Nairobi is not the prettiest place in the world. Having not spent much time in Africa I probably should have thought a bit more about what to expect but sometimes it’s best to jump in and hope for the best (for those of you who know me well you will now have realised I am too lazy to do any proper research into anything so this is my default setting).
It’s dirty, hectic, chaotic, intimidating, colourful, vibrant, confusing but definitely not dull.
It’s not helped by the fact that just about every major road is being rebuilt by the Chinese at the moment. The net result is complete meltdown on the roads, it takes ages to get anywhere and the traffic is like nothing else I have ever seen.
Try to imagine a two lane road, littered with potholes the size of moon craters, with six or seven randomly arranged lanes of traffic, often going in alternate directions all squeezing for space. It is further complicated by the dozens of people who risk life and limb to pick their way on foot through the traffic selling the most bizarre array of goods you can imagine. I have been offered the chance to buy beautiful roses that look completely out of place with their splash of colour amid the choking fumes and billowing dust (get me being all poetic), toy helicopters, fluffy white rabbits, skirts, t-shirts, watches, puppies, small children, TV Aerials, jump leads, Manchester United shirts (authentic of course), bags of green stuff (that’s as good as I can describe it, not sure whether you planted it, cooked it or smoked it to be honest), fruit, kittens, mobile phones and DVD’s including the new Toy Story film (they must have a special licence deal here) amongst other things – the ultimate drive through retail experience.
At rush hour, which seems to last from around 6am until 9pm, you will often find police standing at what could loosely be described as junctions. There is obviously no Swahili translation for give way because it is a free for all and you have to take your life in your hands and just go for it. Fortunately there seems to be no Swahili equivalent for road rage either as everyone seems pretty accepting that you can be cut up from any direction at any time and it is perfectly reasonable to nudge you out of the way or be driving down your lane in the opposite direction. Brake lights are required not to be functioning before you are allowed on the road and indicating also seems to be actively discouraged. The police seem to stand there and let it all happen around them, to be honest I’m not sure they could do much about it anyway!
I was terrified when I first got here and that was being a passenger driven by the expert Brian who has grown up driving around here. I’ve never been anywhere where it is so hard to get your bearings or sense of direction. Probably because most of the time you move at walking (that’s being generous) pace and don’t really get to follow where you are going.
The situation on the roads is made infinitely worse by the thousands of small minibuses called matatu that are everywhere and the mode of transport for those who aren’t walking or running (people seem to run everywhere) in between the lines of traffic. Matatu drivers must be selected at birth and given a lifetime of training in how to banish fear, squeeze a minibus through a gap you wouldn’t get a bike through and become experts at Tetris. Tetris (the computer game where you fit random shapes together in a confined space for all you old farts) can be the only grounding for how they cram so many people into such a small vehicle. Painted on the side, if you can see through the thick dust, they say they can carry 14 people (no stipulation on how much livestock you can squeeze in as well but the allowance seems pretty generous, I have seen a calf in one, really). Unless there is a little known tribe in Kenya where people have six heads I don’t think they are sticking to the rules.
The vast majority are painted with slogans like ‘Jesus is the only way’ or ‘God guides us all’ or similar. These are either a corporate message the owners subscribe to and the drivers don’t give a monkeys about or the drivers manage to park their religious leanings and Christian beliefs as soon as they start their engines.
There seems to be no set route they follow or where they will stop to pick up passengers, quite often they don’t bother to stop and the sliding door on the side will open and the would be passenger runs alongside and dives in when he gets close enough. These guys run pretty quickly and 20mph doesn’t seem a problem to catch up the bus and jump into a confined space with about 18 people, half a dozen chickens and a goat already inside.
Anything that won’t fit inside is lashed on top of the roof, including the odd passenger. I have narrowly escaped being decapitated by a plastic garden chair that fell off the top of a speeding matatu and bounced over the top of our car.
Having said all this it is amazing how quickly you adjust. I have been driving here less than a week and would now consider myself one of the worst drivers in the world in terms of obeying the rules of the road and consideration of fellow travellers, it’s the only way to get around – my Dad will be so proud that the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree!
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