If you asked me at this point in my trip what is my favorite part of Kenya, I would most likely talk your ear off for about an hour telling you about the best thing ever, only to change my mind in the middle of a thought and tell you about another aspect of the culture, or music, or the pigeon that I saw on the side of the road one day... Then, right when you thought I was finished, I would probably get really excited about something completely different and start over from scratch. So instead of listing everything that I love about Kenya, I’ll update you on my current obsession (and possibly the reason that I will never come back from Africa). The matatu. I am abandoning my plans of law school and professionalism and disregarding the years of education (and tuition fees) in order to pursue my true passion. Being the conductor of a matatu. If anyone is reading this and thinking this is a rash decision, you could not be more wrong. I’ve been in Africa three weeks, there has been plenty of thought put into this. For example, I have the lingo down. A matatu is a van, with huge speakers on the inside (seems to be a requirement) blaring hip-hop, reggae or dancehall. You can’t make phone calls because you can’t hear yourself think, so if you need to communicate to the world outside of the matatu, you have to text. The conductor fits 22+ people into the 14 person van and hangs out of the open door yelling at people on the side of the street, recruiting them to join the party. There is usually no room for the conductor so he extends his body out of the open door and jumps off while it is moving to fit people in and runs to catch up and jumps on as the matatu leaves the stop. He collects the money from people (ripping off wazungu ((plural mzungu) unless you hear the price at the beginning, which is good because all of the wazungu will think that I won’t rip them off because I’m white and then BOOM!... works in my favor!) and hits the side of the van twice to signal to the driver when he needs to stop and yells “twende! Twende!!” (lets go, lets go!) to let the driver know it is time to reenter traffic with reckless abandon. I’ve gotten really good at the prices and the destinations… “Bau-m-bau Ngong!!”… “Thirty bob, em bul-bul!!”… I’m telling you, I was born for this! You need to be persuasive as well. There are usually a bunch of matatus at the station and they are all competing to get people into their vans. The faster you fill up, the faster you start moving, the faster you refill, the more money you make. It is aggressive and cutthroat. I have always had a way with words and can be very persuasive. A little work on my Swahili and I think I can give these other matatu conductors a run for their money. I ran this idea by Isaac and he told me that not only would I be the first mzungu matatu conductor, I would be the most popular matatu in Kenya because everyone would be so interested! This line of work does not come without risks. There are battle wounds, from falling out, or not jumping back in correctly… but it’s a risk that I’m willing to take. Are matatus safe? Are they reckless? Are they fun? No, yes, yes. Every time you set foot in a matatu it seems to be an adventure, so how can you maximize the adventure? Work in one. The logic is flawless. Why am I infatuated with these vehicles, you ask? A few personal anecdotes from the matatus escapades that I have been a part of:
1) Title: Musical Chairs
My roommate, Nikki and I boarded a matatu. The conductor told me bau-m-bau (20 shillings) to Karen. We boarded and grabbed a seat by the window (definitely the preferred spot). Midway through our trip the matatu stopped to pick up some people on the side of the road (that’s where you catch the matatu… there are no scheduled stops, just where people are and where people ask to be let out) and our conductor hopped out, but didn’t get back in. Another conductor took over his spot and manned the “hanging-out-of-the-door position”. A few minutes down the road, the matatu stopped again and this time the driver got out and walked away. Another man jumped into the driver’s seat and started driving…. No one in the matatu flinched, which is the best indicator for when something is wrong. If the Africans think something is fishy, it usually is, if they don’t, its usually common practice. The new driver took us down the road for about 15 minutes covering a few miles in the process and the new conductor started collecting money. Right as he asked me for 40 shillings for the ride (double what I was told I should pay, but still 50 cents American), the original conductor hopped back into the matatu, out of nowhere! How he had gotten ahead of us, got dropped off, found this matatu and jumped back in will forever remain a mystery. He looked at the new conductor and in Swahili told him that he promised me and Nikki that it was 20 shillings, confirming that it was the man that had convinced us to get in his matatu back in Ngong. The new conductor said some sharp sounding words that passed WAYYY over the two wazungu’s heads and gave us a look as he took our collective 40 shillings. With a new driver, a disappearing conductor who returned to save the day and a new conductor adding to the drama and excitement, the inkling entered my head that I wanted to be in a matatu. Plus, evidently you get the power to teleport as soon as you get the job… which would be nice.
2) Title: Buying Sugar Cane
This is a short story, but a good one. In an especially fancy looking matatu (lil wayne posters plastered all over the inside and a Minnesota Timberwolves sticker plasterd to the rear window, making it impossible for the driver to see anything behind him) our conductor slapped the side of the car twice (signaling to stop) even though no asked to be dropped off and there was no one around on an abandoned road with a few trees lining the barren land about ten yards from the road. As we stopped, even the Africans were looking around with slightly puzzled looks. A man immerged from behind a tree holding a small, nondescript black plastic bag. The conductor reached out of the window and shook the man’s hand, not very discretely depositing a few thousand shilling in his palm. The black bag was then given to the conductor who whistled and said “twende (lets go)”. The matatu took off again after barely coming to a complete stop. My roommate and I exchanged “only here” looks and the matatu conductor said under his breath “…sugar cane”. I don’t mean to mislead you with the way that I am writing this story down. I believe him. What other job in the world can you stop on the side of the road and pick up a mid day snack?… not sketchy at all.
3) Title: Changa’a
A little context: Changa’a is an illegal brew made by Kenyans using bleach, whiskey and any other cleaning chemical or toxic household substance that they can get their hands on. Other than causing blindness (could be after your first sip, could be after your 1,000th… that’s part of the fun) and being crack-like addictive and a lot of times leading to rotting from the inside out, resulting in death…. There are no side effects. I’ve been meaning to try it, but its surprisingly hard to get your hands on (I’m not sure how my sarcasm has been translating in previous posts, but I REALLLLLY hope that one got across). So, now the story. I brought a bag of sugar cane into a matatu one day (actual sugar cane, I PROMISE) and I was sitting next to the conductor, who was a really nice guy. At one of the stops I offered him some of my sugar cane… the bags of sugar cane have soooo much and they are very sweet so sometimes I can’t finish them all. He accepted and was very thankful. So much so that he offered me some of his Fanta, which was in the orange bottle but was a murky brown. I asked him what it was and he said “changa’a”…. decision time. As much as I have always said that eyesight is the most overrated of the senses, and it is rude to turn down a direct offer in the Kenyan culture, I nervously laughed and graciously declined the offer. I think that you might need to have a drink to stay sane in the matatu conductors line of work…. As long as he doesn’t switch with the driver.
4) Title: Wrong Side of the Road
Matatus are known for passing cars without thinking twice, sometimes to the chagrin of all the passengers and the conductors as well (again, the faster you get to the destination, the faster you unload and then refill). They cause, and are involved in tons of accidents (especially in rural areas)… In the heart of Nairobi traffic (notoriously some of the worst in the world behind India) going in the direction that we were traveling in, our matatu driver decides to get slick. He cuts to his right (remember, Kenya drives on the opposite side of the road from America as it was, until relatively recently, a British territory) into oncoming traffic, which was going considerably faster than our standstill. The only problem was that there was a car coming straight at us and our position in the traffic had been filled almost instantly. Now it was time to make a quick decision. With a car barreling at us and honking, our matatu driver continues to cut to the right onto the OPPOSITE shoulder. He drives for about a half a mile on the opposite shoulder, swerving off-road on the right to avoid buses stopping to pick people up before deeming it appropriate to get back onto the legally-designated-correct side of the road. Where in the Western world can you have this adventure?
Oh, the life of a matatu conductor. Goodbye Western World. It was nice to know you.
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