You’re in trouble if you get your health advisory wrong while planning an expedition into the storied heart of East Africa.

From the get-go, a conflicting deluge of information gets flung on you at every turn: You need a Yellow Fever shot. No, you don’t need the Yellow Fever shot, but you do need the Hep A & Hep B shots. No wait, actually you need all three shots, but here’s the thing: you might also want to consider the Rabies shot. Oh did you say you’ll be crossing over to Uganda too? Then you’re definitely going to have to get something for Malaria as well – no, not a shot. More like a pill maybe. And while you’re at it, have you looked at Typhoid Fever and Tetanus too? Yes, those come in shots.

Even before getting on the plane, you’re already knackered from information assault- and possibly even financially destitute as well; because, if you want to play it safe and not miss anything, you’d end up doing the full circle of shots; and your innoculation journey- even before your actual journey begins- would have set you back by upwards of $400.

My toxic trait is that I do not listen to advisories when I travel.

Whenever somebody tells me to do something, my gut reaction is to do the other thing. I’d venture to say that the years have softened me but back in 2015 when I was much younger and couldn’t stomach the idea of spending close to half-a-thousand dollars on just vaccinations alone, I decided, instead, to wage a silent war against conformity and explore the unspoken possibilities between ‘must’ and ‘recommended’; and I took a leap of faith to journey through East Africa 100% unvaccinated.

For most part- and to my own surprise- my rebellion rewarded me well. I got through all my days okay and cleared every border without so much as a blink from anyone behind the counters. Nobody asked, and nobody cared, whether anyone was vaccinated or not. I passaged through Uganda, then Rwanda, then back to Uganda and Kenya again; eventually I did get my fill of Malaria pills from a shabby little pharmacist in Kampala- a fleeting moment of sensibility that remains the only aspect of this I look back fondly upon- but other than that, every hurdle I hopped over only served to reinforce my confidence about pushing the boundaries on travel advisories. When I finally made it back to my final destination of disembarkation some twenty days later, I was thoroughly convinced that none of the vaccinations were ever needed at all.

That is, until the day I had to leave.

Or more specifically, two hours before my flight was due to leave from the airport.

But of course. The loophole reverse-loopholes me back.

Turns out, of all the people and things and places involved, India, requires all passengers arriving from Kenya to have a Yellow Fever vaccination or be turned away at immigration… or held in quarantine.

I MADE THIS MISTAKE SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO

The second thing that I learned, after learning that I’d forgot to learn about India, was that the Yellow Fever jab confers protection only ten days after the vaccination – meaning if you were to get your Yellow Fever vaccination today, you’re only considered protected against Yellow Fever ten days from today.

Meaning, even if I were to get the shot there and then at the airport (a service which was strangely available), the earliest I could fly out was ten days later; because anything earlier and I would still be considered unvaccinated by customs.

The third thing that I learned, was a little bit of refresher Economics; and that is where demand treads, supply is. And naturally, the person who relayed all of this information to me- and clearly registered the mounting sense of desperation on my face as he spoke- was also the one who could make it all go away.

There is still a way, he assures me. The Yellow Fever vaccination takes ten days to count, but he has a way to make it count today. He can get me the Yellow Fever booklet with all the certifications I need and I can still make it to Mumbai, today.

All it will cost me, is USD30.

And everything will be okay.

There was something he was telling me, and all I need to do was to hear it. And so I found myself grappling at the crossroads of two options that day: one, to hold my moral ground, bite the bullet, take the real vaccination and extend my stay in Nairobi for another ten days so that I may at least leave (and live) with my conscience and principles in tact.

Or, two, bribe my way out of Africa.

The question comes and goes so quickly it wasn’t much more than a casual flicker in the conversation; and yet, when the moment passes, a different world greets me. When I blink and open my eyes again, there is a vignette to the lightness that my heart cannot adjust to. There is a way out, but not without.

It was Kenya in the middle of May, and yet, the air felt momentarily void of heat. I knew what he was asking of me, and I knew what I could give; but I also knew that with less than two hours now to my flight, I had neither the time nor the space to reflect on this country and its complex understanding of justice; I could -and would- not make sense of what I was truly doing.

And so I reached into my pockets, fished for a handful of crumpled notes, and gave him the USD30 he asked for, in exchange for my way out of the country.

In exchange for my peace.

I will be remiss not to mention that, even as I am consciously choosing to share this story with everyone, I am not uncognizant of the facts that:
1. what I had done was technically a crime (which is why I waited for the statute of limitations in three different countries to pass before I thought sound to even speak about it), and;
2. this story is, needless to say, not one that reflects well on me.

But, that is exactly why I feel it has to be told. Not all decisions are easy and not all paths are straight. There is an uncanny threshold between right and wrong and often, we are just one barren step away from either. For years, this pulled me in different directions- at times it seems like what had happened was trivial enough and I was simply making a mountain out of a molehill; other times, the context was clear as day: I had bribed an official to get myself out of Kenya. As it turns out, corruption is nature to humanity for a reason. Because it is friendly. And it is convenient. And alot of the time, it is just far easier to do than the right thing. In fact, sometimes it is so easy to do that you cannot even imagine doing the ‘right’ thing. Was staying on in Nairobi for another ten days ever an option? All I had to do was scramble around to find accommodation for ten more days, forfeit the 5-day Mumbai layover I’d acrobated into this trip, rebook my entire flight – oh, and make sure I remember to get the jab on that same day too otherwise all this would be stupidly fraught… or, I could just pass this guy some loose Kenyan currency that I would probably never use again, and all of this would no longer be a problem.

On the day I finally returned to Singapore, my world was quiet. I’d cleared three more checks since Nairobi; again, all without so much as a blink- but this time, I did it with the aid of a forged little yellow booklet that I couldn’t shake the damp off of. Turns out that loopholes really do get you past doors – although, sometimes, you simply emerge on the other side as an unwitting bolt to a larger machination, further entrenching a longstanding, deep-seated crack in the system.

And with hindsight and a couple of notches more wisdom on my back, I’d say, no loophole is ever worth that.

What would you do though, if you were me? Would you hold out and fall into (temporary) financial ruins by extending your stay in Kenya, just to do the right thing; or would you simply have fished that same USD30 out of your pockets?

---