From the moment I saw 'Empress MaryAnne' lighting up on my phone, I had this inexplicable feeling that she was the bearer of bad news.
I'm not implying that my wife is always delivering unwelcome news. Nor am I trying to paint her out to be a tad bit dramatic.
However, on that particular Friday afternoon, I just knew she was about to hit me with some earth-shattering, end-of-days kind of news.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I had just been with her a few hours earlier when she saw me off at the airport...despite me insisting that driving around while 9 months pregnant was probably not a good idea.
"Mimba ni ya nani?" she had asked.
We both laughed.
Her dark humor was one of the many reasons I knew she was my person.
Anyway, I was inspecting a prime piece of real estate down in Malindi when MaryAnne called.
Naturally, my mind went to the baby. After the turmoil of our first pregnancy I couldn't help it.
A silent prayer later, I answered.
"Why aren't you answering your phone?" We were off to a great start. As it turns out, my silent prayer had taken a little too long.
"Are you watching this?" she added.
"Hello to you too babe," I replied.
" I'll let you babe me later. Are you watching this!" she asked again.
"What?"
"Uhuru's speech," she replied.
"Nope. Niko kwa site, I didn't know he was supposed to address the nation,"
"Anasema nini," I asked. The tone in her voice told me it couldn't be anything good, but I still tried to maintain some level of optimism.
"He just came on, it's live on all the channels. Let's talk after, " she said.
The phone went dead.
At least it's not about the pregnancy - I told myself as I navigated to the YouTube app.
"Fellow Kenyans, I hereby issue the public order number two of 2021 on the Coronavirus pandemic as follows,
"There shall be a cessation of movement by road, rail or air into and out of the disease infected area as one zoned area comprising of the Counties of Nairobi, Kajiado, Machakos, Kiambu effective midnight tonight," the President's last 3 words seemed to echo in my brain.
My mouth hung loosely open as my mind raced.
Memories of the pain and agony of our first pregnancy came flooding back like a tidal wave.
It had taken us 5 years, and a lot of counselling to even consider trying again.
Just a week to our due date and this happens. I thought to myself.
The thought of MaryAnne all alone for an 'indefinite period' as the President put it, was just unbearable.
It felt like someone had taken a sickle and ripped open all my old wounds.
"Are you ok?" Kazungu - my project manager, asked.
"Based on experience, this peak will flatten only by mid-May 2021, which is about 60 days from now," President Uhuru continued.
I was stunned back to the present by a firm hand tagging on my shoulder.
"Is everything ok?" Kazungu asked. Vertical wrinkles etched between his eyebrows.
My phone rang.
It was MaryAnne again.
I was gasping for breath by this point. I knew I had to get it under control. Fast.
"Pull yourself together," a voice in my head told my sweaty and fidgety self.
I tried, I really did. However, the phone stopped ringing just as I had brought my heart rate to a near-healthy level.
I called her back.
My breath seemed to grow heavier with each ring.
"Catch you at a bad time hun?" she asked.
I couldn't help but look around, thinking she was watching me from close by...she wasn't.
"Sorry. Imekatika just as I was answering, Missing me already?"
Her hearty laughter warmed my heart.
"Fungua roho, now that Uhuru ameamua we try out this long distance relationship thing," I added.
If she could have seen the horizontal wrinkles on my forehead she'd have known I was clutching at straws. But she couldn't and so I did.
We spent the next 15 or so minutes going through various scenarios and how we'd handle it if I was unable to find a way back home.
We danced around but opted not to address the elephant in the room.
"Love you too," she said.
The phone went dead.
As agreed, I immediately cleared the hospital fees for her scheduled visit on Good Friday via Visa.
I was still not sure if I'd make it home by then.
A call to a local airline only made things worse as they informed me that making a booking was off the table.
My air bnb host may have said that he was sorry for my unplanned extension and the reason behind it, but I could tell from the glee in his voice that this was welcome news.
Crisis and opportunity have a tendency to go hand in hand.
Once again, I used my Co-op Visa card to cover the unplanned expense. Thankfully, an ongoing Easter offer meant that my transactions were free of charge.
After the year we’ve had plus the latest developments...you can’t blame me for taking up any and every opportunity to save whatever I can.
Anyway, it was finally time to address the elephant me and my better half had been dancing around.
Prior to the President's address, we were scheduled to visit our doctor on Monday (March 30).
MaryAnne had been experiencing some abdominal pain that had us worried. Past experience had taught us our toughest lesson to date.
Despite Dr Owiti telling us that it was perfectly normal, we had decided that a check up wouldn't hurt.
I made the dreaded call and informed him of the latest developments as well as my current predicament.
I was still optimistic that I'd find a way home by then, even if it meant driving through Tsavo.
The rest of the day flew by in a blur and I was soon lying in bed staring at the ceiling as sleep had deserted me.
At around 2:30 am, my heart almost jumped out of my skin.
The unexpected buzzing ring emanating from my phone was the reason.
It was MaryAnne.
I was suddenly drowning in sweat.
"Hello, is everything ok?" I asked. I was glad she couldn't see my trembling hands.
"Hi hun, sorry for calling this late. My water just broke."
"Hellooooo....are you still there...can you hear me?"
"Yes...yes. I'm here. Pole...how are you feeling?" I mumbled.
"I'm fine. I just talked to Dr Owiti and he's already on standby,"
"Mama Jayden... is driving me... Oo....ooover,"
I could tell that she was doing her best to mask her pain...the breathy voice gave her away.
"Sawa sawa...acha I get in touch with the doctor. I love you," I said.
"Love...you too,"
The phone went dead.
Last thing I remember after that was me on my knees.
Having gone through this before, coupled with how it ended ensured that trying to sleep would be a pointless undertaking.
I made a conscious decision not to call Dr Owiti...waiting it out was my preferred strategy.
An hour or so later my phone rang...it was Mama Jayden.
MaryAnne had just been wheeled into the theatre for an emergency C-section.
I don't really remember anything after that up until Dr Owiti's name lit up on my phone's screen... after what seemed like an eternity.
“Hello. Vipi Ken...how’s Malindi?” he asked.
………………………………..
“Or should I say Vipi Baba Zawadi…” he added.
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