My Dental Hell

The young girl in medical uniform invited me to the dental room. Faithfully I explained what was wrong with my teeth (yes, teeth, multiple!) She did the usual dental thing and examined me with the big lamp, gently poking and knocking around in my mouth. Then she said with an apologetic expression, ‘Unfortunately we don’t fill the last molars.’

‘Why?’ I asked in disbelief.

‘We consider it a waste since they are not useful to you and they will be the first to come out anyway,’ she explained candidly.

The reason I had come here in the first place was because I was in serious pain from one of my molars and two others needed a refill (by now you’re wondering what’s up with my teeth. I don’t understand it either.)

‘So what now?’ I ventured.

‘I recommend extraction,’ the lady continued.

‘On all those teeth?’

‘Those teeth are useless to you,’ she carried on with medical confidence.

I weighed my options. Lose all those teeth? No way! I was sure there were dentists who would indulge me (for a fortune, of course) and work to save my teeth for a few more years, by which time I should be rich enough to afford permanent implants. Coz, trust me, I ain’t putting dentures at this age… that would quickly kill romance!

So I hurriedly said my thank yous and goodbyes and bolted out of the dentist’s chair. Driving back home I couldn’t help but feel cheated at the long journey I had made to this hospital hoping to get good service for less bucks. Now my fuel was spent for nothing, never mind the pain in my tooth was still drilling holes through my jaw (I think a toothache has tools, and satanic rhythm. Those who’ve been there know what I mean, not to mention it delights to torment at night, when you should otherwise be asleep…)

The following day I dragged myself to my trusted dentist. I explained my situation and she did the usual poking and X-rays, then delivered the verdict. Two to be filled, one definite extraction. Oh well, much better than the other place, though I dreaded the mention of the word extraction. I will do anything to avoid an extraction.

I knew I had to agree. And so started the process, one day per week for three weeks, of repairing my molars. The fillings went fine, no drama there. Then the day came for the extraction.

My heart beat like a drum the whole time I was in the waiting area, then reached a crescendo when my name was called. Try as I did I could not relax. The young lady (this one was young too) did her best to calm me down but nothing doing. She would just have to put up with my heaving chest and grimacing face.

You see, this is one of the teeth I had tried to hang onto successfully for the last 7 years. The same dentists had done a root canal but over time the tooth had become useless and now had to go. So I anticipated trouble in its extraction. And it did not disappoint.

The lady must have spent thirty minutes working on that tooth. Trauma, the internet guys call it. A traumatic extraction. Which led to a dry socket which led to pain as I’ve never before experienced in my life three days after extraction. I had to go back for follow-up and pain killers as I just couldn’t go on this way. Well, the dentist said the X-ray showed my tooth was healing fine and just did whatever it is they do for a dry socket.

I did a lot of internet research and found many who had gone through the same hell. Indeed one suggested I stay away from sodas for a while and another said to have painkillers always as there would be flare-ups. Which must be what I’m experiencing now as I gorged myself on coke last Sunday believing to be completely healed only for the silly tooth to flare up again. And now I am on painkillers again as the pain almost feels like another toothache. One internet dentist cautions the bone could take months to heal even after the gum has healed. I totally believe them now and I’m staying away from anything corrosive until the bone talks to me and says, ‘hey, I’m healed!’

Maybe the first dentist was right, but no way was I going to lose three teeth just yet. However I learnt every extraction is unique and the fact that one tooth came out within seconds and healed pain-free is no guarantee that everything would always go that smooth. If I didn’t have earlier and better experience with my dentist, I would never have gone back there for what I suffered this time round.

Oh well, this world of never-ending pain!…..

Childhood Nostalgia...

Childhood memories usually fill me with momentary nostalgia as I remember the happy days of play, play and more play. My immediate neighbourhood consisted of extended family and a friendly neighbour just beyond the fence, so the children around the compound were quite a troop.

My last thought as the last school bell rang each day would be 'bye bye tight place and welcome sweet home of play.' And even though there were chores to be done here and there, they were really nothing compared to the toil of the school day, and could be just as much fun if one managed to rally the other kids to help.

Being young and foolish is a chance every kid must be allowed to have. Free of cares free of worries. No thoughts of cost of food, rent, school fees, transport... name it. After all, mum and dad provided that. Mum brought the food and dad did the 'bigger' things. Why worry about anything...? Who needed money then, except for sweets?

School wasn't exactly funless either, rising like really early and joining other kids for a joyful morning procession. (Not everyone was always happy though depending on what one might have done to offend a teacher in school the day before and what manner of punishment awaited them in school. Some would be carrying all manner of tools in readiness for the task ahead like cutting grass, gardening, cleaning etc.)

The idea of learning new things, meeting all these other kids from all over, and the ever constant promise of a better life afterwards, made school a sacred place not to be missed by the aspiring child. In my case, the thought of what dad would do to me if I even imagined quitting school was enough to keep me going and saluting the powers that be there.

We had so much space for play at home, so much freedom. I believe we grew up well and properly adjusted for simple reasons like lots of fresh air, lots of exercise (what with no TV...), healthy diet (what with no processed foods...), and friendship. Suspicion was minimal as opposed to today's tense, mean and dangerous atmosphere. There are all sorts of nutters out there these days.

Money had little to do with it (though a little bit of it did no one no harm). Quality of life, it turns out, does not always match your piggy bank. Consider some of the fellows you considered well to do while growing up. Where are some of them today?

If there is one thing about my childhood though that I was glad to leave behind, it was Primary school. I never would go back there! I consider it the worst experience of my life (in comparison, of course). My High school days were absolutely a joyful ride after those 7 years in Primary school. I mean teachers there were simply mean - the cane, horrible punishments (some lived just to invent new ways of inflicting pain on the pupils), early hours and the daily walk to and fro, to name but a few. Am sure pupils today thank God they weren't born in the days of the cane, just like in our day we thanked God we weren't born in the days of boot camp (primary school was something close to that in my father's day judging from the harrowing stories he told).

Other than that, I miss everything else and retain sweet memories of baby bliss. Granted, no one really wants to be a child again (being told what to do all the time, not earning your own money...). But the memories are good, and the experience shaped my life to what it is. Bend a tree when it's still young. I hope our kids will grow up to say the same. I hope we provide them with an enabling atmosphere.

I hope we don't lock them up in tight block of flats and forbid them to go out and play because of what we consider danger lurking outside. I hope we don't make the TV their babysitter as we busy ourselves with other things. I hope we don't produce couch potatoes while our parents brought us up so differently... I hope we cook proper meals for them and spend quality time with them.

Childhood comes but once in a lifetime. Every child has the right to be a child, without a care in the world.

Closer Still...

Now I know there are mixed feelings about the passing of the Draft Constitution last night (01/04/2010), and the many walk-outs to deny quorum for amendments, but really, I gotta say those were too many amendments for a Draft that had earlier been almost unanimously agreed upon in Naivasha by the same lawmakers. Whoever coined the word mutilation on these attempts got it bang on!

And I too, like many others agree this is by no means a perfect Draft, but it’s by all means much better than our current one. There are a few things in there I too would contend with but hey, no one gets everything they want in real life, and yes…we can always debate later, after we are safely into a new and better Constitution and bye bye to the old one full of colonial undertones.

With all sincerity a nation’s constitution cannot be a forum for individual or even regional interests, but a unified national interest one, with reasonable regard to the general convenience of all regions and citizens concerned (not catering to every whim.)

Which parent is ever able to meet all the wants and demands of each individual child, or even sometimes, sibling gangs? Why would we expect a nation to be able to do what a family unit cannot manage?

Let’s learn to give credit where it is due. The committee of experts has done a great job, so has the Naivasha group, which demonstrated amazing and refreshing unity and maturity among our lawmakers.

Hopefully there is a way to iron out the really thorny issues before the referendum... I don't know. After twenty years of the same song, I for one would be glad to conclude it and move on to other things…

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Welcome, the Rains…

So now it’s raining cats and dogs, which is normal for the month of March headed for April. Except that the rain started in January – now that’s not normal. January is the month when, if my memory serves me right, the sand would scorch your feet if you dared to walk bare foot. So dry, so hot, was Jan and Feb.

Furthermore the rain is falling in floody, even deadly torrents in places where just months ago people were dying of drought and famine. That too is not quite the norm. But then what is normal anymore, in terms of weather and climate? Meteorologists and other experts are scratching their heads trying to figure out what is going on and why, and no real answers are forthcoming. Of course they always have something to say to the layperson if only to allay our fears.

That seasons have changed worldwide is no secret anymore, never mind the popular reasons for the same, read global warming. Extreme, unpredictable weather be that snow, rain, heat wave, drought, hailstorms, strong winds etc. are the order, and fear of the day.

For us though it’s a welcome surprise and relief as the country has been through a series of devastating droughts, leading to crop failure and loss of lives even. Barring for the few but sad losses occasioned by the current rainfall, we are indeed blessed to be dealing with a wet situation as opposed to a dry one.

The transformation from brown to lush green landscapes is always a delight as is the sight of pastoralists herding their cattle back home in masses after the long search for pasture, now gladly over.

Extreme weather is here to stay for a while at least, it seems, but hopefully we will put our excess rainfall to good use and store needed moisture for the dry day…

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Sweet Moments of Glory...

It’s absolutely amazing to be World Champions in something as awesome as Athletics. That’s what our beloved athletes did for Kenya at the World Cross Country (2010) in Poland.

Oh the joy, oh the pride! They’ve done us proud again, these sportsmen and women. At the same time our Rugby Team (Shujaa) was doing its thing at the Hong Kong Sevens. Now this may not have been the rosiest of their performances but this amazing team has accomplished feats that are nothing short of legendary, having beaten pretty much each of the big wigs at one time or another, and standing at number 7 overall in the world (was 6 till Hong Kong, but that’s temporary. We will triumph!)

Our rugby boys literary electrify Stadiums wherever they play with their pace and finesse, and send the crowds roaring, momentarily forgetting whom they should be cheering. We laud you, Shujaa, we laud you, our athletes!

And how can we forget our swimming Team that swept to number one in Africa overall with numerous medals to their name early this year! How can one not be proud to be Kenyan… Not to mention our Volleyball Teams that literally dominate the African scene...

You have to admit there’s something special about this land, something that must be nursed and released to thrive and become what it was always meant to be… a centre for excellence.

Was it a coincidence, do you think, that after the most painful period in our nation’s history, it was Kenya’s national anthem that played last at the Beijing Olympics as Wanjiru sprinted to the marathon victory…? Oh what vindication, what comfort, what honour…

I wonder how many more sportsmen and women are waiting in the wings out there, or how many more are yet to be born. All I know is, there’ll never lack a star, many stars infact, to represent and bring glory to this country, putting us squarely on the world’s map – for all the right reasons. And this, dear Kenyans, is how we must see our country, what we must nurse and protect, the togetherness, the excellence, the potential, the power within, through which we should all do our part to propel this great nation to triumphant heights.

It’s obvious we can dominate the World scene in whatever we aspire to. Let’s aspire to dominate in development, peace, fairness, equitableness, progress, prosperity… Can we maybe one day (soon) say, Kenya has the highest per capita income in the world? Think about that…

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A song for Kenya

Kenya - a beautiful and rare jewel that we must refine and polish for all to see and delight in. Kenya my country I bleed for you, a gnawing pain in my heart as I see your potential, what you can be if only the obstacles could melt away...

Kenya my country
Delight my heart
Comfort me in my sorrow
Tell me there’s hope
That soon not later
We shall awake to something new
Something good and beautiful
Something real

That we shall cross over
And be them that give
Not the other way round
Be the pride and envy
Of those around us
Possess for ourselves
What we admire in others

Kenya my country
Respond to all the prayers
And rise from the ashes
To bud and to flourish
Rouse yourself from surrender
And take on new strength
Strength to grow and to change
Strength to be all you can be
Strength to stand tall
Strength to be whom God meant you to be

Across the Nithi

Recently I found myself travelling a lot around Mt. Kenya region and it surprised me that I had never taken the time to do so till now. Unbelievable how easy it is to board a plane to wherever when local tourism is teeming with wonderful sights, tastes and sounds.

All my life I have been fascinated with River Nithi, but I had never, till now, been to Meru or anywhere where I’d need to cross the Nithi. So when I finally had to make the journey to Meru, I rarely slept the night before thinking how I’d have to cross that river. See, this has been a traffic black-spot since time immemorial. They say there is a force in the ground that forces vehicles off the road. (No details please, I’m no expert on the subject.) And judging from the number of accidents and the numerous dents on the roadside barricade, one has to conclude it’s true. Only fools dare to speed here, either uphill or downhill.

So as I headed to Meru the following day I said to a friend who was with me, ‘Make sure to let me know when we approach River Nithi.’ (She was from Meru and knew the route well). ‘Sure,’ she responded.

The road to Meru is quite hilly and full of hair-raising bends, but local leaders have done a good job of ensuring the roads are smooth and well marked. Bravo! No potholes here. As such the journey is much more comfortable than it would otherwise be, or than it used to be before the road repairs.

I waited and waited. Meru is no less than 4 and a half hrs from Nairobi. I saw many treacherous bridges, bends and hills, but nothing posing any serious danger to travellers. The driver was very careful and there was absolutely no cause for alarm in this journey. I almost couldn’t believe this was the journey I had dreaded all my life, and that had kept me awake the previous night.

I had also heard stories about how recklessly Miraa transporters drive along this route. That turned out to be completely true. They sped and overtook with abandon, headlamps blazing, waiting and stopping for nothing and no one. Luckily they weren’t that frequent so as long as one was careful you could always stay out of their way.

I observed one or two suspicious looking bridges which I could have sworn were the Nithi, but my friend was deep in conversation and after asking her once or twice whether we had yet passed the Nithi I had decided to be patient. She assured me she would definitely point out the Nithi to me.

About 4 hours later I started seeing sign-posts reading Meru this, Meru that, and I had this faint suspicion we were approaching Meru town and my friend had forgotten to show me the Nithi. So I asked, ‘Pray, where is the Nithi?’ to which she replied, ‘Oh, did you not see it?’

‘You were supposed to show it to me,’ I reminded her.

‘Sorry I forgot,’ she stated.

Two words, disappointment that I had crossed the mighty Nithi and not realized it; and relief that it was all over. I concluded it couldn’t then be as bad as people claim if I had passed it without noticing.

‘Then there is no Nithi,’ I declared to the whole vehicle.

‘What?’ they chorused. ‘River Nithi definitely exists.’

‘Then how come I didn’t notice it, no one showed it to me, and I didn’t see anything on this road that much out of the ordinary?’ I asked.

‘Trust us, the Nithi exists and is very dangerous.’ They insisted.

On my way back I did see the Nithi. It does not appear as dangerous as it actually is. To be honest to the naked eye a few other spots on this road appear much more dangerous. Except for the very long and steep hill, and a slight bend at the bottom, nothing much else looks any different from much of the Meru route. However if you are observant you immediately notice the raised bumpy partition in the middle as the authorities try to make sure vehicles don’t attempt to overtake here (though I have since witnessed a matatu cross this partition and proceed to overtake!)

You also notice the barricades on either side of the road, as well as the many dents that are evidence of numerous accidents or near-accidents here. You notice also, that most drivers slow way down at this spot, and bigger vehicles like trucks literally crawl, as they are perfect candidates for the ground force that pulls vehicles off the road here.

After this journey I felt wiser and initiated into that ever-growing club of those of us who have crossed the Nithi. I’ve been to Meru many times since, and now, since learning the true danger of the Nithi (the force), I respect the rather innocent looking slope, and I always breathe a silent sigh of relief once I’m clear off this spot. If I notice the driver moving a bit too fast, or he/she is new and doesn’t understand the place, I caution them and break no bones about it. Better safe than sorry.

Either way, it’s always a relief to finally reach Embu, and leave the Meru hills and bends behind. But the beauty of this region, with Mt. Kenya towering right over it, is breathtaking. In fact, the reason for all the hills and bends is that this is indeed the beginning of the ascent to the Mountain.

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