Joyride to Work

I wake up in the morning, dress up and have my breakfast, then head for the bus stop. Everyone around me seems in a hurry, all headed for the same direction. Professionals dressed for the office, business people, their faces set in focus and purpose, school children in neat uniform and little bags strapped to their backs, plus a few idlers here and there taking a casual stroll to somewhere (or nowhere).

Soon I, and several others, reach the bus stop while others proceed to various other destinations. A school bell rings somewhere and a few pupils break into a run.

The bus stop is already swamped with commuters and everyone is alert, scheming on how to be the first inside the next bus or matatu (mini-bus), and how to ensure they get a seat. ‘Town, town, railways, kenyatta’ the rapid chorus hums from everywhere. Touts from about five matatus are competing with each other for commuters. No need at this hour anyway as we all are in dire need of transport, but it’s in their blood to shout and chant and hassle commuters into their vehicles. You are lucky if you can hear what they are saying, but you definitely will know when they mention the bus fare, ‘Town kenyatta hamsini…..’ Well, the hamsini (fifty) refers to the bus fare to Kenyatta, for those of you unversed in the way of our public transport. The ‘Town’ is left silent as it will be considerably more expensive, probably Ksh.70 or 80, but seeing as the commuter only hears ‘hamsini’ (fifty), you enter happily, only to find out later that you have to cough 20 or 30 more if Town Centre is your destination.

‘But you said 50?’ many a commuter can be heard later lamenting.

‘Oh no, you misheard. I said Kenyatta 50, Town 80,’ while in reality he said nothing about how much to Town Centre, that’s usually the trick. Which is why you will find most of us ask ‘how much’ before getting in. That way there will be no surprises. Unless of course you ask the beba beba dude (the one who gets commuters inside the Matatu but does not travel with it) and he tells you one thing, only to find later the tout inside has a different figure altogether.

Well, the five or so matatus rev to and fro, blocking each other’s way and the road in the process, and soon a traffic jam begins to form on either direction at the bus-stop. Private vehicles hoot and rant, road rage taking over, some swearing profusely, others resigned to this daily matatu madness, while still others threaten to get out and discipline the matatu touts and their drivers.

Eventually the dude blocking the road sees some sense and moves, thereby moving the traffic along. Now I am at the front of the bunch and I vow to get into the next mat. So promptly as it arrives I plant myself near the door, and the tout opens the passengers door at the driver’s cabin with a smile, ‘ingia hapa auntie’ (get in here auntie). Now, I’m not his auntie, let alone a distant relative or acquaintance, but I’m young and female and that’s all it takes to extract a smile from him, get a seat at the driver’s cabin and instantly become his auntie. Trust me, the only way men will get this seat is by some kind of force, or when commuters are few.

I’m only too glad to get a seat, though truth be told I hate travelling at the front seat of matatus for several reasons: One, I’m too close to danger were there any kind of head on collision seeing as the front of these vehicles is more or less flat. Second, the egotistical talk that usually takes place between the driver and his buddies, mainly about how useless female drivers and drivers of personal cars are. I mean I take both offences personally. So I do what I do best, pretend not to hear a word they are saying and ride in silence, craving the moment I reach my destination.

The holler and road blockage is repeated at almost every bus stop all the way to town centre, and I wish for the umpteenth time we had real rail transport in Kenya, anything to spare us this morning ritual of squeezed, slow yet raging madness. I mean rail network everywhere, not just the one line or two via Kibera, Dandora and Kikuyu.

Eventually the blockages at the bus stops and road junctions merge to form one huge traffic jam and now I begin to worry. I worry because I know matatus will take any available way out of the jam, including driving dangerously close to the ditch on the roadside on the pedestrian pavement. Pedestrian indeed! It may as well be a third or fourth matatu lane. Pedestrians often have to scuttle to safety as matatus come tearing along the pavement unannounced. Not that any vehicle should have any business being on the pavement anyway but hey, this is Kenya. I have personally witnessed a matatu drive along a shop veranda just to beat the competitor ahead…! I mean when you think of the effort the government put in ensuring all the road contactors built a pedestrian walk – you wonder why it can’t make the same effort to ensure only pedestrians can use the roadside pavements.

True to nature soon our driver veers off the road and onto the pavement, following several matatus which have already done so, and instinctively I begin to drive along with him, my foot applying imaginary brakes for him whenever I think he’s about to hit someone or something, or to deposit all of us into a ditch.

Well, he makes it to the end of the jam and immediately plants himself back onto the road in front of the nearby vehicle, and is all smiles as he passes the traffic police as if to say, ‘I’ve been a good boy, I’ve done nothing wrong.’ Not that it matters, he, like all other matatu drivers, knows his way around the police.

We reach town, much to everyone’s relief, and the tout announces ‘mwisho mwisho’ (the end, the end). We’re near the bus stop but not quite there, and in fact we are still on the highway, but hey, this is Nairobi. We all begin to jump out of the Nissan matatu, some even before it completely slows down. ‘Haraka, haraka’ (hurry, hurry). The same tout who had so lured us into the vehicle now has no more use for us and wants us out as quickly as possible. Indeed, those who drag themselves end up having to jump out of a moving vehicle, the driver just got tired of waiting for all the 14 passengers to alight somewhere in the middle of the road.

Whew! I think to myself. So glad to be out of that madness. By the time I reach the office, I’m mentally drained and I need a cup of tea or coffee to soothe my senses, then I’ll be ready for work till evening comes and I have to do the matatu thing all over again!