:: Mombasa beats bloody Bekele!
28 March 2007

I was there. I had made it to Mombasa to see whether we would beat Bekele or if he would embarrass us at the world cross country on my home soil. I am sure that enough people had little Bekele dolls and people were sticking pins in them over and over. I was no different in my enthusiasm to see Kenya doing well home soil.  Bright and early, I had passed by Nakumatt Likoni and tickets were sold out. Bummer. I headed to Mombasa Golf club where all the action was taking place hoping I could get a ticket at the entrance. After walking past the security, I was attracted by this Tusker stand and decided to have a cool drink. It was hot I swear. So I had a sit down and asked the sellers if I could get a ticket at the gate. They told me that the whole event was free. Wheee!! No tickets. With this information I decided to sit down and wait for event to start. It was now 11am.

"Najivunia kuchapa Bekele kiboko!" says this Eritrean Kenyan.

Enough pals were passing by. Mombasa had come by in full force to attend a truly great international event hosted by a wonderfully run country run by the best president in the world (this written in case Dr. Mutua is reading this). As the people were streaming in, there were helicopters roving around and making a mighty ruckus every time they flew by. It was comforting. These guys would surely see any terrorists trying to attack Kenya's 15 minutes. There were a few mounted police riding around with their horses and looking efficient. Behind where I was sitting was the ocean. Some coast guard looking boats with fellows holding binoculars scanned every inch of land. In front of me, apparently, was scorched earth where shrubs had been burnt to get rid of any impediment to the security people’s view. Across where there were residences that had a view of the event. My new pal at the Tusker bar told me that those who lived there had been asked to vacate and there were just security personal with long sight rifles ready for any eventualities. The place was tighter that a drum security wise. The only terrorist who would do damage here would be a dude who ate several cans of beans and pulled a suicide bombing that would assault the nostrils of the people present. It didn't look like the security guys had prepared for this kind of an attack and they should pull up their socks. During the week before the event, they should have asked Nakumatt to withdraw all Kenylon beans in stock during the event.

So we drunk cold Tuskers at this pub and nattered on about the upcoming event and who will win the election and how we were proud of being at this event and was Florida closed tonight as the rumors were going around? The usual stuff strangers who meet in pubs talk about. Around 2pm we decided to come closer to the event and I was suddenly wishing I had checked in a bit earlier. The place was huko jam packed you would think they were offering free cash or something bwana. It was a sight to watch I kid you not. I eventually made it to the only place with a smaller crowd of people. This was at the starting point of the race. It was a great place to watch as the teams came down and prepared to run the race of their lives. I was in a group of hecklers and whenever any team passed we would cheer and jeer them. When some dudes from Portugal passed a shout of “Jose Morinho!” and “Christiano Ronaldo!” was heard from us. When a Canadian passed we reminded her that we kicked their ass in cricket and also could she please say eh Canadian style (which she kindly did). When the Ethiopian team passed we were demanding to see Bekele. When some South African passed a dude shouted amaaaandla! It was all good fun. The greatest cheers was reserved for the Kenyan teams as we would all go wild cheering them and I was singing the National anthem at one point with the dude next to me. Those kinds of experiences will bring tears to your eyes.

The only problem for me was the restraints they had. They had used barbed wire to keep us out and eventually it was affecting those of us at the front. I watched three races starting - junior women and men and senior men - but had to leave when I was cut by that barbed wire. I had to leave as my hand was bleeding profusely and the guys next to me kindly asked me to get some assistance. I took off to the Florida place nearby and cleaned up and taped my hand the best I could do and then headed back to the action. I was a bit distracted and missed the beginning of the senior men’s race. Some dude dressed in quasi military uniform was doing this street comedian where he would imitate soldiers marching at a parade that was leaving us in stitches.

I decided to check into this Florida place next to the track where I could watch part of the race and watch the race on TV live (KBC!). While here we were watching the racers doing the necessary and running their hearts out. In front of me was this bunch from Ethiopia carrying Ethiopian flags and shouting at the TV for Bekele to go faster. That was weird. I joined the crowds shouting for the Kenyans to do some damage to the nefarious Bekele and they looked to be keeping up. Then a dude came from nowhere and took off with Bekele and the Kenyan team in hot pursuit. Eventually it was only Bekele and this fellow who we were hearing was from Eritrea. Bekele was at his shoulder and pushing him and we could tell it was only some time before he passed the Eritrean which he did. Even as he did this the Kenyans in that joint were shouting for that Eritrean to run. Run! Kimbia! Enda! Enda! Go! Go! You’d think that Eritrea was a province of Kenya at that rate. Off course I was one of those Kenyans screaming my head off.

Bekele was pulling away from the Eritrean and I was feeling bad. But then our Eritrean got a second wind and ran at Bekele again and started catching up. And the excitement started increasing. There was a great shout when Bekele was passed by the fellow and he started giving Bekele some space. We couldn't believe it. We started shouting for this dude to run faster as we all know Bekele has one of the meanest finishing kicks in long distance running. We weren't leaving anything to chance. But it was to get better. Bekele stopped and got off the track. Sweet bliss! There was screaming and hugging and cerebrations around the whole place. The emotion that was being felt at this time left me choking. People were who didn't know each other were hugging and jumping and down. I saw some dudes outside rolling around the grass. A dude was lying on his back with his limbs in the air. Another was screaming ODM Kenya! ODM Kenya! The joy being felt in that space could best be described by a better writer... Ernest Hemingway, Joseph Heller... It was a palpable thing that one could touch. I have never being so happy to see a dude crash out of a race. The Ethiopians wisely kept their flag away from the Kenyan wrath. Eventually they brought it out and started cheering their brother from Eritrea. Hey I have no beef with them Eritreans. What's losing one race to some dude you’ve never heard off?

Eventually the Eritrean won and Kenyans got number two to number seven. Which is not a bad return. Bekele lost and we won the team title as everyone expected. A good evening was had I kid you not. And I even got to taste mnazi for the first time. I eventually found myself at Bobs and ran in Geoffrey Rono my Safcom pal and Timo who is now with Kenchic.

Mombasa beat bloody Bekele. Let’s savor the Moment. It doesn't happen often.

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