Matatu ride

Kenya has no public transportation and the vast majority of Kenyans have no vehicles and there is very low population density...it all adds up to one big problem. Many Kenyans don't travel at all and some people in Takaungu have never in their life been to Kilifi, the town I visit twice a week to check my email. It is possible to walk (I've done it) but takes a good three hours. And walking to a place like Mombasa, forget about it. The solution then is the public's reliance on boda bodas, basically a bike taxi, and matatus. Matatus are vans, typically about 30 years old and look to be held together with duct tape. Many are decorated with inexplicable text written on the outside ("The Punisher", "Gospel Time", etc) and faux fur seats, tassels and fringe on the inside. It's also apparently a requirement that really horrible music be played at full blast all through the matatu ride. (My favorite song is a synthesizer-heavy pop song with lyrics like "I'm a man of few words, but lots of passion...I'm a gemini...That's the love twin sign..." and then between versus the synthesizer would blare out the entire tune for Three Blind Mice.) There are officially 17 seats in a matatu, but on my first ride I counted 22 people and another volunteer reported that she'd seen 25 once fit into the van. Fit is the wrong word, actually. On Megan's first matatu ride she had to crouch in a space with no seat. Other people crowd in by just crowding in. I sat in a seat once that I shared with two little boys while their sister, standing on the other side of me, reached across in front of my head to brace herself on the window. It's necessary to brace, because these vans drive like hellfire. The drivers go as fast as they can on the two lane road, swerving to miss every pothole that the vehicles from the other direction are swerving in the same direction to miss. The matatus pass slower vehicles by pulling into oncoming traffic and trying to get back into their lane before the oncoming semi gets too close. The vans also constantly stop to drop people off and pick them up. The drivers don't like to waste time for things like slowing down and simply pull off the road, which is elevated by at least 5 inches from the dirt lane beside it, tilting the van to a precarious angle. I've seen women and children scatter, screaming, as the matatu barrels into a stop without an eye for pedestrians. God help you if you're sitting in the back of the van, because you have to squeeze yourself and any bags you brought along through and over four rows of people who do not move to accomodate. Every matatu ride is terrifying in its own special way. There was the very angry driver who would pass vehicles in a very daring manner and then slam on his brakes once he was in front. The driver with no regard for people on the side of the road. The driver who forgot your stop. The van that bangs and clangs and rattles like it will fall apart at any minute. The van that drove down the highway with it's sliding door open for a good mile or so. The van with two absolutely wretched songs that are repeated over and over and over again. One volunteer was on a matatu where a fight broke out, complete with punches and a chase into the woods, which culminated in the unfortunate passenger holding on outside to the sliding door of the van until it picked up enough speed to throw him off while rounding a corner. Another volunteer rode from Mombasa (1-2 hours away) while the driver worked his way though an entire bottle of palm wine. And yet another volunteer was yelled at by the Kenyan police when the matatu was pulled over and they decided that she was in an illegal seat. ("They told me to sit here!") Megan was on a matatu that drove in circles around a town she wasn't familiar with and after the fifth loop, was kicked off with all of the other passengers when they wouldn't pay five times the standard fare. Still, we're so dependent on these matatus - there's no other option for a trip farther than you can walk - it's hard to side against them. The police however do not feel the same way. The government is cracking down on the matatus and pulling them off the road if they are too ramshackle or have too many passengers. This sounds like a good thing, but has had some really awful effects. With fewer matatus on the road, everyone waits for a very long time for a ride. We stand by the road as van after van races past us, barely slowing down enough for the debarking passenger to jump out of the moving vehicle. Volunteers have gotten stranded all over the place for lack of a matatu and if you're not on one by 3 pm, you'd better get a hotel room. The drivers have also taken the opportunity to jack up prices, charging 3-10 times as much as the standard fares. It's a bummer for us, but really devastating for some of the Kenyans who rely on these vehicles and have very small budgets.