The joy and pain of finally leaving camp

As I left the quarantine centre, I realised being released took longer than expected.

I had to get clearance from the Ministry of Health, the KMTC hostel management – and most importantly, the accounts department.

Also, all my items, the luggage, the shoes, had to go through thorough fumigation. Nothing was left to chance. A certificate with my Covid-19 test and result was perhaps the most essential, lest I met hostility back home. I needed evidence.

I was told to self-quarantine for the next seven days, where I would check my body for any symptoms. And for those days, there would be no interaction with other human beings.

Total self-discipline and hygiene. That would be another tall order, especially at home. To save myself all the pressure, I decided not to inform anyone that I was leaving.

Only my immediate family members got to know of my release. Indeed, I swore to strictly stay locked up.

Those released and travelling outside Nairobi were issued with a travel pass. I didn’t need that since Kiserian, Ngong, was now part of the Nairobi metropolis!

MEMORABLE MOMENTS

As I waited anxiously, some social workers came to talk to me. I thought they wanted to negotiate my charges. Some patients released a week ago were still being held here waiting for fee clearance. But I had already paid in full. I just wanted out.

But still there were humorous moments in camp. People dashing to queue for food, with the first 10 picking their dish of choice and the latecomers picking the unwanted leftovers; the jokes about using plastic containers, and practical jokes from middle-aged men who mused they would find their wives have been taken by their envious neighbours.

These light moments made things bearable. The one that scared me, however, was about the hovering marabou storks. Somebody said they were waiting for us to die.

Every time I watched the birds, I would get frightened. What if we died here? As I found out, confining a Kenyan is one thing, but taking away their humour is not easy.

We had good memorable moments, and leaving these high-spirited members behind was not easy. The food, too, was great — though I missed the gravy and soup.

We had got used to deep-fried chicken and fish. On my part, I feel the government treated us well.

DETENTION CAMP

The biggest disappointment was with the KMTC management that insisted on charging us even when we made it known that the doctor in charge had assured us otherwise. Finally, I walked out of the camp.

You see, these centres aren't like prison, where you know how long you will be held. In prison, you also earn some little money and you are allowed to receive visitors.

But quarantine is more of a detention camp. You don't earn a coin, neither do you get the privilege of receiving visitors. As a result, anxiety becomes your daily bread.

Your fate depends on issues less connected or that have nothing to do with you. Like in our case, our fate depended on whether there would be a single positive case.

It is the above uncertainties coupled with my failing health that led me to my decision to pay and leave. I needed to seek treatment - or at least continue with my medication and ease the weight in my disturbed head.

Mental health, I came to discover, is underrated. I tipped the guard on duty as I picked my luggage and for that, she helped me pull all my bags out and all the way to the gate. A little gesture goes a long way.

FINANCIAL STRAITS

She smiled and bade me goodbye. Like a friend. Human beings are funny creatures. Just oil their hands and you become instant buddies.

I wished her well and told her to pick a piece of loaf of bread from my cubicle. After all, we had no grudge.

I had already called someone to pick me up. As we drove off, I felt empty, unsure of how the free Kenya would treat me. I had left my home on March 1, yet it seemed like ages gone.

My mind was with those I had left behind. How would they foot that unreasonable bill? Some were students. Others had casual jobs. Many were dead broke.

What about parents who had gone to visit their family members and were now marooned here? Nobody had planned for this experience and cost.

I said a little prayer to all those left behind. Silence engulfed the car. The ride through Mbagathi Way was swift. I wondered what the driver was thinking about. He must have been wondering what was going through my mind too.

I had my clean bill of health. I had nothing to worry about. My worry was how would my son react on seeing me.