I have read, ad-nauseum,about the Matatus here in Nairobi in preparation for this adventure. These are public buses that upon first glance put to rest any Norman Rockwell-esque sense of imagination that these wonderfully tidy vans would slowly cruise down cobblestone streets and a smartly dressed man with a captains hat would punch your ticket, welcome you aboard and toot his whistle indicating the time has come for departure. Rude awakening in regards to Matatus to follow in a few short sentences.
First of all, nothing here is on a grid like we are used to at home. Even flying over the continent on our arrival showed that where I was accustomed to seeing tightly lined boxes of brown and green intersected by 90 degree streets gave way to no boxes, one color, and no streets (seriously...no paved streets). Simple skinny paths of dirt connect houses with corrugated roofs (if any roof at all) that are generally miles apart. The only difference between this and a major city like Nairobi is there is no space between anything here in the city. High walled apartment complexes, smoldering piles of burning garbage and huge frames of buildings that I honestly can't tell if they are being erected or methodically taken down.
This lack of grid gives drivers and passengers here the same feeling as if they were driving around Tilden Park in Oakland. Long sweeping streets that vary greatly in elevations, hardly wide enough for 2 cars, no lane determination, and unless well within city limits (where we go dramatically beyond daily) hardly an ounce pavement. Every street here either has pot holes that would swallow a mini cooper or speed bumps that require a lift kit to clear without scraping years off the bottom of the cars.
Our commute is probably the equivalent of 20+ miles and require the very small penance of merely one Matatu and one Commuter Bus; however it takes close to 2 hours each way and handfuls of Dramamine every 30 minutes.
And now the Matatu-These are all de-commissioned Nissan Mini-Vans rode hard and put away wet everyday. Commonly referred to as "derailed BART cars" in our youth, they provide the maximum amount of passengers and visual bumper clearance by putting the engine underneath. Driven by a man with nerves of steel and no guilt, and a "caller" who resides back with the passengers but is constantly hanging out of the sliding door wooing passer-bys to come in. When it's time to stop for somebody the caller simple slaps the roof of the van once with an open palm and when time to pull away he bangs the roof relentlessly with a closed fist; however it should be noted that the Matatu never fully comes to rest. Its like catching a stage coach in the old west that is currently being chased by Indians.
The Commuter Bus seats probably 60 people in a Greyhound tour bus setting. high back chairs and a much larger center isle, one can't help but imagine that these were probably luxurious 25 years ago when the were new. This particular company fleet is owned by a woman who dresses her staff in uniform, issue actual tickets with paid fare, and stay dedicated to their routes. (it is not uncommon on other bus lines to have buses pull over in the middle of nowhere and demand everybody get off for no reason) but not with Connections. Oh yeah-they are bright purple, so you always know your riding with the right company.
So we take the Matatu line 48 to downtown Nairobi, walk through the most exhaust and dusty city you will ever see amongst 1 million city dwellers for about 5 city blocks, then ride Connections line 19c to the outer city of Komarock which borders Kayole where the Livewell Clinic and the orphanage is. Again, the travel time is close to 2 hours (depending on how quickly they can fill the bus. There aren't schedules. The buses line up and won't leave until they are full, then the next one pulls up and repeats) but the cost cannot be beat.
The Matatu is 40ksh (40 cents) each person/each way and the bus is 60ksh (60 cents) each person/each way. $4 a day get us to the outer reaches of where we do our work and offer the most visceral experience a commuter can have.
The first day I left Kristen at home and set out with 2 employees (one per line) sent by the clinic to make sure I didn't get killed. I quickly memorized the routes via landmarks and told them that their services would no longer be needed. They were set to escort us the rest of the week but I only used them for one day. Gabriel, just another Livewell angel, called 3 times to make sure I knew what I was doing. ""I love this stuff! I will be fine".
So today was the end of day 3 on public transport (2 with Kristen) and I told myself I wouldn't write about it until I was confident enough to call myself comfortable. What I wasn't expecting is how natural Kristen is at it. Her sense of adventure never ceases to force me further into love with her.
Sure at the end of the day when we roll ourselves into the safety of the apartment we feel like we have been mining coal all day, even our eye boogers are black, and I don't even want a cigarette because I just spent 4 hours smoking buses and virtually inhaling the BO from half of the country, but this truly is the only way to feel alive!
Look Ma, I'm a local!
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