Frenzied flight out of Madrid straight into ghost airport in Rome

By the time I made a decision to leave Madrid, I knew that I was at the centre of the Covid-19 pandemic. I was thousands of kilometres away from home and most of the flights had been grounded.

My Ethiopian Airlines flight had been rescheduled, then cancelled, then rescheduled ... until I lost count. I was now deadly scared.

I have to leave. But how? I neither had a plane ticket nor another way out. I took my fear to Twitter and bombarded the airline with requests until they responded. I finally got a ticket and was slated to fly out of Madrid on the evening of March 25 to land in Nairobi on the morning of March 26.

But more bad news awaited me. President Uhuru Kenyatta had suspended all international flights from midnight, March 25! I was in a quagmire. “How now? Why me and how do I get out of here?” I was going crazy. I had come to Madrid to heal after my father’s death but here I was at the centre of a storm.

“If I manage to get out of Madrid by Tuesday, I will make it to Nairobi before Wednesday midnight,” I said to myself amidst the madness of swirling thoughts. What I needed was a prayer and a plan.

But I was losing my mind and couldn’t entirely shake off the thought that I was now trapped in turbulent Madrid. Shock, despair, and frustration set in. I then made up my mind. There were only two things: I would either die here, or die escaping.

I chose the latter. There was no way I was going to die in Madrid. I went back to Twitter with a torrent of requests to Ethiopian Airlines, pleading with them to endorse me on any other airline.

Then my daughter called: "Mum, you have to come home as soon as now…latest Tuesday… we can't handle this anxiety… get out of there!"

My world was collapsing. Then I got a reply from my agents: “There's a flight for tomorrow 3.30pm via Rome." Are you serious? Rome in Italy, the other Covid-19 hub in Europe! But it was the only way home.

I got a sharp chilling pain in my spinal cord running all through my veins. I was in panic. I wrote back. “I'll take it.”

It was do or die. I got a reservation on Air Italia. By then, only 2 seats were remaining. I started packing and ignored all calls and messages. How would I explain to anyone that I was having a 5-hour layover in Rome? I didn't want to worry anyone. Only my daughter and husband knew the risk I was taking. I embarked on prayer, asking God to see me through the journey and to deliver me safely to my home country. By now, Kenyans were urging the President to shut down the airport and totally lock us out.

It was shocking how no one felt our predicament, our worries and those of our families. The returnees were viewed as virus carriers. I went offline and muted my phone. It was time to think and act. It was time to escape from Madrid!

I took an Uber and to adhere to the social distancing rules, which were now being implemented in Madrid, I couldn't travel with anyone to the airport. I left without Becky’s son who was to assist me in Spanish translation, just in case. But now, Spanish didn’t seem to matter. I didn't care. It was only after the Uber driver dropped me off at the check-in gate that I realised that I was now on my own.

My struggles started as I dragged my bags, with only my flight details on my phone. With social distancing, it became impossible to get help. All announcements were in Spanish, both verbal and written.

Finally, a sweeper noticed my desperation. He understood a little English and that is how I eventually got to the check-in counter. The attendant explained vaguely that I couldn't enter Rome since I wasn't an Italian national.

“But I have a ticket!” I shot back. I was asking myself how Ethiopian Airlines could have endorsed me on Air Italia if I couldn't access Rome — or where were they supposed to drop me? I called my host's son to come and explain my case because I couldn’t because of the language barrier.

The check-in lady kept on shouting at me: "No inglé! No Italia! Keep away!”

She called airport security. As I stood there hoping that my Spanish translator would make it in time, I was arrested for being at the airport without a valid reason. The fine, I was told, was 600 Euros.

Then I remembered that I have a Schengen visa and thus could access all European countries except the UK. I flipped my passport and shouted out: "Schengen!!"

And that was it. My luggage got a tag. Destination Nairobi. Time was running out and the airport staff were getting overwhelmed. The mandatory social distance issue was time consuming.

Boarding pass at the ready, I joined the marked queue. No mask. No gloves. Just some alcohol-based hand sanitiser. It was such a relief. I was the only black person who was boarding that flight. Tired, drained, lost and acting like all was well.

Finally, it was time to board my flight at around 3.30pm. I kept distance as we slowly walked in. Inside, it was overcrowded. All seats were booked and we were handed over some forms to fill in details and all the people we had contacted in Spain.

The Italian girl seated next to me didn't have a pen. I gave her mine. In just over an hour and a half, we landed in Rome.

This is where trauma and confusion gripped me. The airport was humongous but deserted! Everyone alighted and disappeared into marked doors. I followed my ticket for direction.

I was now dehydrated because we weren't served anything on board.

Tomorrow: Read how I left Italy into the waiting arms of police in Nairobi.