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.
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