There are, relatively speaking few cars in Kenya. Ordinary folks cannot easily afford a car (and not surprisingly privately owned vehicles have often seen better days). For most Kenyans, and for us “ordinary folks”, the “matatu” is the travel mainstay.
Matatus are VW-type mini-buses fitted with seats so that 14 passengers can sit four-across. They are old and most often in bad repair. The majority have a stereo system of sorts and occasionally the sound is good enough so that the lyrics can be understood - black African rap - both the lyrics and the decibel levels capable of harming the human ear.
Inside the matatu is decorated is upholstered in mactac and or garish vinyl, sometimes sporting mini pom-poms around the borders, with stickers pasted here and there extolling a favorite English football (soccer) team, starlet/singer or Jesus. The exteriors are mostly white in color, badly in need of bodywork and often displaying inspiring names painted on the back and/or sides – The Killer Machine, The Rasta Masta, Heaven Bound, Meet my Grill. I daresay in mny cases the slogan-work is more expensive than the vehicles itself . Most quote John 3:16 or some biblical message somewhere.
Until legislation was enacted about 4 years ago, to limit the number of passengers theycould carry and to require regulators to limit their speed on treacherous Kenyan roads, matatus helped Kenya lead the world in traffic fatalities.
It is I think impossible to describe the riding experience so as to do it justice. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands on the roads. On a Saturday morning ride to Nairobi they are like thick as flies on Thika Road, outnumbering cars at least 10:1. They are marked with numbers corresponding to their route. They drive their route as if they alone belong on the road. There are unsigned but pre-ordained stops, although they will stop virtually anywhere to pick up a passenger. They race from stop to stop, believing apparently that the first one to reach the next stop will pick up the most passengers and at days-end have made the most circuits of the route, and therefore the most money. It is usual to have 3 or 4 competitors drive to a stopping place on the highway. They honk their horns as they arrive, pull diagonally in front of one another, without a care for blocking the road at that point. The “tout” then jumps out of the sliding door on the side, shouting out their destination, perhaps holding up the number of the route on a small card, and attempts to persuade people at the stop to ride their vehicle. (Today we were near a stop, attempting to cross the road. We had no desire to ride anywhere at the time yet two different touts tried to guide us onto their vehicles, while we protested that we were just crossing the road.) Often passengers will board with a purchase – a bedframe or a large metal car part, for instance. When all available passengers have been boarded the driver honks, starts away, cuts in front of whatever other driver might already be on the road and the tout jumps on. The driver then drives hell-bent for the next stop. To get there he will drive on the left, right or middle of the road, on the right or left shoulder or in either ditch. Nothing is to stand in his or her way of attempting to be first to the next stop. We are sometimes incredulous of the games of chicken they play as they all try to be first to enter an opening into a line of traffic or at an intersection.
I don’t recall seeing other whites on them, and some Kenyans seem astonished as to why we rich “wazungu” are boarding them. The children and (often) the adults stare unbelievingly, but we are generally treated respectfully and honestly.
And there are good reasons for using them. First, they are so numerous that we never wait more than a few minutes for a ride. Next, (and most important) they are amazingly cheap. The 30-minute ride to Nairobi is 30 shillings each – about 50 cents! Finally, they are an unforgettable part of this Kenyan cultural experience.
