I want to tell you a funny story about something that happened to me recently. Oi. I should not have said ‘funny,’ because what if it is not funny haha? Well then maybe you will feel like I felt on that particular day- slightly embarrassed and very swindled.
Before we go any further I should offer the
disclaimer that I mostly do not trust Google Maps. It has taken me places I
should not have been in the first place. Imagine following that lady’s voice to
a burning bush near Mt. Sinai yet you were headed to a residence in upmarket
Nairobi. It is not funny. The destination on my right is not quite right, Ma
Google.
My preference for mode of transport within Nairobi is
matatus. If you are a regular foreigner on this blog you already know what
matatus are. The following description is for the newbies especially those who
do not live in this my country. Matatus are public service vehicles in Kenya.
If you do a quick matatu search on Google (and no, the irony is not lost on me)
you will see mini-buses with graffiti. A further scroll down south will reveal
14- seater nissans. Now that we are all hopefully on the same page, let’s
continue.
Matatus in Kenya have conductors who collect your
fare and alert the driver to stop where you are meant to alight. Side note, I was
on a plane the other day and I heard the air hostess telling us that we should
wait for the plane to come to a complete halt before we disembark. Allow me to
bring to your attention that you disembark from planes and sort of just alight
from matatus. Weird, because I think alight and flight rhyme so they should go
together. I will however not belabor this point because English came by ship
and entered my life through the back door and as such has never been my
official language.
Ah. The side note interrupted us. I was saying that
the good thing with matatus is that you can mostly trust the conductor to drop
you at the desired stage. Sometimes isht happens and you find yourself at the
burning bush because the conductor forgot so he gives you twenty bob to board
another matatu which charges you thirty bob to take you back to your stop.
Sigh. In spite of this and 99 other hiccups, matatus work just fine for me.
Now for the funny story… I urge you to laugh before
I begin. It will encourage me.
I was on the internets on this particular day when I
saw an ad by this man selling something of interest for what I thought was a
fair price. It was actually. I promptly booked the item(s) and asked for the
pin.
(Btw kumbe pin is not a universal language? Someone
from the UK asked me what that is when I casually told her “tuma pin.” I had to
explain that it is the map thing on Google).
A pin was sent. I asked if I could access the place
using matatus. I was so relieved when the response came in the affirmative
together with the name of the stop. I was then directed to call once I alight.
Now this is where it gets complicated. Sijui which devil whispered to this
woman, I mean me, to open Google Maps when I got off the matatu yawa. I loaded
my bundles and proceeded to walk a kilometer in a direction I thought was
accurate. A beg. It wasn’t. The good thing is that if I ever need to go to a
certain hospital or some particular posh residences, I will not have a problem.
I did an about turn like I was taught during my short lived scouting days and went back where I had come from. It seemed like I had gotten it right this time around because I crossed the road and saw a road that was displayed on the map. The lady kept telling me to just walk straight. I waaaaalked till I started doubting I was on the right track. I gave up and called an Uber. I could feel that I was close and reasoned that the most I would spend is 150 bob. I know. That is still a lot of money in these rona times, but I was tired owada.
Why did I not call the host as instructed? I don’t know. Imagine I
don’t. I don't know why are asking me questions that are causing me saviya pain. Anyway, the Uber comes and we begin a ten minute raundi mwenda in the area. For
those challenged in Kiswahili, raundi mwenda means going round in circles like
madness.
The map was not helping us. Two things, either the host had given me an inaccurate pin or Ma Google was not in the mood. Everyone we asked pointed us to Mt. Sinai, like the map. I finally remembered to call the host when we ran out of watchmen (pronounced soja for maximum respect) to ask for directions. I informed him as a matter of urgency that I was in an Uber about to update my Facebook status “Feeling lost with one other.” He gave very specific directions and in like two minutes the car was standing infront of his gate.
The Uber driver was the first to break the silence
after the engine quit covering the awkwardness.
“Madam, si ni hapa nilikuchukua?”
We had gone for raundi mwenda for ten minutes only to
end up at the exact spot the driver had picked me.
“That will be 180 shillings please,” he announced
before picking a call. He had another customer to attend to.
I calmly send him his money. It was that calmness for embarrassment and slight anger. Amid all these mafeelings, I managed to ask him what prayer he had made that morning because it clearly trumped mine.
“Mimi huwa naomba asubuhi madam. Wewe huwa huombi?
Anyway, hii story usichapie mtu. Itabidi umejiwekea tu. He said amid laugher.
How many stars did I give him? Well…
I mean, I had to burst out laughing at the absurdity
of it all. Surely. Why me? Me who just wanted to spend a maximum of 200 bob on
fare that day? Why do bad things happen to people trying to survive Nairobi?
And that, ladies and gentlemen is how I was reminded of how I operate. You send me a pin, I see it, ignore and proceed to choke and
affect you with phone calls until I reach your door step. I needed this
unfortunate experience on my wallet and time to get pointed back to my north,
without a map.
Matatu Methali of the Day: Tafadhali usishike dereva
mgongo!
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