It is a wonder that I manage to sleep through the night that Wednesday.
When I wake up in the morning, I think to myself, “one more day and then I go home” before reality quickly comes streaming back. I will not be going back home.
Today I am not as disorientated as I was when I went to bed last night. After my morning routine of prayer and a glass of water, I scroll through my phone to find out what happened while I was asleep.
My first stop, of course, is the repatriation WhatsApp group, where I fervently hope I will get some good news. It is not to be though. As if yesterday’s blow wasn’t bad enough, there are speculations about the Covid-19 tests that we went into so much trouble to take.
Somebody says their contact has told him that one-week-old tests might not be acceptable, never mind that we still haven’t gotten the results for the one we took. As for me, I am yet to forget the severe pain I went through while taking the test.
BLEEDING
By the time the procedure was done, I was nose bleeding and in pain. I can feel a lump rising in my throat at the thought of taking it again. I am not happy at all.
There is lots of disappointment and frustration in the group today, which is understandable. Members demand written communication on the way forward from Kenya Airways and the Kenyan embassy in Nigeria.
The speculation is triggering very high levels of anxiety among us. The officials, I imagine must be overwhelmed by our demands and possibly by the slow trickle of information from the relevant agencies.
Most of us though, are still optimistic that we shall still go home on Friday 12 because the tickets say so. There is also confusion about those Kenyans in other states because the flight information refers only about Lagos.
Some people had travelled to Lagos from their states of residence and checked into hotels in readiness for the flight home. Now they have to incur hotel costs they had not budgeted for, while others like me have yet to receive tickets in spite of the fact that we already paid.
We feel like lost sheep wondering around with no shepherd to take us home. I still haven’t informed people that I will no longer be travelling home. The thought of having to explain why and answering questions that I have no answers to is too depressing for me.
SAFE JOURNEY HOME
In the WhatsApp group for my choir back home, my safe journey home is a prayer item in our programme for the fasting and prayers that we hold every Thursday.
I, however, choose not to dampen their spirits by informing them that my flight has been cancelled, after all no prayer goes to waste.
As the day progresses, our frustrations mount, and just when we think that it cannot get worse than it already is, boom! Another bombshell hits us. One of us has news that we now have to be a group of 80 to fly back home.
My heart sinks. The most we have ever been in the group was 72, and that was when we needed 50 people, so we were sure that even if some dropped out, we were still good to go. As it is, we are only 45 after others dropped out due to the prohibitive costs of the flight and the anticipated costs and inconveniences of quarantine when we landed home.
In the group, questions abound on what this information means, considering that by night fall we still don’t have any official communication other than the fact that we can see on the Kenya Airways airline website that the flight has been pulled out. I am drained by the time I go to bed. At this point I just sigh, throw in the towel and decide that the battle belongs to the Lord.
Ms Ndinda is Research Manager, Transform Research Africa Ltd. She is stranded in Nigeria, where she has been since March 21.
TOMORROW: Even with news that our flight has been cancelled and that the airline will not accept week-old results, I decide to collect my results at the testing facility since they are yet to communicate. To my utter shock, I am informed that I have to redo it because my results were inclusive.
