For the Public Transport Heroes

I was travelling to Mombasa for a friend's wedding and perhaps an extended holiday week. I had been running around all day; my sister was graduating from University and a bash had to be organised. You can imagine how tired I was when I ultimately got to the waiting lounge of Modern Coast, some minutes to 9pm-departure time. The bus came at 11:30pm. ISORAIT. I wasn't going to get upset, kisirani ya safari ya usiku was the last thing I wanted. I am already so paranoid about night trips. So I smiled and took the back seat. My seat-mates, children. I remember wondering where their parents were.

It was a smooth but long one. Ninety percent of the people were teenagers, presumably from a teens camp in Kisumu. They would occasionally have fits of noise making, but that's alright. I slept most of the time anyway. The kids next to me were surprisingly well behaved. I was impressed. I secretly apologised for being so judgemental on the onset. The 6:00am sunrise somewhere near Voi made the road trip even more memorable. I didn't feel so poor anymore, unable to take a Ksh. 6000 flight :D It was so beautiful!

We got to Mombasa town at 10:00am. It was hot, humid and sweaty! Tuk tuks (Coastarians call them tuku tuku :D) were everywhere! Like little bees. Just before we got into town though, the conductor (Is that what they are called on long distances too?) had called the kids next to me and told them they had arrived at their stop. Mariakani. Their mum was waiting for them. The one on my right was a little hesitant. He let the one by the window pass first, then the two on my left. Then he stood up and rushed to the door.

All this while, I thought they were all boys. I only realized the one on my right was a girl when I leaned back to relax and was suddenly hit by a stench. At first, I thought the stench was coming from outside since the window was open. Mombasa is known for its filth too. It wasn't. I looked down at the seat next to me and I felt...I felt bad. Broken. So sad. It was stained red. I remembered the sweater tied round her waist and the the rush to alight. The red robot had come visiting at the most inappropriate of times and she could do nothing about it. I wished she had asked me, but just looking at her, I think she hadn't been a 'woman' too long. Its not a thing you just tell strangers. I just sat there, wondering what the male attendants would think when they went round collecting trash. I couldn't even dignify her by cleaning it before anyone saw the red. I felt helpless, and I couldn't imagine how she'd felt.

A few weeks before, a woman, one I have come to admire came to our offices seeking some sort of partnership for her project. Her story was inspiring and touching too. Jennifer met a girl who was having a similar dilemma as the girl in my story. She looked scared and couldn't leave her seat for anything when the bus got to Mtito Andei. Later on with much prodding and insisting, the girl finally told her that she'd stained her dress and seat and she had no money to buy sanitary towels. Jennifer reassured her, convinced her to walk out with her, clean herself and change. She bought her a bag of sanitary towels, a panty and a trouser. Later, they cleaned the seat together and placed a polythene bag on top so she wouldn't have to sit on a wet seat. That encounter led her to the girl's school and now she has a project there that includes sex education for both boys and girls, distribution of sanitary towels and other essentials. Such a big heart.

 Jennifer (2nd right) and colleagues

Matatu Chronicles today salutes everyone who goes out of their way to help others while on transit. Be good this Christmas season. Peace! :)

Guest Blog: ALL IN 24 HOURS-PART 3

The final part of the 3 part series by guest blogger Esther Neema. I have enjoyed this read immensely!! Please read Part One and Two to get all the juice! Enjoy!

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My eyes open and it is 6.00 am, then I open the curtains, YOU MEAN WE ARE NOT YET IN

NAIROBI???? At that point, I am sooooo pressed all I was yearning for was a private space. But since I cannot even see any sight of building yet, I know we do have a long way to go, so I just close my eyes to help me forget that I gotsa pee. STILL THE DRIVER IS DRIVING AT 50 KM PER HOUR? Oh Lord why is this happening to me and the other passengers of course?

It is 8.00 am and now we are closer to south C. of course we are now caught up in the Nairobi Traffic. Then the driver refused to take “short cuts” and so of course we were stuck there. I secretly wished he could overlap, overtake or anything so that I just reach destination house. At least there was a promise I would be taken to the prestige bus stop which is closer home. I could even walk, run and if I felt a bit adventurous maybe crawl. But why crawl when you can take a cab for 200 bob surely.

I am still mad at the driver for driving us at the ridiculous speed, but happy that he brought us home

safe and sound. We are in Nairobi and the bus stops and everyone leaves with drama as usual. But we

have not gone through Prestige, why, I ask the bus conductor. Who reports that he was not told there

was one going to prestige. My heart sinks. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE NOT TOLD YOU I AM GOING TO PRESTIGE. ISN'T THAT WHERE YOU PROMISED TO TAKE YOUR

PASSENGERS. NOW SURELY WHERE IS THIS SURELY” my mind speaks to itself. Then I let out a weak “Ni sawa” Hmmmm, I was so bored. He blabbered something and I just saw his lips moving but heard nothing. I was too tired for Drama.

So I look around and I am just seeing buildings I have not seen my entire life. Honestly in this my 27

years I have not been everywhere in this city. “uuurgh where is this place now” So I start walking

towards wherever with my bearing being Hilton Hotel. In Nairobi, Hilton has always been my land

mark from the first time I went to town by myself until today when I am a grown woman, I knew I

had found my way once I could see hilton. Now at this moment, I COULD NOT SEE HILTON. Do you understand. I could not see Hilton.

I took my tiny suitcase, disgusted of course. It is madness to drop people off at different stops than they expected. But ey once I saw Ronal Ngala street, I knew I was home. I headed straight for Kencom. At exactly 10.00 I was in Kilimani. Welcomed home with the beautiful jacaranda flowers all in purple. And some other cute orange flowers. Some gracing the streets. Some covering the roads and some forming umbrellas above me. Beautiful.

It was beautiful. In one week there was already a change in season. It was flowering in Nairobi.They were serenading the streets. Home sweet home.  And I was suddenly in the rush and city

madness once again from the calmness of Mombasa. I always feel the urgency to do something, just anything whilst in Nairobi. Oh this town.

But alas, I had been to two different towns in such dramatic events, with very dramatic peeps, but these dramatic people, who sometimes made me so angry, had delivered me from one home to another. All in 24 hours. Reminding me to be grateful for Matutus and Buses and wonder why we should always have this fight relationship when we both need each other.

Guest Blog: ALL IN 24 HOURS-PART 2

Esther Neema wrote us a 3 part guest post, "All in 24 hours." The saga continues. How can 24 hours be so dramatic? Lol! I have laughed my heart out :D If you didn't read Part 1, find it HERE

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As I happily viewed the beautiful scenery of Vipingo ridge and the sisal plantations avoiding all the interior drama, I was interrupted by noises. The conductor plus the new guy who had also helped to get the excess passengers on board, let us call him Joseph, started heckling. “Kuna mapolisi huko mbele lakini”, causing the driver to start panicking almost leaving his steering wheel. They then directed him to get in to a 'route' in the plantation to get away from the police.

As of that moment, I was still admiring the sisal farms and how green it is, so beautiful indeed

assuming that the route used is actually a short cut since a few other matatus had gone that way. My mother kept complaining about the driving. One thing is for sure, many drivers here ENJOY overtaking and overlapping. Oh, they can't do without it I tell you.  Especially when there is an oncoming vehicle, that is when they feel the urgency do it. You find yourself staring at the front window in fear. Some also love arguing with fellow drivers, insulting pedestrians and even more arguing with  passengers. It is funny when you are in a matatu where there is an exchange between a passenger with the conductor. You can laugh for tears.

Anyway we kept going and going further in to the plantations where we meet a young boy who says there are police the direction we were headed. So the driver starts to panic once again and is advised by Joseph and the conductor, that we should go right. So we go right and keep going until we reach a dead end. As in there is no through way because we had reached someone's aboard.

This Jose guy with his friend the conductor kept giving directions that lead to gates that are closed and now we were lost in the middle of nowhere. As in obviously lost. So my mum being herself kept complaining LOUDLY in English about the whole situation. At that point my heart was convinced we have been hijacked. So I kept whispering to her that she should stop drawing attention to herself by complaining in English, she should whisper and if so in Kiswahili.

At the same time the driver has started to act harassed as well saying “Kama mlikua hamjui njia

mumenileta huku kwa nini, sasa ndio tumepotea hivi.” In my head I am thinking “whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!!!!!!, This guy has no idea WHERE WE ARE GOING and we are in the middle of a sisal forest? oi!” In my head I thought it was one big act pretending. “How can we be lost?” “How can the man on the wheel not know where we are going?”

Now to raise my fears even further, there we found a log on the path and a group of young men

running after our matatu with sticks on their hands heckling oye oye. Oi, Esther Neema, my heart

stopped beating. “Dear lord, did you bring me to the land of my people to meet face to face with MRC” I thought. He, I could not even breath. I was just there thinking “Gawsh I should have repented all my sins in the morning in case of anything”

Of course there was no turning back as both sides were huge sisal plantations that made us have no sight of anywhere else. So literally we were under their mercy, whoever these guys were. Humbly the conductor paid his dues and the log was lifted off the road.

It turns out they weren't MRC or even Al shabaab. These are called Mateja. Now, they collect cash from matatus that pass through these “short cuts”. If you are unlucky you will find them in every corner you turn, so you loose ALL your money to guys who just harass drivers. As in that is what they wake up to do this in the morning. They actually bid good bye to their family early in the morning to rob matatus of their income.

Anyway this was better than MRC I thought, however we were still lost, and honestly the fact that we were lost was not helping much. My mothers paranoia was rising every minute and my heart could not take any longer more shocks.

The rest of the passengers kept complaining and shouting to the same, “haya sasa tutafilka saa ngapi jamani yarabi?” . You see, if this was a shortcut then we should have reached earlier. But with time I have realized the said “short cuts” take the word short cut to a whole new meaning. I don't know why they use them anyway.

Luckily in the process of turning and turning and turning and turning, one of the passengers recognized a place. So he begun to dictate where we should go. “Argh wewe weanda na wapi wewe, nenda huku. Huko kwengine hakuna njia huko”

Feeling a lot better, though it was already 12.00 meaning we had spent two hours in the same area turning and turning in the same Kilifi. SURELY. Honestly if we had any appointment at all, we would have lost it. Perhaps we could have walked or? Well in Nairobi we are always told “kama ungekua na haraka ungeamka jana”

“Haya nenda na huku” he kept dictating. And finally we start to see homes and children playing, others laughing and crying, reminding us of life . Then at last we can all start giggling just for a bit. Then he says, “angalau hata mimi mumeshanifikisha kwetu” as he laughs. As in, this guy has just directed us to his home, and then what? How do we get to town? But the rest of the matatu was full of praises, saying how he has helped us much since we would have just been lostover there. “Angalau umetusaidia hapo”

Immediately he leaves, everyone else starts complaining saying how this guy just tricked us to get home. Ha ha ha, it was just a funny scenario, though a part of me was still so PISSED looking at those ladies who had gotten in to a full matatu causing us this unplanned adventure now seated comfortably and joining in the conversations. It was better to look outside the window.

And then FINALLY straight to the road, our journey to Mombasa now begun. I see a mass of blue, it is the Indian ocean, so beautiful. I swear it melts every anger and finally a smile broke. I swear sometime I just think that nature conspires just to make me happy. I am in Mombasa. At exactly 1.00 pm. Now since my journey was not to end in Mombasa, it was actually en route Nairobi at about 10.00 in the night, I had a few hours to feel as much breeze and warmth of this beautiful town, before  going back to what has been home for the last 27 years, Nairobi.

     

I didn't know what I was feeling about this move. All I knew for a while a break from Nairobi would be excellent therapy to my soul for sure. Many events have happened and I couldn't wait to leave it all behind and start over elsewhere. After all, home is where your heart is. Yet the fast pace of the city and the mole and the amazing people of My Nairobi still drew me to it like a magnet. But two weeks in kilifi made me realize I wanted to be in coast not just for a holiday but could love to live here. I was in love

At exactly 10.00, I board a bus to Nairobi and my journey begins, a journey to my goodbye to my beautiful Nairobi. I get in to the bus and as if the driver knew my heart desire, HE PUT TARAAB. Ow happy place, music kept playing and lulled me in to sleeping I didn't even notice the driver was drivingat 50 Km per. How!!!!. HOW SURELY ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GET ANYWHERE AT 50 KM PER HOUR???????

Esther is so dramatic...haha. Find out what happens in Part 3.

Guest Blog: ALL IN 24 HOURS- PART 1

Sometimes my Matatu Chronicles are non-existent and the blog goes silent. Then come guest bloggers such as Esther Neema who help me save face. She sent me this piece, which I have decided will be in two parts. Too hilarious! Wait till you read Part 2 tomorrow. 

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A friend of mine asked me to write my matatu chronicle and I wondered how would write this article without sounding bitter and troubled with life. However I still said, why not. After all, I have been reading, with pleasure her eventful chronicles.

I have had the most dramatic ones too though never imagined it possible that I could ever again experience any worse than route 48 where your feet get to experience an unwanted breeze from ground. Actually a ride in them could comprise your feet dangling outside the vehicle since the floor is sometimes broken, or is it torn. Anyway I am trying to mean there is a hole where your feet are supposed to be placed. So you must believe me when I say I never thought I could experience any worse.

I have moved cities, now living in Mombasa. I have been here for only a week (at the time of writing this). The first day I rode to town, I could have sworn for a minute I thought I was in Nairobi until I was asked for fare. Aki I promise I have never paid my 200 shillings to go to any destination, not even to Rongai. The most I have paid is probably 80 and I fumed the whole way, thinking about injustices in the world.

I was shocked though, no one caused Drama. You know I am used to my gangster route 46 where WE, the passengers, decide. WE just wait for one passenger to say “Ai,si fare inakuanga fifty hatuwezi lipa seventy, we fare ni mbao” and the rest of the bus we would echo those words. It is called people power. And somehow we manage to piss off the the kange as much as he had pissed us off. “Kama hamtalipa mshuke'.. only you cannot chase a whole matatu when we are in traffic and already half way in to our destination. So we would pay the team fare, the one that we the common wanacnhi had unanimously agreed..

Illustration by Steve Mchoraji

Now the 200 bob affair had nothing on this day I am about to tell you. Which I promise I thought we had been hijacked.

My mum and I left for Mombasa from Kilifi at about 10.00 am, in the hope that at least by 11.30 am we should have reached. Oi! That didn't happen. It took quite a while before the matatu filled up. Then we left. However, on our way we met more passengers who got in to an already full matatu with the hope to sit on us. Now you know when you have paid 200 shillings, my friend, the last thing you want is someone sitting on you, but we kept quiet and moved just abit for them to sit, WITHOUT COMPLAINING.

I was not that surprised when in the next stop the matatu picked more people to get in; after all I was born in the PRE- MICHUKI era where bus rides were the most uncomfortable rides ever. As in you could feel peoples privates. Now all you feel is shoulders, thank heavens. But still, really there was nowhere else anyone extra could sit in this matatu for sure, so they had to stand.

Now here people made noise “watakaa wapi hao, huku basi hakuna nafasi” Directed to the conducor and then indirectly to the passengers, ladies, “Na sasa we mwenyewe ukiingia matatu ambayo imejaa hivi huwa umefikiria vipi..” ha ha ha, I would hate to be the one who has gotten it to such. But with the ladies, got in one know it all male who was much more proud of his actions and said “Kama una shida bwana unune yako, hii ni gari ya abiria bana.

AND THAT IS WHERE THE TROUBLE BEGUN.

To be continued...

Why are your elbows poking at my sides?

She entered the matatu and dumped herself next to me. She sat with so much force that for a minute I felt the bus shake. Her friend sat on the opposite seat and they started chatting animatedly in 'Kiworia'. Her powerful perfume made my tummy replay the hunger sound effects, only, I wasn't hungry. Bloated.The guy at the back could hear them.

Her elbows were poking at my sides. Her head was almost lost in her biggunny handbag. Then she found it! Eureka! Chewing gum. She took two and gave her friend the other two. It seems she was from a nyama choma joint, because there was an omnipresent toothpick now being chewed along with the gum. Occasionally, she would spit mildly into the air, I guess to rid her mouth of the toothpick splinters and maybe the remaining pieces of meat.

I got off at my stop. Who cares about matatu etiquette anyway? Well I do.

1.  Take out your fare before you sit down

Ladies and gentlemen, please have your fare at hand before you get into the matatu if:
a) You are a man who will dig into his pockets looking for fare, in the process, 'touching' your seatmates thighs ovyo ovyo. Very uncomfortable.
b)  You are a woman who carries our big handy bags, which you have to dig through to find stuff. No one appreciates painful pokes to the sides and face.
Don't make me hurt you too.

2. No take away fries!! 

If you are carrying fries with you, open the window and hang them out in the air until you get to your destination. Evening rush hour has people spraying themselves with perfume/cologne before they leave the office. You know, you have to come out as fresh as you walked in, in the AM. Ubaya ni hujaoga. Then, there are those who don't bother spraying, so of course they sweat the whole day. Deal with it. The wind wronged us somehow, because opening a window in a matatu attracts nasty looks and unsolicited armpits on your face trying to shut the window for you. Look, it gets stuffy enough with the different perfumes. Yawa...eat the damn fries at Kenchic.

3. Buy ear/headphones

By all means, a matatu is public place/space. On one hand, one must contend with the fact that the seat will never be leather, or at least as clean, as you like them; or that the driver, and the matatu crew reserve the right (mostly) to choose whatever music you listen to.  Then again, that does not mean that when the air is dead, your neighbour takes it upon himself to unleash his music collection on the whole bus. Surely, who asked you? Uluhya tu :D

4. Lanes...

"Hatusemi wewe ni mnono, lakini ukikalia viti mbili, lipia." Loosely translated, "We ain't calling you fat, but if you occupy two seats, pay for them." Story for another day.

Now, unless you use matatus where there is always space for one more person (I will not mention names) one seat is ideally meant for one person. There are these guys who sit like they are in their own chauffeured Merc, feet splayed out to the other passenger's space...who of course does not have feet. Yeah. Of course. Lanes!! Oh, and while we are here get your feet off the aisle, someone might trip over them.

5. Mobile phones

Two words. You are not talking to the whole bus. Ok, those were more than two :D As much as we all 'love' Ghafla and all the juicy stories they feed us, we rarely want to listen to your stories live live. Some of us might pick them and blog about them. Others just want to sleep and drool all over their neighbours shoulders and the rest would like to ...I don't know...what do you like to do?

6. Excuse me....is not overrated.

When you get to your stop, and you were not sitting next to the aisle, please don't run over people in a bid to get to the door. Ebu nipite, or nashuka are not the words to use either. A simple excuse me, said audibly enough does the trick. That way you don't step on people's white Tomys  and expect them to have a pleasant day. Oh, and once you are told excuse me, please make way. If you know you filled up the whole seat, stand up and and allow the person to pass. That way, we avoid little embarrassments like my butt wiping all the make-up you took so much time to apply.

7. PDA's and related...

I don't know where to start with this one. Oh, I know. There are some pitiful men, who I have heard (thank God just heard) flash their wee wee(lol) to female passengers. Why? Why? Or ladies with overflowing cleavages. I will not say bad things. I'll leave it there.

Love is a beautiful thing, but PDA? It depends. Groping and doing all manner of things to your partner in the full view of other passengers is just insensitive. Gross. And I am not just saying that because I am ALLEGEDLY single. Lol! Get a room. Not just any enclosed space. A room.

8. Add another one here...

Phew! That felt nice...I have said my own. Enjoy your next ride :)

The People in my matatu

Nothing kills the boredom of sitting in traffic than a data enabled phone with twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Kindle...name it. Really? Imagine all the things you would actually SEE when you put down your phone and look around you. 

Reblogged from Clarity Central

I noticed the conductor’s black nail
His uncombed hair

His brown teeth and
His humongous belt buckle

I could smell  the diesel whenever the matatu accelerated

I could pick out the aroma of chicken and fries
Someone had carried some take out

I saw her fidgeting
Glancing at her phone every 5 minutes
Sometimes biting her lower lip whenever she glanced out the window

I could hear his techno music sipping through his earphones

I could hear a mother instructing the help to check her child’s diaper

I could hear the joyfully banter of the two colleges seated  in  the back

I saw the old man’s eyes flutter
He never seemed to stop yawning
I saw him adjust himself on the seat
Saw his eyelids slowly rest and his breathing slightly steadying.
Saw his head sway to the side as he napped

I saw the matatu speakers vibrating
Saw how dusty the carriage shelf was
I noticed how rusty the door hinges were starting to get.

I saw her squint and rub her eyes
I saw him motion to her to close the window
Saw her shake her head
I saw him clenching his fist and looking away

I smiled.

So this is what I miss when I’m fixated on my phone.