehicle would soon zoom past.
“Sorry, that was ambulance,” she affirmed.
It did not take long before we passed by the security cameras across the wide highway.
“I like electric,” she started, the quiet car zooming along, “If it was petrol car, I would now have been charged about 25 Kroner for pollution fee.”
“How do you pay?”
“The system reads your car details and sends you a monthly bill,” she said.
“When I had my previous petrol car, I would pay as much as 50 Kroner per day. 30 Kroner during peak hours and 25 during other times. My two trips to and from UiS always cost me about 50 Kroner.”
She told us that she decided to get an electric because of these charges.
“Just like now, we pay nothing. I also do not pay when I have my usual car.”
We sped along, quietly. We engaged her some more and learnt that charging the car costs about Kr.50. One just plugs to a charge station, like the ones next to our hostel rooms, and then starts a mobile app that records the charged units for billing. She told us the Tesla could fly 600km on a full charge.
“Mine does 450km per charge,” she smiled at the three gentlemen, even as she brought the big machine to the P10 parking.
Lost ticket
It is as we were walking to P10 that I remembered the episode with the failed bus ticket machine of the previous day, Friday. I was intending to go to town and matched to the ticket machine about three minutes before the expected X60 bus. The timing of the buses was already available on the Kolumbus website, and I had noted that these buses kept the timetable as clockwork. I wanted to ensure that my 1-hour ticket had the maximum time of survival, from the time of purchase to the time I finally finish the journey, back at UiS. I had to buy it just before I catch a bus, to be able to be back within the one-hour validity.
I picked the option for single ticket, slid in my bank card and keyed in the PIN. I got the message to remove the card, after which the machine indicated, “Printing ticket”. I was used to that message. It lasted about 5 seconds and then the ticket slides out of the slot. But not today. It ‘printing’-ed the ticket for over ten seconds. There and then, I knew that something was wrong. The printing message would stay on the small six-inch screen for about one minute. I knew that I was stuck. Instead of having crossed the road to wait for my bus, I was stuck looking at the machine screen blankly, as if I was amazed. I was not.
After about a minute, I saw the dreaded, “Restarting” message. And actually, the machine restarted. “Windows 7 starting….” It showed on screen, then “Loading Kolumbus ticket system”, then blank, then “Restarting”, then X60 passed on the other side of the road to pick those already waiting at the stage, then “Windows 7 starting…”.
It would restart three times before the system was back to normal with a welcome message.
“You can’t be welcoming me?,” I told the machine, “Where is my ticket?”
“Welcome,” it responded.
“I want my ticket!!”
“Welcome!”
This is not happening!! Momentarily a number 6 bus passed by to my stage, picked those waiting and proceeded to town. I was still at the ticket machine wondering what to do. The machine is never busy, since most students and people around have long term (monthly/annual) tickets, and hence hardly bother with hourly or daily tickets dispensed from such a machine. I was just alone facing the machine. The students on the stage waiting for their bus that heads opposite town, just one foot away. I made the decision to buy another ticket. It was a risk that could backfire, but, it was better that standing before the machine as if I am at aw pulpit. I was soon getting a successful “Printing ticket” message, followed by a real ticket coming out of the machine slot.
“You owe me a ticket,” I looked back at the machine and gave it that look that conveys that statement.
I had visited the Kolumbus webpage on Friday evening and filed a complaint on their complaints page. Category ‘complains’, sub-category ‘refund’. I explained the failed machine and the two payments. I was not giving this initiative any serious thought – just my peace of mind. However, I got one of those automatic email responses in Norsk. I could only read the work FB. Maybe they wanted me to report this on FB? Anyway, as I said, I was doing this for my POM. So, I had POM after that report and just left it at that.
I was enjoying that ride on the Tesla with this ‘savings’ in mind, since I would otherwise have been forced to buy a new ticket back. So, all was not lost. I lost one ticket, but was given a free lift back. That cancels it, right?
Wrong! I got a formal response in English on Sunday through email. I was instructed to visit one of their two stations to get my NOK 37.00 refund. I did go to the town terminus on Tuesday morning before that evening run. I showed the attendant the email that I received and just like that got my 37 Kroner.
“It is good you use the right ticket,” the aging man volunteered, “Some people just travel as students, but they are not”.
“Oh, you mean?,” I asked and hesitated. I wanted more. He volunteered some more.
“You know, a student is not just someone in school,” he updated me, “A student should be under twenty-five.”
I just stayed enjoying the conversation from the friendly attendant.
“Our inspectors check the buses. If you say you are student, then they ask for student ID. If you are over twenty-five, then they fine you seven-fifty.”
“That is much!”
“Yes, they fine you.”
“Thanks for the information. Do you have washrooms for travelers?”
“Do you have a card?,” he looked up.
“What card?”
“Credit card”
I usually walk with the credit card, as the only means of transaction. Sometimes I do carry the debit card, especially for those quick bus tickets.
“I have a bank card”
“That shall work, just go across the corridor, you shall find the washrooms there.”
I surely found them across the corridor. They were two cubicles. The doors were both locked. Infront of each was a card reader. Instructions were in Norsk, but the illustration pictures left no doubt as to what was to be done – swipe the card and open the door.
I swiped the bank card first and got a beep and a red light on the display board of the swiping machine. The machine had a small keypad with a card reader. It also had a small display screen. Such gadgets had been affixed next to each of the door.
I finally got a message, “Chip error. Card chip should face machine”
But that is exactly what I was doing. The card chip was facing the machine slot. I was just stuck outside the washrooms, no one around, no one to help, just the machine with an error message every time I changed the orientation of the card. Front side back, backside up, upside down, diagonal, horizontal, vertical, swipe, tap. Noting worked.
Then that light bulb blinked – yes, that must be it. Didn’t he say credit card? I extracted the credit card and on the very first swipe of card, the door clicked open! There was no ‘key in your PIN number’ or anything. That single swipe just opened the door. I was wondering at the rationale of having the door opened by card and was not getting it. Was it to prevent children from getting in or what was I not getting? I did not key in my PIN, and therefore was confident that nothing could happen to my card. This was turning out to be a very useless and unnecessary system, if you asked me. The washroom was illuminated in UV light. That was a first. I could not figure out why they were doing this. I know that back at our labs we use UV as a deterrent for some types of germs. But surely, they cannot have extended this to a public setting? I just do not understand these Norsk systems. They do not seem to make sense. I left the room and walked out. I then walked in the town for some time.
One hour after my refund, I bought an normal ticket for Kr.37.00 before getting a number 6 bus from Kolumbus main station heading back to UiS. Then… then reality struck when I checked my phone to see an SMS from my bank, “You have paid 10NOK at Kolumbus station. If it is not yours call this number…”
“One hundred shillings for use of a washroom!,” I thought of screaming inside the otherwise quiet bus.
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