Matatu Mania

The guy seated next to me half stood and tightly clutched the seat in front. We were approaching the Mbagathi slope from Karen towards Ngong. The Matatu (mini-bus) was moving fast and showed no sign of slowing down.

‘Is he a new driver on this route?’ I wondered. Only drivers new to this route dare to keep such speeds at this particular spot. See, after a relatively level section, the road gently ascends then suddenly dips and curves to the right, before curving again to the left near the bottom – with a deep ravine to the right.

Many a speeding, drunk or absent-minded driver have driven right off the road at this point and landed in various positions on the side of the road, usually the left if they’re coming from Karen, the right if from Ngong. Oh, did I mention, the slope continues in the same curving motions on the other side of the stream, though a bit gentler.

I would have been just as concerned as the guy next to me, except I had gauged the driver through this journey (I do that almost unconsciously), and knew he wasn’t a very dangerous driver. He seemed to have a sober head on his shoulders and somehow I knew he would slow down soon enough, which he went on to do, thankfully.

Once I conclude in my mind that I have entered a Mat with a dangerous driver, there are a few places I will ensure they don’t drive me across. This particular hill being number one: Had I decided this driver was dangerous I would have alighted at Karen and taken a Nissan Matatu (they’re smaller therefore more stable on such terrain – well, usually); number two would be Valley Road, another hill where I’ll do my best not to descend on the wings of a driver with something to prove.

Which reminds me of Christmas day last year. My husband and I were headed home, a few other family members in our car. The roads were amazingly clear, after all it was Christmas and most Kenyans had already travelled either upcountry or various holiday destinations. There should have been no traffic jam, and there was none till we neared Githurai, where suddenly the jam was chock-block. A distance of less than three minutes was now promising to take over half an hour.

A few minutes into the jam the Mats found a way, much like a river finds its way through any terrain. They crossed the one-way-traffic highway to the other side and proceeded to drive ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY! Now you might think that’s an absurd thing to do except occasionally as directed by police when situations call for a diversion, but no, not with our Mats…it’s common practice to deal with jam this way. Soon the vehicles with the right of way were having a hard time dodging the Mats headed their way.

Others did another common trick, they decided to use the sidewalks or imaginary lanes on either side of the road. Unfortunately on either side there was a ditch half covered with grass though any level-headed person could see it. Soon about six Matatus, (no exaggeration), were half on their side in the ditch and were going nowhere fast anymore. They were stuck! Only one thought was going through my mind, and tongue, ‘For goodness sake could they not see the ditch? They drove right into the ditch!’ And most car and other sober drivers went into a righteous rage over this.

Now I remember with longing those two or so years when sanity was temporarily restored on our roads and Matatus drove like quiet lambs and did not bother overtake because they had to observe 80km/hr anyway. I marvelled greatly that it was actually possible for our Mats to tow the line with a bit of strictness in the law. When they didn’t drive on pavements and sidewalks, and passengers were treated with the dignity they deserved. But those days were short-lived and now we’re back to holding our breath and riding on the edge of our seat like my friend in the Mat, hoping each journey will end well, and breathing a sigh of relief when we’re finally able to say, ‘shukisha’ (or ‘my stop, please’).

As long as we’re in this city we may not avoid the occasional Matatu ride, but to tell you the truth, I wish I could take my car every time. I look forward to the next bout of sanity on our roads, real sanity, not the occasional crackdown that only works when cops are in sight and it’s back to Matatu mania as soon as we’re round the bend.

In the name of courtesy, in the name of safety, in the name of mwananchi mtukufu, (esteemed citizen) I pray for sanity on our roads.