Let’s be honest with each other. It’s been WAY too long since I’ve focused my energy on matatus… I’m still staying focused and playing my position, waiting for a conductor to notice my natural skills in the matatu business. So far, I haven’t even gotten a nibble, but I’m gaining experience every single day that I believe will someday turn me into the best (and first) white matatu conductor in Kenya.
Exhibit A: My friends and I were coming back from the elephant orphanage (place where you get to see baby elephants get fed and play from a distance of about 5-10 feet with no barriers besides a piece of string… but let’s stay focused on what is important here) and we crammed all 10 of us into the 14 person matatu that already had probably 8-10 Kenyans inside. I jumped up in the front seat next to the driver because I saw the seat was open. We drove for about 15 minutes back towards Karen (town where we transfer matatus) before I suddenly smelled a really funky mechanical smell that didn’t sit well with me. It carried on for a few minutes; and as we dropped off one of the passengers and took off back on the road, a thick black smoke started coming into the cabin, right from under my seat… where the engine is. There is a spark that comes from the ignition, where there are two cut wires that the driver rubs together to start the car (think “Gone in 60 Seconds”). I scream at the driver, not taking any chances with the language barrier “WAY! SIMAMA SASA!!” (Hey! Stop right now!). The driver looks at me and realizes what is going on and swerves to the shoulder and I start telling all the white people that I am with to get out of the van! Even the Kenyans realize this is a miserable situation and there is a rush to get out of the matatu that resembles the stampede scene from the Lion King. The driver lets the van sit until the smoke clears (literally) and tries to restart the engine. It doesn’t work. The conductor asks me to help him push the matatu. Here I am, running down a major road, in sandals, pushing a dead matatu with the conductor as cars are whizzing by, half of my friends are sitting in the backseat and half are standing on the side of the road. I am adding this to my conducting resume. Once the car is in motion, the engine starts up again and stupidly we get back in thinking the adventure was over. We get about 5 minutes down the road when the engine gives out again. This time the conductor flags down the next available matatu and pays our fare to where we were planning on going. The driver says he can’t fit all of us so Bud, Abi and I stay back to wait for the next one. The driver asks for a push and me and Bud help him run down the road pushing the matatu again. He gives us money for fare and Abi flags down a matatu which gets us where we were going without incident. Another day, another adventure.
Exhibit B: It was midday and my roommate Portia and I were in Karen for some errands. We were waiting at the bus stop for a matatu when an empty one pulled up and asked if we wanted a ride. He said it would be 10 shillings (13 cents) to get to Ngong, and seeing as it was the cheapest fare I had heard of, we took the ride.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, good idea getting into the one empty matatu that none of the Kenyans got into, the one that offered you 10 shillings fare and probably candy as long as you got in his van. Whatever, he told me he knew my parents, so I knew I could trust him…. That’s beside the point. This was probably the smoothest and safest matatu ride that I’ve been on, it was empty and cheap because it was off hours and no one rides the matatus away from the city during business hours. The reason this story is included is because it was invaluable matatu experience. I was finally one on one with a conductor and I got to ask him every question I wanted to!
I asked him how he remembered who had paid and who hadn’t paid because there is seemingly no rhyme or reason to when they ask you for money. I asked him how he remembers who he owes change to and how much change he owes each person, because sometimes they give you change straight away and sometimes they wait until you exit the van, depending on how much money they have in their possession at the time of payment. I asked him how he keeps track of the money. When we were stopped for a routine check by the police, I noticed that he didn’t bribe them, I asked him how he knew when to pay the police and when not to… to that question he responded “I don’t know what you’re talking about”… well played. I asked him if he had ever fallen out or had missed the step running to jump in. He rolled up his sleeve and showed me a scar, smiled and said “yes”. I can’t disclose the answers to the other questions otherwise I would have to kill you, but let’s just say I picked up a few tricks of the trade. As we arrived in Ngong I thanked him for the ride and he laughed and said that he had fun. Now I know the ropes, have been proactive in matatu situations and have a feeling that I could handle the reigns. Now all I need is a chance to shine…
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