A roadblock was typically the largest rocks found, burning car tyres, any large pieces of timber that could be found, all piled on the road causing you to come to a complete stop, then navigate obstacles by making right hand, left hand turns. Mobs of mainly men sat by these roadblocks stopping every piece of traffic. When the matatus (Kenyan transport buses that stuff as many people into their seats as possible and race from town to town) stopped operating between Iten and Eldoret you knew things were rough on the road. There are no insurance plans in Kenya – if you don’t work often you don’t eat. The buses were forced to turn round by the roadblock bandits.

All flights to Eldoret had been cancelled due to safety alerts, but somehow Lornah (who I can not speak highly enough about) persuaded the owner of a Jet company to send a plane from Nairobi. The airport was jammed full of people trying to escape, so filling the plane would not be a problem. Even as the prices began to hike up with the old supply & demand routine.

Only three people arrived on the plane that was sent from Nairobi – Katwa, the lawyer for William Rutto who many speculated would have been Prime Minister if Raila had won, and his two children. Lornah had fixed for them to able to travel, and we gave them a ride back to Iten. After seeing Douglas & Co off.

Driving back to Iten the roadblocks became more frequent. What is done; car tires are placed in the center of the road and set alight. Either side the biggest boulders found are placed in the road so no car can pass. When a car comes it is forced to stop and a few hundred drunken angry men quickly surround you. Most armed and nearly all with hand sized stones to pelt the vehicle if you try to drive through. How effective are these? The Iten police car was stopped, drained of its fuel and supplies after being tilted on its side, and only then allowed to pass. The numbers are so great that even the police can’t manage to control the situation. A police officer told me, "We try to befriend the mob, tell them what a good job they are doing. The numbers are too great for us to do anything; this is anarchy."

On the way back to Iten we were following Shaheen’s (World record holder steeplechase) white SUV. We had met him at the supermarket in Eldoret which had opened for just one hour for fear of being looted. The mob was now out and immediately stopped his car. Our car looks identical to a police car, so as we approached they left Shaheen’s vehicle. Realizing we weren’t the police they got more interested in our car, within seconds they had surrounded the car and were pulling open the doors and trying to get John and I out. John, who was the driver, had his door opened wide by the mob; he was half in and half out. They opened the rear seat doors where Katwa’s children and he were seated. The stench of alcohol was gross. People were pulling my arm trying to drag me out, and I was telling John, “Drive John, drive, drive… C’mon on,” as more people were gathering round the car. I was shouting a few Kalenjin words through the window to the mob “A puh nu U (I’m from here/ phonetically written).” John was afraid we’d be stoned if we did drive… They were trying to pull me from the car shouting ‘white man, money, you!’ and other words I did not understand. We inched forward, with John shouting to the mob, “He (me) is one of ours, he is one of ours, he is a Kenyan.” Slowly, too slowly, and then, at last, we managed to get away.

How serious could this have been? On the way to the airport Douglas was in the car and all the anger is against the Kikuyu tribe – an example of a story we had heard earlier that day; a group of grown men had been surrounded by the other tribe, beaten up senseless, and then circumcised in a blood brawl. We were in the area of tribal racism – Douglas is a Kikuyu. If that mob had found Douglas in the car we simply would not have driven through – he had been in this exact same spot when we had driven in the opposite direction two hours ago!

When we got back to the camp it was announced that Kibaki had won the Presidency; the news was greeted with fear by the newsreaders. Even the press who had been invited to the State house to cover the elections were escorted out by military police before the decision was announced. Kenya is on the lip of civil war. Raila, the main opposition leader, had announced that he had won – he is the people’s favorite, thus now he was inciting the mobs around Kenya by claiming rigging. All the stores were closing up in lieu of expected looting and rioting. Things are not looking good.

The night of the 30th all the trouble began. We were all at the camp when we heard yelling, screaming and hysterical wailing. The wailing I heard was nothing like you hear when people are marching complaining about George Bush, no, no, this was real spine chilling wailing. The type that locks you in a chill.

News came in that a big angry mob was coming our way. The mission of the mob was to kill all the Kikuyu people in town and burn their houses and properties, although at the time we had absolutely no idea what their agenda was. Quickly flames shot up as a house nearby to us was torched. The skies, usually black as coal, now blazed Orange. We could not tell if they had stopped at the house, or were moving closer. We locked the gates of the camp and waited, we turned all the lights out to make the place less conspicuous. Seeing the flames getting closer we opened the gate padlock and Pieter and I went out to get some valuables and move them just in case our building caught fire. It was crazy and very frightening. We wisely had kept the foreigners at the camp inside in the main dining room, out of sight.

News trickled back that the police, unable to do anything, were amongst the mob and letting the houses be burned. A terrified woman of 40-something years came to the gates, it was a Kikuyu woman who lives next door and was married to a Kalenjin police officer; she came inside for protection and sat in the dining room. Poor thing must have been sure that her house would be next to be torched; sweat tricked down her stone cold face, her body was shaking. One can only imagine what she was thinking, knowing what a mob would do to her if they found her. I tried to cheer her up by telling her it’d blow over soon, it did not work.

Any house or business that was owned by a Kikuyu was to be burned to the ground; that was the village consensus. One athlete stepped in front of the Kikuyu and elite marathon runner Jason Mbote’s house and yelled to the mob, “Don’t burn it, he has just sold the property to a Kalenjin runner!” It was enough to save the house.

Gunfire came and the crowd became quieter. We wondered what was happening. Was it the police or the mob that had the weapons? Iten burned and in all directions the horizons were burning too. The gunfire continued. Word came back that you could not get along the road; it was completely blocked in all directions. Even on the other side of the valley, as far as the eye could see, I saw a huge fire blazing and many smaller ones. I asked a man where it was, he told me that it was a forest that a group of Kikuyu’s had ran into to escape the fury. So the Kalenjin chasers, with machetes ready, had surrounded the forest and set the place on fire to burn the people alive. Anyone who tried to escape, or for that fact not escape but be found, would be killed by the knife. A friend called and asked if everything was okay, when saying yes he asked, “Then what is that sound I can hear?” At least the gunfire was dispersing the crowd.

Stories that could be taken from the Hitler era keep flowing in; another friend rushed home, 20-miles on foot, because of hearing that trouble was close to his father's home. When he got home he heard that the mob near his house were coming to lynch a next-door neighbor, good man and a lifetime friend… but a Kikuyu. They wanted to hang the man and had surrounded the area. So my friend’s father hid the Kikuyu in the ceiling of the house so when the Mob came and search both his and the Kikuyu’s house the man could not be found.

To drown out the sounds from outside I took the guitar and began to sing and strum, the Kenyan woman soon joined in, and then after the foreigners; it was not long before the whole room was singing and nothing outside with the hysterical cries and wails could be heard.

Strange enough prior to this trouble the riots had begun in Eldoret a few hours before. I invited Claudio up to Iten as I thought it would be safer here; well that lasted only a couple of hours--he stayed in his house alone. He had bought a refridgerator for a friend who was getting married, and as the friend had not picked up the apparatus, he pulled it to block the door and just waited till a police escort came to drive him to the airport a couple of days later. Claudio is the resident coach for Dr. Rosa’s team, now that the Doctor himself is very rarely in Kenya. He was the lone member of the Rosa organization in Kenya at this time of the riots.

On the morning of the 31st we heard that at 11 o’clock the trouble would start again. No one went running in the morning and there were many pale faces at the breakfast table. At 10 it had started. This time the mob was as close as the top of the driveway. Some went to make sure nothing remained of the houses that had been burned; others went to start new fires, or to loot. The gunfire came quicker this time; the police were responding. A large mob gathered outside the gates of the police station; last night, it was rumored, someone had been shot and wounded, then arrested – they wanted his release. No police were hurt; they were now staying the right side of their protective iron gates, locking themselves in. I talked to a friend who said that the goal of the mob was to overthrow the police and kill all the Kikuyu’s who had taken refuge in the Police compound. This was a story all around Kenya; refugees were gathering at stations to avoid what the Nobel Prize winner Wangari Maathai was calling ethnic cleansing. We heard that Tegla Loroupe had been airlifted out of Kenya, over to Europe.

January the first—Eldoret is burning, gunfire is everywhere, and a church is torched with women and children inside. As the flames broke open the wooden doorway some of the people, who had not roasted to death, managed to break out. However the mob outside hacked the survivors to death with machetes and threw the children back in the fire. The news shocked everyone, and faces fell like lead of everyone. I can not forget how when the news came of this event nobody even spoke in the room. It was like, “Okay, now there is no reason, no limit. The mob will stop at nothing.” We were all in shock. I don’t think ever in history had a full church been barricaded up and set on fire with the intent to burn the congregation. I felt sick.

Kenyans are far more religious than any other nation I have ever visited; but this meant there was no longer any line to break – no rules.

Suddenly reports came of body hacking left, right and center. One of my friends told me that where she lived a Kikuyu man had ran away from his house into a tree—so three Kalenjin’s burned the tree till he appeared from the blaze falling from the branches. Then they hacked the man to death. The body was just left on the ground. T V reports confirmed the left bodies; you could see them all over.

Monicah phoned to Lornah and said there are dead bodies everywhere in the Burnt Forest where she also was, "Who will clean them up? The Kalenjins' won't bury a Kikuyu and there are no Kikuyu's left around to bury their dead. They are busy running for their lives." Just off the numbers we hear you can tell the whole scenario is being greatly underplayed. Remember the news is run by one of the two parties.
We watch the news on television – it shows a man running down the street being chased by a group of assailants; the man gets caught. The camera shows the first blow as the machete slices the man’s back. The camera moves away as we are left to imagine the rest. From someone who been attacked with a machete I can tell you it is extremely painful. I am guessing this man is now not alive to see the broadcast.

Pieter received a phone call from Jos Creemers who is the local unofficial Dutch Ambassador; it was to be organized that a plane was coming to evacuate all Dutch citizens from the area. If there were room on the plane then other nationalities would be allowed to go, but Dutch would of course take priority. Lornah at once started to organize everyone’s travel plans with Singita, the world’s best travel agent who is based in Nairobi. The two worked tirelessly – another issue was it was impossible for us to drive them to the airport; the mob were looting cars and if a convoy of foreigners with suitcases came along then forget it, so Lornah had to talk to the Police and persuade them to provide a heavily armed escort. At first they were not very willing, but Lornah was persuasive by telling them we could buy some food on the return trip.

January the second. It was a sad morning as armed police, with three vehicles & some army people, entered the compound to escort the foreigners to Eldoret Airport.
Jeroen, the Dutch physio who is living here (his tactful parting words to me, “It’s okay for you, you probably have some death wish to die in Africa.”) Pim, Matthias, Arjan (who had arrived in Iten only hours before!) and Inga, all Dutch, were all going. John and Liz the Irish from Wexford, Hannah the Dutch daughter of Gerard an athlete’s agent, and Hugo van der Broek (Hilda's boyfriend) all going too – the Simba had done wonders to sort everything. Later there were some very poignant pictures on the Dutch running web site of the group being transported off in the convoy.

We loaded up the land rover with the baggage and the foreigners, and then the police land rovers before and behind, complete with the officers from the police and the army with sub machine guns. It was very sad moment, especially when some of the foreigners started to cry. What a way to leave, it should never happen. It was surreal standing there, again a chapter from a film as the scene looked like some escaped convict transportation.

Lucia Kimani, a Kikuyu runner who was hiding out at the camp, wanted to leave with the Police convoy. It seemed logical to take her, but the police blankly refused. They said it simply was not safe, and they would not allow it. Lucia would have been dragged from the convoy and the Police would not have been able to stop it—and that would have been the best scenario; the police said it would anger the mob and they then might attack everyone else. The Officer in charge reasoned that the mobs would not mind the evacuation of foreigners but right now the tension was too high to risk taking any Kikuyu’s, even though Lucia herself asked to lie hidden on the Land rover floor. "They will stop and search, yes, of course, no, it is too dangerous."
On the return John the driver told us she would have been discovered. She remained behind, poor girl was petrified. She stood trembling as the vehicles left, Pieter, Lornah and I remained with her. Hilda Kibet was also staying although she had a Dutch passport. I felt really sorry for Lucia who had packed and thought that she would be allowed to travel having a Bosnian passport (since getting married). No one knew she was here, but she could get discovered at any day.

Brave Lucia, a Kikuyu stuck right in the Kalenjin hotbed puts on a brave face.

There were some Irish athletes staying in the Hotel Sitet down the road, they had been at the gym and watched from down there as the convoy pulled away. Shortly afterwards they went straight to the police to see if they could also get an escort out of Iten. It was arranged straightaway, and they too disappeared.

The plan is if things got worse I will move from the camp to Pieter and Lornah’s house where they are that is in a safer location hidden along the escarpment, which is where Hilda is staying too. As it is I will remain at the camp with the Kenyan girls and John the driver. Samson Chebii has also come to stay. Why? because his house was one of the ones burnt down. He had a Kikuyu landlord.

The 30km route to Eldoret was peppered with mob roadblocks and to transport the people it was necessary to have such a convoy with armed police. You could forget trying to get anywhere in a private car now.

One very well known runner had a tank of gasoline in his pick up truck, "I have been practicing driving backwards in my compound as fast as I can go." In any ordinary time this would have been a funny situation, but at the moment it was too well understood.

The military and riot police, GSU, have secured Eldoret; what this means is they have surrounded the town so you can’t get in or out. If you walk on the street you risk being shot. Mary, who works at Bata on Odinga St, tells us somehow you just know not to go out. If you leave your home and miraculously avoid the bullets you risk coming back to flames/and or empty looted cupboards.

However it is the countryside all around Eldoret where the worst of the trouble is, as here is where the Kalenjins are forming large mobs to attack. There is no way the army can secure all these areas, as the land is too large. We watch the news and dead bodies with flies buzzing over them are a normal sight.

We see an aerial shot on the evening news of outside Eldoret; it is about ten km from where we live in a place known as Jerusalem. You see bunches of youth running over the fields, behind them a trail of burnt houses. This is (bad) Kenyan running! These youths are flying over the fields with torches. A crisis center is shown; tons of women are being raped. Many in their actual homes when husbands are held at knife point. Sheer madness has taken over Kenya, and it is right here on our doorstep.

The other night a mother arrived from Eldoret with a baby and five children, she had had to run away and was now homeless. The children had seen people getting sliced with the panga knives to death, and homes being set on fire. They were very quiet and sat in silence eating a slice of bread and drinking tea. No crying, no complaining, just sitting with stony faces. I tried to make them forget the things they had seen by showing them (for the first time) a digital camera and video, and how you can ‘capture’ yourself (which they found hysterical). Last night I played the guitar and Rose taught them how to dance and we had a three-hour music party and then a game of tag round the dining room. To see them laughing and smiling, singing and dancing is great. They are aged from three to eight and all girls. They all knew the words to the song Jambo Jambo! They now come running and singing into the dining room at last with smiling faces.

Lucia of course also remains hidden from sight; It is very easy to Kalenjin’s to recognize the facial attributes of a Kikuyu and she would have been lynched if she took a stroll into town. She is training for Dubai, or trying to train at least. During the daytime she stays in her room. A couple of the young kids are Kikuyu’s. If people hear we have Kikuyu’s they can become incensed; hence the Police Station being full of Kikuyu’s. In the daytime they pretty much hide round the back of the camp, especially if anyone comes to the camp. I am sure they are safe but you never know.

The sad news came through the other night that the rumors were confirmed; Former athlete Lucas Sang, 45, had been killed. Moses Tanui’s best friend. The story was horrific of the actual death. Your stomach churned on hearing what had happened. When I heard on the night of the first I thought it was not true, but the story was confirmed coming from all directions. Furthermore the father of Nixon Kiprotich, a very old man, had also been killed in clashes. In an unrelated incident William Kiplagat’s, a former winner of Amsterdam and a 2:06 marathon runner, wife died from a long illness. But due to the troubles they can’t transport the body by road, it'll have to be airlifted from Nairobi. Nobody is having life easy.

The actual arrows being used to shoot... people!

One of the worst things is an information breakdown. Most of the time we have no idea what is going on. We don’t have any telephone credits and since all the shops have long since closed—so we cannot call. There is no Internet café so we rely on delayed messages on the television. When you hear gunshots or an angry mob, or when you see tree trunks lying across the road with 500-1,000 angry men you have no idea what is happening. I am so used to checking out news on the Internet that this is a new world. When Pieter and I were scurrying on the back roads the other day I felt like I was in a movie about some African dictator with a country’s overthrow.

Politics? If King Solomon was around neither man would be president; how can so much killing be going on with neither one of them coming out on television and giving an emotional plea to stop the blood shed and saying that they are willing to resolve this matter through peace? For the last few days Kibaki has been completely silent on any matter!

Iten is a slumberous village of no apparent industry on the ledge of the Rift Valley. The only action usually is an alarmingly large number of fast moving legs as it is the capital center of Kenyan Running. Now, the dirt paths are bare--no runner in sight. You walk cautiously and everyone has anticipated fear on his or her face. You round the corner and there behind the bush are people, you have no idea what their plan or motive is, but when you see a panga in their hand, you can never be sure if they are carrying for defense or attack.

On the 3rd of January it looked peaceful in Iten, almost a ghost town. No cars were being driven as the fuel had long since run out, besides roadblocks stopped everything anyway so nobody was trying to get anywhere. Spooky to see this road with no traffic. Ordinary people walked along the road with large machetes and sticks as if it was the norm; nobody was unarmed. On the Sawmill road five men were standing, and Rebby had told me these were the ones stopping people to ask them if they were true Kalenjins’—they had knifes.

Finally when a vehicle came, an old pick up, it was packed full, really full, of young men dressed in dirty clothes with knives and sticks brandished in their hands going down to the forest where it was rumored the warriors were grouped planning their next move. It looked like a clip from the movie Blood Diamond. The pick-up crawled along the road, as it was so overloaded, I was worried they were going to stop and ask me for funds as they were doing with the locals. Or maybe even decide that today was the day to start fighting foreigners.

I mean the Kalenjin move to drive the Kikuyus from the land was that they said the Kikuyus received the land from the first Kenyan Government when Jomo Kenyatta had given the lands to his tribespeople as gifts of thanks for placing him in power. Well prior to that who stole all the lands from the Kenyans? The white people.

I asked a few people who were around on the side of the road what was the latest news, and it was not good. The mob, two kilometers from where we were, now had eight AK-47’s at least. The mob had been waiting for these guns to arrive from the Marakwets, the neighboring tribe. One international athlete had his car commandeered for transporting goods. When he got down to the forest he saw what he was transporting, "Imagine, these guys knew how to use the guns too."

The athletes are suffering; if you try running in Iten people yell, “Why are you running when the country is burning?” A few of the best runners in Iten are getting up very early in the morning and running about their homes, out and back, not venturing far.

I called on Katui and met the world champion Luke Kibet. Luke had a big wound on the back of his head where the Kikuyu’s had stoned him, I took a photo on my cell phone (see above) so the wound is somewhat unclear but you can see the bandage. Katui, the tall athlete to the right of shot, was skinning an Andibear – a very rare animal that I have never seen before. It has paws, but a face of a pig, and is brown with a foot long thick tail. The Kalenjin believe very much in the mysterious powers of this animal. The blood on Luke's hands below are from the beast!

Back at the camp, later when I was relaxing with Starbucks over a cup of coffee, suddenly Barnabas came running in to the compound with panic. Barnabas, a local matatu driver who is now of course out of work with no means of transporting people, came running with fear in his eyes and this man was no runner, “They’re coming, coming. Lock the camp, move all the chairs from the garden, and any clothes that can be seen… hide inside!” We rushed outside and moved all the things that showed life from the garden, and sure enough you could hear screams and high pitched yells of a large mob coming our way.

We had no idea what they wanted, my command of the Kalenjin language is very poor, but I did understand the chant of Kill Kill Kill (“Baar Baar Baar”) and I did not want to stay to find out who were the intended victims. Pieter and I slipped down the back path, through the maize fields, and aimed for the escarpment; one to get out of the danger zone, and number two to try and find a safe viewing point to see exactly what was happening. We met Shaheen, world record holder in the Steeple, on the path, “It has been announced that America is supporting Kibaki, that is why everyone is fighting. Europe is fighting for Raila, but America has announced its support for Kibaki.”
If this had been true it would have been terrible news for me. As I am living in America many people in Iten think I am coming from American and of course then obviously beholdant for anything that George Bush would say. Like the Kikuyu’s who are being hacked to death here for being a member of a certain tribe the same thing would happen to Americans, someone in the mob could call out death to Americans, let’s chase then out of town… and boom. Luckily we know (or guess) it is not true, but Shaheen is not convinced and tries to convince us so. I have a few doubts, but try to think positive thoughts. The good news, through some nifty field cutting, backroads, and newly discovered paths, no mob is behind us.

We also met Caroline Kiptoo walking along with an urn of milk, a fine athlete who has recently disappeared from the racing scene, and then Muchke the elder. He was taking the back roads as he said the Mob was recruiting all the young men from the houses along any route that they passed. “They come to the house and take you!”

Before we left the camp John, the driver, had just heard that his two sons were out walking with his neighbor that morning and a Kikuyu car drove past and shot blindly from the car window – the neighbor was killed. Pieter and I walked about assessing the scene; from a distance we watched the mob. It is always an odd situation because we had no clue what was going on – we later found out that the Kalenjin were storming the Police station to demand the release of the Kalenjin women who are married to Kikuyu men and the children who were taking shelter there. They did not want the Kalenjin kids to be moved to Kikuyu lands where they might be killed. The police met their demands and agreed the children would be released.

Watching the news we heard that two more churches had been torched, though at least they had not captured the people inside the churches before setting them alight as they had done in Eldoret. These churches were in Kibera, one near a place called Olympic where I had been only 10-days before setting a course for the Shoe4Africa race. Terrible scenes were shown on the TV from there – everyone attacking one another, the place surrounded by the army to stop anyone getting out and with no food, sanitation or water inside things were getting very desperate. The Red Cross came on the news imploring for the vigilante groups to let them get aid to what they were calling Africa’s largest humanitarian crisis. In the space of a few days 75,000 people were now homeless, and an estimated 25,000 were in refugee camps lucky if they were getting a meal a day. We knew the numbers were much, much higher.

In Police stations all over the place Kikuyu’s are taking refuge. Many are married to Kalenjins’, so the spouses were also there. Looting is still commonplace and it is not surprising as the shops/stores have been closed for days in this area. You simply cannot buy anything – fuel, scratch cards to make phone calls (a 95% of the Rift Valley relies on this method of phone calling) or even food. We keep our phone batteries charged as someone can call you, but it is impossible to dial a number. I got 100-shillings credit, enough for about four local calls of a few minutes, from a friend… but as soon as I get it someone comes up to me and asks to use it, “My brother is missing, he is a Kalenjin hiding in a Kikuyu area and I have no word if he has escaped.” Of course you give up your calls.

Late at night I hear shouts and calls, so I creep out in the dark to the top of the road. A group are putting up a roadblock and setting something alight to put in the road. They are shouting, “ODM” that acronym of the Raila party (Orange Democratic Movement). It does not look so troublesome as there are no more than thirty or so people.

Abu comes into the camp, "There is a situation. There is a woman being hassled by a group of men." he disappears quickly out.

The 4th of January. Out running I met a man walking back from Eldoret, he has a huge wound on his left arm, with his right he carries a broken plank of wood for protection. He has walked twenty miles waiting until the blanket of the night for safety. I come back from the run and someone comes up to me and asks me ‘Are you called the Toby Tanser’ it is a young runner who I talked to at a school a few years back, and he has now become a runner, he tells me a story I have forgot but told him, it sounded like good advice so I tried to remember it now for myself! I also hear my friend Bush (Solomon) who won Amsterdam last year in 2:08 now has an Achilles injury.

Seven trucks of Army men came into Iten early this morning. At first I would think this is good, a sign of safety, but now I think that it is a sign that there is going to be trouble coming. I go and ask one of the runners what is happening, he tells me that the mob have been recruiting and asking for food. Each household has been asked to assist to give food and water, and all the men are now asked to join the cause, not just the fit ones. I talk with Hilda and she is telling her brother, who is out near her parents rural home, to not join the mobs; a wise move.

At the breakfast table one of Kalenjin women starts arguing, she says all Kikuyu’s should be slaughtered as they are the cause of all these troubles, saying that they are nothing but trouble makers. She starts her talk in the Kalenjin tongue, then switches to the swahili language with a twisted purpose. The Kikuyu woman, who understands swahili, of course retaliates, and we quickly have to start calming things down. The Kalenjin woman, who goes to church each Sunday and usually quotes the bible with every other sentence, shouts out, “It is good to stick to your principles, they should be killed.” This is the voice of a normal person?
Abu, a Kalenjin, looks across the table – he later says, “I wanted to slap that Kalenjin woman for saying that.” Ditto everyone else at the table. The Kalenjin woman's days are numbered at the camp, but she can not be told to leave now as if she does she might in spite tell others about the Kikuyu woman staying here.

All news is now on Nairobi; wondering when the next ODM protest march is going to be, it was supposed to be yesterday, but it turned out to be a flop, as riot police did not let the protesters band together. I hear that the mob in Iten are seriously considering going to Nairobi – they must be nuts as they’ll have to go on foot as there is no fuel and way too many of them. However the thought is that all people should march on Nairobi to unite, and fight.

By lunchtime on the 4th it seems that Iten will be restored to its peaceful setting. The police are planning on moving the last of the refugees out of their compound, and there is no sight of the angry mob. There is one trouble spot that may cause problem, ten kilometers from Eldoret, over one thousand men gathered. Apparently the mob here in Iten has now set about abiding to some rules. No looting, and no drunkards. All the alcohol was confiscated and poured into a large barrel. Anyone who was drunk was dunked in a big barrel of the local brew to teach them a lesson. The brew is called ‘Soup of the maize’ as it is a home brewed concoction made from the field.

The stores still remain closed; we can’t buy a thing. The power again goes out; for the last few days we get power, then no power like the swings of a yo-yo. Yesterday for lunch William Koila, an old friend of mine from the mid nineties when he used to be a top 800m runner and live on the Euro circuit dropped by – he is now the head of the Kenya Power for this region. He fixed the power for us. He told us if it goes again he will tap the power line to the next village and make ours a priority. He reminds me of days when, as athletes, we both lived on chapattis and ran up and down hills all day only kilometers from where we both sit now shaking our heads at what is happening. Gilbert Koech, whose wife Edna Kiplagat (another one I have known for a number of years) also came by to visit.

Normality? It looks so! The only thing now is no drinking water; but after all, that is normal! I received credit on my phone, kindly Douglas Wakiihuri had called my number and when I explained to him I could not call out he sent enough funds to make an emergency call, he also invited me to stay at his place in Nairobi where apparently things were calm. "If you can get there of course..." he adds. Right!

The task today was to get Lucia out of the camp. So first she, Naomi and Dorcas walked to the police station as if out for a stroll, three Kenyan girls wandering along the road not drawing attention. Then Abu and Samson followed behind a few minutes later with the luggage so as not to raise suspicion – two Kenyan local boys carrying a couple of packs would not raise an eyebrow – everyone was on the move now. Then lastly came Pieter and I. This way we tried to create no attention.

When Pieter and I got to the station we discovered that the girls had not managed to get inside the gates of the police compound. As Lucia is a Kikuyu this was very necessary with the utmost of speed – luckily being a foreigner has its advantages. We marched up to the gates, in a matter of seconds got everyone quickly inside and out of danger.

Once inside the compound we ran into Dan Makori, brother to Elias from the newspaper—he is from the Kisii tribe but felt it unsafe to be in this area when driving through the week before so had been living in the Police compound with his wife the poor thing. Time would show he was right as the Kalenjins were now attacking this tribe. Also we found a Swedish boy who was living in the Police compound, moving in after the fracas broke out, he looked terribly nervous and very sacred… and there were about 400 Kikuyu’s aimlessly standing around. The police however were great, very positive, and accommodating the best they could. The Swedish boy told me he did not think he would be coming back to Kenya.

There was an army truck, a civilian truck, and a Police land rover to escort about twenty Kikuyu’s back in the direction of Nairobi. For Lucia and Dan, and his wife, we were sending them to the Eldoret Airport so they could fly, far safer than the road. All the others had to go by road – each day we heard horrific stories about trucks with Kikuyus being attacked by the roadblock mobs, despite police escorts. It was a numbers game. We heard the airline had increased its prices from 5300 to 8400 shillings!

Talk about heavily guarded! One Army man sat on top of the truck over the drivers' cabin with a machine gun and bullet belts around his body like Pancho Villa, everywhere else the police and army men held submachine guns. We had heard that yesterday a similar army truck had been attacked from the road to Nakuru from Eldoret – three soldiers had been brutally killed in this raid, so they were taking no chances. The Boss of the police force in Iten, a nice woman, told us that the Iten Police had not suffered even an injury and they had a great operation here that was always in control. When she found out I was not leaving Iten she told me if I needed a police escort for anything just to give her a call. They have been a great comfort I can tell you.

The saddest scene for me of the day was a field in the compound where all the Kikuyu young children stood watching; it was not their day to leave. They were nearly all dressed in their Sunday best Satin dresses and shirts; a clear sign that they had hurriedly had to leave their homes carrying no luggage, and had had to quickly escape not able to carry any possessions save what they wore. My mind was wandering imaging the parents quickly telling them to dress in their best clothes before escaping. It was too much to think about.

When watching the few Kikuyu’s who were now leaving the compound climb into the truck none had any luggage either. We hugged Lucia goodbye and told her to lay low on the journey to Eldoret that I am sure was terrifying for her. Even some of the armed policemen were trembling. I told her to sit next to a big guy with a huge guy, he’d make a good cushion.

A nice ending was Lucia arrived safe, and a week later traveled to Dubai where she amazingly placed tenth at the Marathon winning $10,000.

Pieter and I then took the vehicle of Dan’s that he had been forced to abandon to Pieter’s house for safekeeping. Also I wanted to drop in on Hilda. Today was the birthday of Sleepy Sylvia’s daughter and I had a running watch to give her as a present; she’s only three, but… Hilda said she had been to Iten to try and buy some Sodas for a party but had been wearing trousers and was advised that she should turn back. The men did not want to see women in trousers--it was a mob decision, one of the many new rules that they now had everyone abiding to. This was confirmed by the women at the market, so Hilda made a U-turn; she was rightly scared. "I tried to do a track session yesterday," she told, "But I got nervous after a lap or two, so I left..." it was the sentiment of all.

We then walked back to the camp, Pieter telling me he has never walked so much in his life these past few days. Joseph Cheromei called and told me that he was waiting to say Hi back at the camp gate, and sure enough when we got there he was at the roadside, his usual self. Cheromei, brother to Lydia, is an integral link to Kenyan athletics being the ground man for Gianni DeMadonna. He was no mean runner himself; both he and his brother ran 2:10 marathon back in the late 1980’s.

Cheromei was telling us that he had been stopped many times on the roads and asked for things, or told he had to give things before being allowed to proceed. His phone rang and it was Renato Canova, the Italian coach, asking if it was safe to come now to the Rift Valley. Cheromei told him to come up in a few days when things should have calmed down whilst telling us which side roads he was using to snake his way through the countryside in safety. “After a few roadblocks you have nothing left to give anyway!”
Also standing by were Peter Limoria and Helen Kirop who had come to see Pieter – Pieter took Helen from being a 2:35 runner to 2:26, she then left for Gianni, and no he had no idea why she was back for visiting and told her to come back another day.

Pieter got a text message from Inga who was now back in Holland, she thanked Starbucks and the Simba for their extreme care and handling, and she said the gravity of the whole situation did not properly sink in till she had returned back home. Pieter told me that Mary, Queen of the NYRR, had also texted with best wishes.

After lunch I was talking to Joanne, a Kenyan girl, in the back garden with Pineapple (Dorcas another Kenyan) and laughing about how Dorcas was not allowed through the Police gates earlier that day, when we heard screaming – looking over the wall we saw a man being stoned by a group of people. By the looks of things a big stone hit him on the back of the head, bigger than the ones he was being pelted with; he let out a wail as the force of the rock smashed his head forward. As more people came the man took faster flight, bleeding but moving. His legs were stumbling but he wisely kept on moving. It was scary to see how quickly a couple of stone throwers had turned into a chasing mob -- luckily his flight was successful. Dorcas said, "I'm not going any-where!"

In the evening we all did a gym exercise together, Samson leading the class nearly killed me – I have never done a class like this in life, but I can image a few weeks of doing it would make one very strong. The Simba was telling of her training plan to get ready for Beijing. And Starbucks was asking what was for dinner… back to normal! After dinner, two of the little girls came up and tapped me on the back before their mother led them off to bed; their smiles were so warm.

I called Brother Colm to see how he was holding up during the crisis, he thought I’d left and told me someone from America had been calling him to see how I was. He was sitting tight, he was not leaving his compound. I am still hoping to get on the Internet soon to let friends in America know things are all right, but alas it is not possible – no phone credit for International calls and no Internet.

We watched the news, now the food shortage has begun – nobody has any food, or water. The Kikuyu’s have a huge migration back to the central provinces, and looting is still rampant in Mombasa. Unbelievably Eldoret is quiet now, and no churches are being burned. That is one view anyway, someone else tells something different. I call Sally Barsosio to check on her, all's fine for Sally thank goodness. Pieter is going to Holland now things look calmer, and KLM are going to send him Business Class--nice of them!

John Mutai is going to fetch Lornah’s sister, as the family is upcountry. First he is going home to see his children, the first time since this problem started; he has to drive through the still dangerous burnt forest area, then walk three or four ours through the bush to reach home. He is taking a bow and arrow with him in the front seat. I offer to go with him, but he declines the offer. “Don’t worry I can shoot well!” He draws the bow for effect.

January the 5th. Anyone who has ran in Iten, or visited will know how odd it is to run on the roads and not see one single runner until the last 100-meters of a training run. Some journalists called yesterday to run a story on how athletes are training during this phase of Kenyan history. The truth of the matter is people are not training. During the heavy troubles nobody was running but now people are cautiously starting to run, but hardly train. Not mentioning any names but there is a group here who has a training camp and they merely jog along a 500-meter road, and jog back. Talking to one of them, “You can be met by the mob and then you have to join them. They will not let you go.” So in a word, people run in the shadows, breath held in fear not hard running. I thought I would see more people today but not. I am sure when I talk to people later I will find that most got in some sort of a run, but we are all running in the hidden paths. Every time I meet any civilian when out running I greet first in the local tongue, and end the sentence with the Swahili word ‘Amani’ (peace) or ‘Imani’ (faith)– not taking any chances. I called Rita Jeptoo to see how she was, no running—but at least doing well. I tell her as soon as the road is safe I am coming to see her.

The main problem is water. You turn the taps (faucets) and nothing happens. Drinking water went a while ago, but we could boil the water collected by the rainfall in the tanks. Even Iten has some water supplies... but in the troubles everything has run dry! The odd thing was yesterday when we were inches from being completely dry an athlete called Samson was filling buckets of water to wash his running shoes – African logic, try to understand it. Anyway for me the washing part is now done in the dew. When I return from the run you take off your clothes and roll in the thick grass. After three turns you soap yourself, then continue for three more rollovers till clean — European logic!

Geoffrey Abuta flashes – this means he dials your telephone number and then hangs up. If you have no credit on the phone line you do this to alert the receiver to call you, if he, or she, has any credit. By luck Lornah gave me some credit last night. I still have not been able to reach my parents who are somewhere on holiday (and don’t have cell phones) and I did not bring the cell numbers of my brother or sisters. Probably good news, if I told them anything they'd still be worried. So I phone Geoffrey, he lives in Kibera. “Toby, my family wants to know when are you coming back to visit us?” I am like, Geoffrey, how are things there now (visiting Kibera being the last thought on my mind), “Well we have a few troubles still but we are hoping things will be getting better.”

I can only imagine what it must have been like to be cornered in to the walls of Kibera during this problem. Wow, imagine ethnic cleansing going on and you have all of Kenya’s tribes locked and cram packed into an area the size of Central Park with hot sun, flaring tempers, all its sanitation problems, no food and the red cross trying to throw in bundles of food because you can’t enter. Does Geoffrey mutter one word of complaint? Meet the Kenyan spirit. The weird Rama Karma thing is I was just thinking about Geoffrey – freaky.

It is really fun in the camp now, even though it is really deserted—we are only Rose Tanui, Dorcas (Pineapple), Joanne, Samson, and John Mutai. Very, very few, but a very tight knit bunch! We live around meal times.

After breakfast John went to pick up his father – imagine the father is 80-years old, was at home resting and three men came to attack him, they broke his arm, cut him with a knife, and he missed an arrow directed at him. He had tried to hide, but to no avail--he was dragged out to be beaten. He has been in Iten hospital until now, so John was driving him back home. Then Pineapple, Joanne, Rose and I washed the dining room floor and windows (Samson wouldn’t as it is not deemed a man’s job). Then it was over to the gym – usually you can find twenty people training there, but due to circumstances it was only Doris 'Sunflower' Changeiywo. So Doris had two personal instructors (Rose and I).

Doris was not pleased that we had to cancel the Shoe4Africa race, she won the first race and missed last year due to military training. The military training she described sounded very tough, like carrying a telegraph pole for two hours (obviously not alone!). Doris told us how a woman was chased from Iten center yesterday because she wore trousers. Daniel the-maasai-on-a bicycle dropped by and told us to expect peace until Tuesday (today is Saturday). “There will be something on Tuesday.” This was confirmed by Kiptum.

Rumor has it Augustine Choge was dragged out of a matatu and about to be lynched because they thought he was a Kikuyu at one of the roadblocks, he was okay when they discovered he was a nandi. I have no idea if this is a true story or not. I decide to visit to find out.

Watching the news Kibera is burning, I see the area, Kisuma Ndogo, up in flames -- this is near Geoffrey's shack. I call him,

(Sense of urgency) "Geoffrey, how's things?"
(Calm) "Not bad. How are you?"
(urgent) "Geoffrey I can see your place is burning."
(Calm) "We are hoping for better things soon."
Urgent "Geoffrey, are you sure you are okay?" (Hearing ominous sounds in the background.
(Calm)"Toby, Toby, don't worry about me, I will be ok. We are doing ok. Please be careful yourself."
Urgent "Geoffrey, there are people on the news running down your road with pangas (like machetes)."
Calm "Don't worry I won't go out in the street..."

I meet Willy Korir—another Kenyan success running story, he had some wins last year, but sadly broke his foot in a marathon and had to walk from 40km to the finish, even then he ran 2:13 in Italy. He is asking me about Kibera as his cousin lives there, he thinks the sports program will be a great idea. "If ever you need a place to stay in Kibera," he kindly offers.

January 06th—One of the big fears now is of the Kikuyu repercussions. Athletes are fearing to travel out of this district and the people of Iten are talking about what will happen if the Kikuyu return armed en masse. There are 8,000 refugees in the sacred heart church compound in Eldoret. Talking of compounds when we were taking Lucia from the camp to the Police we met Joseph Ngure, a sportswriter & coach at the Kip Keino camp – he was seeking safety at the Police, and as they loaded him into the Army vehicle he was asking, “When is the Shoe4Africa race going to be?” Brave man was going to return to the camp in Eldoret.

More sad news, the father of Paul Koech, the 26:36 10,000-man, has been killed. He was walking along when he was shot and killed. Paul ironically was in Darfur at the time with the peace keeping troops.

Burnt Forest still remains the country’s hot spot – nothing slowing down there, and the town looks like a cinder when we saw shots on the TV—it is 40km from here. Matthew Birir called up to ask what the roads are like as he wants to meet up on Monday, “Things are still somewhat bad near me,” he tells.

This is the first Sunday since the troubles. At the breakfast table Rose, Joanne, Pineapple, John and I discuss what we will do in the morning. Of course people are nervous about going to church considering people have been burnt alive in churches very close to here! But we are sure this would not happen in Iten. I suggest we go to a fireproof church, John tells us that we should go to one with corrugated iron so the pangas can’t cut through. We pluck up the refugee kids, and the cook from the camp (he told us he could not go as he had to prepare lunch, we said no problem food can wait for food) and then we all set off singing down the road. Along the way we meet Pieter & Lornah driving also to church – well Pieter is going to drop Lornah off; he has only been once to church, Lornah said he’d promised that if she won in Mombasa World cross he would go, and of course she did, so Pieter begrudingly went, "It was a bad bad day, I am sure because I went, so now I stay away!"

The church is the simplest building in the village you will find. There are no windows; the corrugated iron does not reach the ground. Wooden beams reach the floor and we sit on uneven wooden benches, in its basic-ness lies great beauty. There are about thirty people there and Lornah has been invited to give a sermon—she talks about peace and tribal understanding, in fact that is the theme of the whole morning.

She tells the congregation that she has heard we have been singing so much at the camp, so we have to go to the front and sing, two songs. Then again later in the service. Everyone joins us and the church rings with noise. Amazing how songs make everyone smile.

Pieter comes to pick us and drives us most of the way home, we walk the rest. Then he and Lornah later turn up for Lunch at the camp. He is going to fly to Holland this afternoon for a few days.
After lunch I walk around Iten and go and visit Irene Kwambai, I find her sitting knitting in her front garden. We talk at first about the troubles, she tells me that she was running and had to divert on the route as she came across three men, two with bows and arrows, and one with a panga. She says also when she was driving to Eldoret her car was stopped and men put a stick with a wire noose in the car checking for a head of a Kikuyu!

Then over tea we talk about the usual running stories, and her plans for the season. As the evening sun is setting we stroll through Iten and it is hard to imagine that so much trouble has befallen on the usually peaceful Kenya.

The phone trings (Well actually plays the tune of Alouette); it is Martin Lel, he is warning that something might be happening in Iten soon, “Watch out.” As I leave Irene I come across about fifteen men in the bush of the location field, heavily armed with ugly knifes and clubs/sticks – no this problem has not gone away. When I pass the group I look directly at the ground pretending I have not seen the men. There is an even larger group of men further along, but they appear to be standing listening to one man talk. Again, I just pretend I am looking for worms as my eyes don't leave my footprints. All the time you walk you are just waiting for something to be thrown at you, or worse.

Pieter texts from the road, “Hundreds of houses and shops burnt between Iten and Eldoret, looks like a war zone. Unbelievable."

January 7th--Starbucks texts (he has now flown out), he has had to go south via Dar Es Salaam (South) to get north to Holland as the KLM staff are not staying in Kenya. On the news the ODM party is now asking for nationwide protests tomorrow. Bad news, it was better for us when the one rally was planned for Nairobi. I was looking forward to all the villains marching off together 300-miles.

Iten this morning looked back to normal, people going about their business. The only thing different is the lack of runners—it reminds me of when I first came to Iten in 1995 and it was a small village with only a few cars and houses. I had lunch with the Simba then for the whole afternoon we sat and talked until the day was finished. Such is life in Kenya.

January 8th—Raila has called off, the day before of course, the nationwide rally. So it will go on as people in Kenya probably have already made their plans; besides people (I think from the consensus of talk) are rallying against the fact the elections were unfair, more than rallying for one man – they are saying that as Kenyans we will not stand for this. On finishing a run this morning, I took an athlete I am now coaching to the track, we came across absolutely no runners but a convey of police and army men. Mike Boit phoned in the morning to ask if I wanted to go to Nairobi with him tomorrow as he has a got a place with a police escort from Keses up in the Nandi Hills to Nairobi. Mike was later advised by the police not to travel, they thought it too dangerous for him.

Morning tea with Katui, he is getting ready to defend his title as the World Military Games XC Champ. Then the good news arrived that my motorcycle had arrived!

Mobile, and am now the terror of Iten… with no helmet, no right indicator, no front brake, and no lights I am hoping I don’t get stopped by the police. At least now there is a bit of gasoline. So I zipped round to check on the Simba, I was going to go with John in the Land Rover but instead I took my own wheels. I found the Simba with her legs up in the garden watching the birds—it is a hobby of hers to photograph them. We watched an eagle swoop overhead, hover, and then disappear down far into the Rift Valley.

After lunch I went to see Renato Canova (who has just arrived here) and chat with him – this guy is a mountain of knowledge and it is always a pleasure to see him and listen some more.

Then I drove into town to go and see Sleepy Sylvia. On the way I met Rebby Koech and chatted with her. It seems Iten is completely back to normal as the road blocks are now all completely gone.

January 9th—In the morning hours I must have met about 50-runners I knew; things are back to normal! After breakfast with Abu, Pineapple, Rose, Joanne, and John I drove into town to go and meet Gilbert Koech, who I had met on the morning run, but on the way was flagged down by Bush – Solomon Busendich ‘Bush’ had just returned from his Christmas vacation and then the no-travel zone that had hit everyone.

Bush also had an injury but looks better now—he is the king of the halves but recently, in 2006, also ran a great marathon. Also sitting in the car was Boniface, the coach of the Shoe4Africa/Moses Kiptanui training camp. Yapping with them, and just about to go for tea when John Litei came along (Commonwealth Games Bronze). So instead I drove John home on the motorbike and went for a soda at his house, and to meet his team of Maasai runners. On the way back I had arranged to met Rebby Koech so I turned into St. Patrick’s and bumped into Brother Colm, so first I talked with him about whatnots, then went and talked to Rebby who is concerned that training has been terrible due to the clashes, “I was running this way and a man with a panga (Machete) came running with a mattress on his head that he had no doubt looted, so I ran the other way, there was a man with a bow and an arrow… The next day six of us got caught by a group with pangas and they were asking, ‘Are any of you Kikuyu’s?’ and they asked us to greet them in Kalenjin to prove we were from this tribe!” Her goal is World Cross, “But no rain in Kenya for months and do you think Edinburgh will be dry??”

Then I drove home for lunch and taught Rose some more guitar lessons. I was going to see Sleepy Sylvia but somehow got diverted and ended up at the Simba’s house. The news is always a big deal here, and no one can now understand why Kibaki has formed his parliament – big Questions still to be answered. Water has come back, not drinking but at least showering!

January 10th – morning in Iten, loadsa of groups out, not the least was Brother Colm in the car following his group of Augustine Choge, Isaac Songok, David Rudisha, Mangata, Rebby Koech, and Mercy Kosgei, but also the Gianni group, the Qatar runners... and no foreigners as such. After a long social breakfast I took milk and bread to the Simba’s house, she was going to braid extensions into her hair—a task that takes eight hours. So I stopped off for a portion, refused to have mine braided, and left quickly when the compromise was a blow-dry and wash; did not want that either. The Simba told me I looked like a street boy. Cool, I fit in.

Back at the camp Solomon Busendich called, then dropped by and we went to the Lucas Sang funeral. The road to Eldoret is so sad – just rows and rows of burnt buildings and cars. Complete centers that were flourishing businesses now flattened down to mere heaps of ashes. Schools burnt, and any house owned by a Kikuyu a shell. A lot of the athletes, like Paul Kosgei, Evans Rutto, Luke Kibet etc have houses here – but, as Kalenjins’, their houses were untouched. There is no fuel available in Iten so we had to go to a far off place to buy some fuel first, then Bush ran out of money, but luckily Katui was in the gas station. So eventually we got to the funeral.

Lucas Sang was a well loved and respected man. The funeral took place in a large open field and the who’s who of athletes were in attendance: Moses Tanui, Moses Kiptanui, Patrick Sang (no relation), Tecla Chemabwai, Ibrahim Hussein, Ben Limo, Daniel Komen, Noah Ngeny, Chris Cheboiboch, Kip Keino, Japheth Kimutai Mike Boit, Augustine Choge, amplified phone calls from Olympic Champions Paul Ereng and Peter Rono over in the USA… the funeral session was already in place when we arrived so I slipped into the back and went to sit in the bushes, and who did I find there but Martin Lel and Robert Cheruiyot.

Stephen Biwott too, the brother of Robert. Matthew Birir was there too. Amos Biwott... Some interesting speeches to be sure, and many about the clashes and what the Kalenjins’ should do now (in retaliation to Lucas’s death). We left, as most people did, before the service ended as it was getting dark and it is still dangerous to travel at night now. Ben Limo was saying that seven people had been killed two days ago, including one of the high up district officers so he wanted to make sure he was home with his family whilst the sun was still up.

So as the singers and choir began to lament Sang, and the clouds pulled down the Kenyan sun the convoy of vehicles began to leave. It became a hasty retreat. Of course I was not able to find Bush, so I started to walk to the car parking field and met Katwa (the lawyer of Raila) who offered to give me a ride, but I felt for walking... until there was Bush parked by the side of the road a ways down the road – he’d gone off to visit a friend in a nearby center. By this time I had a band of about five kids walking along with me, they were sorry to see me disappear off in a car as I told them otherwise we'd walk all the way back to Iten, maybe 12-miles, and they did not seem too concerned.

They told me they are afraid to go back to school on the 15th, “If they are burning people in churches, then they’ll burn us in school, right?” I could not say wrong.

Paul Tergat’s mother (See picture right), gave a speech at the funeral.

Arriving back at the camp Lornah’s sister Monicah was there. She was saying how still no one is cleaning up the dead bodies in her home area (close to Ben Limo’s). She had been away since the 27th and this was the first day she thought it safe to travel – a mere 40-km.

January 11th--There is talk today of revenge at a place whose name I have forgotten but begins with an M and is near the Kipchoge Stadium near Eldoret. It was decided as revenge after the funeral. I hope not as this is the direct route I am taking to get to Eldoret with Chris Cheboiboch – might have to cancel if it is true. I was woken at 5:00-am by Mike Boit phoning – I thought it was my alarm clock so I jumped out of bed, turned the phone off and went about presuming it was 6-AM. There is still no gasoline in Iten, which is stunting my motorcycle antics somewhat—I am driving on fumes and expecting any minute to get stranded. I blame Chris as he owns the gas station. In the morning I drove to visit Bush and bumped into Yobes Ondieki, the former world record holder who is now a coach. As we were talking Joseph Cheromei & Katui came along. Ondieki's athletes, after three years of coaching, are now beginning to blossom. After lunch I went to Eldoret with Monicah, John and Pineapple.

AS we drive Pineapple peers out of the window in amazement at the carnage. It is the first time she has been out of Iten. Every where that she recognizes now is completely different. We pass the shells of about twenty burned cars.

In Eldoret I went to see Moses Kiptanui at his office; he told me how he walked around the devastation with his kids in Eldoret and talked to them about what politics can do. He took them to the church that was burned with people inside, he took them to where the refugees are staying, to the houses and businesses that have been destroyed.

Then I met Chris Cheboiboch who I persuaded to drive me outside of Eldoret to Rita Jeptoo’s house. Chris showed me the school that Daniel Komen has now started in Eldoret as we left the town. He tells a story how there was a pile of second hand clothes being sold in the street and also concealing a dead body of someone who had just been killed. If you caused trouble the body was revealed, “Keep making noise and you’ll end up like him.”

We drove past Langas, a district badly hit in the clashes and also where the world's oldest school boy studies--I think he is 86-years old and the head boy of his school. Right now he has been moved to the Showground across the road for safety.

The showground is where Kenya’s largest refugee camp is. We pass the gates, looks gloomy, and heavily guarded.

In the town of Mosoriot, a little further up the road, going for a soda I saw a guy who looked really familiar in the eyes, he was sitting on the stoop of some small shack stores. Outside the barber’s shop where Robert Cheruiyot used to work... and low and behold it was the younger brother to Robert, Gilbert Cheruiyot in exactly the same place Robert used to hang!

Within ten minutes a group of about twenty people had arrived and were telling me stories about Robert, the days when he used to work there and what he was like as a person. On the way back heavy rains began to fall, so heavy that we could hardly se the road, plus there are no street lights in rural Kenya… plus we kept on having to dodge people who were wandering along in the middle of the road drunk in black clothes! Miracles that they can survive. I heard that Jebet Langat, the 800m runner, is still married to Kenneth ‘Fire’ Cheruiyot – the man convicted of murder who won Rotterdam, we the drove past the Rotter dam center (Spelt that way), a complex here built by Charles Kibiwott who ran a 2:06 in that city – athletes tend to do that; build and name buildings after certain races…. Lisbon, owned by Martin Lel was passed. Even Lornah’s swimming pool was constructed after ‘Udine’ funds and might thus be called such. William Sigei’s complex is called ‘Oslo’ after his world record in that city.

January 12—Hakuna power! No electricity since yesterday night when the rains knocked out the power system. At breakfast we discussed the different cultural roles the West has in its ‘family life’ to Kenya. It was William Kiplagat’s wife’s funeral today but we ended up missing it because I had a meeting with a Lawyer (the aforementioned in these stories, Katwa) about the future of Shoe4Africa in Kenya and how best to strategize its growth. As we met for coffee at the Simba n’ Starbucks house Katwa looked at my motorcycle and said “The first thing I can advise you is please don’t ride this motorcycle. Having no license plate, insurance is not good…” Funnily enough that morning I had been stopped by the police, for them to only say “Hi, long time, when is the next shoe4africa race coming?” They then made some comments about liking my Maasai shirt.

In the afternoon it was over to Sleepy Sylvia’s (who had won her race in Italy) and I drove along the Rift Valley looking at land. All in all an uneventful day though in the evening hours I took over the kitchen and made some Chapatti’s for everyone… “If I don’t run well in Dubai I will blame your cooking!” growled the Simba who had come over from her house to eat at the camp.

January 13th—Chris Cheboiboch called me up at 7:30 to ask me to meet a lady with five kids, whose husband has died, and is struggling with school fees. The lady is going to take the youngest out of school because she has no money, so 9-year old Precious Jeruto Boit is the one who has been chosen to leave studies, despite the fact that ‘school’ is her favorite thing in life and she has been longing for the xmas holidays to be over so she can go back and be with her friends.

Sunday, we went to church; Rose discovered it is hard to sit on the back of a motorcycle when you are wearing a skirt; she laughed all the way. At church I nearly fell asleep, maybe it was seeing at least three other people who had already fallen asleep that gave me the zz’z. The Pastor, brother to William Kiplagat, was taking the day off and a spare took his place... wow did he drag on and repeat himself about twenty times. Upon looking up and seeing the state of the congregation he said, “Oh, I think a small song is needed.” So we sung a chorus, then off he went again. Of course I made the mistake of arriving on time instead of arriving with the Simba who turns up an hour late. I was thinking of making a speedy getaway but unfortunately I had parked the bike right outside the church door and as the building is corrugated iron with barely a door that closes indiscreet exits are impossible. The food at the camp has changed dramatically; it is now just African food, so I don’t eat so much as the repetition doesn’t leave you darting to the dining room. When the foreigners are in the camp the variety is changing everyday.

So after a small lunch I went to see Sylvia for the afternoon and lazed away the afternoon. She begins her indoor season soon and had just completed a hard track session. Leaving Sylvia’s I saw the tire on the motorbike was flat! There was no way I was going to push the bike home, so I drove instead. Let me tell you it is hard enough to ride anything on these dirt roads, let alone when your back tire is as flat as a pancake, I was whizzing to the left and right instead of forward! The last day when I left was one spent mainly around the camp; hanging out with the few Kenyan people I had shared this last month with. A sad time to say goodbyes. To drive to the local airport we went first to Eldoret. This road is a ghost of its former self – beautiful houses now ashes, metal frames that were once cars. Another beautiful newly finished house was now burned to the ground; it happened a couple of days ago. The reason? A Kisii couple, a tribe not so far from this region, owned the house. Well the ‘Kisii’ people as a whole did not vote in the ODM party in their district PNU (Kibabki’s party) had won, thus the house was burned.

Into Eldoret I stopped off at Bata, to say some goodbyes. I met William Koila, Ben Limo, and Chris Cheboiboch who had come to say ‘see ya later’. Limo tells me that six people have just been murdered in Naivasha, from the Kalenjin tribe. As I stand on the street a young man comes up to me, “Are you Toby?” He asks. It turns out I used to eat Chapatti’s at his father’s house, Samuel Peppela (from Bungoma) back in 1995 whilst his father was a teacher at St. Patrick’s – I write this because if Samuel (who is now in Kitale) gets this please email me, as I had to rush off and did not get his number.

I played phone tag with Rita Jeptoo but sadly did not meet up. As always, when I leave Kenya, I realize a piece of me dies for the leaving.

We were so late and rushed to get to Eldoret airport that we had to drive down the street on the wrong side of the road as there was a huge jam on the other side, we nearly knocked down a guy but John managed to do a great bit of swerving, and the cut saved us at least 15-minutes in gridlock.

Before going to the Nairobi Airport later that night I ate dinner with the Simba and the Starbucks in Nairobi and felt really sad to be leaving. It is something about the depth of the people, the hope, the goodness, and the purity – being the traveling gypsy I can pride myself on a good perspective of country and regardless of what has gone on this past month, and continues to go on, Kenya will always remain for me the best of countries. Simba and Starbucks tomorrow will fly to Dubai for he marathon; if Lornah runs any kind of result there it will be a miracle beyond belief. I forgot to mention that leaving Eldoret, passing Langas, we look out of the window; people are walking, many still with sticks and pangas—there is even one civilian man there with a gun.

My friend Alfred, who drove me to the airport talked, “Yes the violence is wrong, but this is people crying out for help, asking for democracy, the years spent waiting, then believing, then the frustrations, these are not the acts of normal Kenyan people, it is the doings of desperate people who know they have no voice. The Government says take this matter to the courts, well who owns and runs the courts?” It sounds very much like a Palestinian/Israeli conundrum. The Kenyans courts would tie this matter up for five years… probably until the next election… but when the Head of the Electoral Commission of Kenya publicly announces he does not really know who won, and can not explain how the tallied numbers were fudged in the final count something is very much not democratic. “We are living in dictatorship,” he concluded.

Sitting on the plane one invariably hears the talk around you, a woman sitting behind me had been on a safari and was unaware of any problems in the country, Kenyan tourism is very adept at this policy. Even in Nairobi you can walk around and believe nothing is happening. As a religious leader in Eldoret said, “How can we say things are normal when I have 8,000 refugees in my parish?”

One day I have been your neighbor for twenty years, I have borrowed salt from you as you have used my flour. We have seen our children grow. Then one day one vote changes all this. You are chased away with knifes and guns, in fact you are lucky if you leave with your life. You had a business yesterday, selling necessities to our community but today you sit with thousands of others guarded by sub machine guns hoping for a meal, begging for one blanket. The vast majority of rural Kenyans do not have insurance. Shops are stocked with the family’s life savings, these people will never recover, but they will be happy to have been spared.

But back to the flight, just before boarding I spoke with a man I had been in touch with for the past three weeks; they say living in Africa’s largest slum is hell, well imagine living there when a civil war is going on, people are slicing each other and you are boxed into Africa’s most densely populated area. Armed police/army surround the area and will shoot you if you try to leave, so you must survive. The sanitation does not exist at the best of times, food is always scarce, and forget trying to hide in your little shack that houses your entire family, and in-laws and one mattress… Most parts of Kibera were burned to the ground... anyway, sorry for rambling, so I phoned up this guy, and asked him how things have been, “Oh, not bad, we are surviving, with the grace of God we’ll see better times. Have a safe journey and come and visit next time, greetings from the family.”

I phone Rose, “How are you doing Rose?” She answers with her usual, “And maybe you?” No, Rose I want to know how you are. The Kenyan spirit is to think first of the other person…

Then the woman on the flight, coming back from her Safari, “I refuse, we can’t take off unless you bring me a bottle of water.” Twenty minutes later, “I am not sitting here in this seat, my in-seat entertainment is not working properly. I insist to be moved (Issues as the flight as oversold).”

Related article -- New York Times.

When I got back and finally opened up my email! I have two email accounts -- the primary being my AOL account, the secondary being my yahoo -- here's the yahoo inbox (note, not spam!)