Kenyan public transport, where anything can happen

It is about time to dedicate a post to the very soul of Nairobi, being the infinite number of matatus, nissans and busses rushing in every direction day and night. That's right, you don't know Nairobi untill you've managed the public transport system.

Now, to begin with a bit of background information, there are as mentioned three kinds of public vehicles in Nairobi. The most common ones are Nissans, which have room for 14 persons (often written as "14 blacks" or "14 Kenyans" on the side of the vehicle). However, they usually carry at least 15 or 16 persons. You will find all sorts of Nissans, from the plain, quiet ones going into posh estates, to the really noisy ones, painted in any colour you can imagine, that operate in the ghetto areas. The latter are of course the preferred ones, because as they ususally write on the walls: "If you don't like the noise, buy your own car".

The next ones are the infamous matatus. They look like giant beetles trespassing the crazy Kenyan traffic, ususally carrying thrice their capacity. These ones generally have a TV in front and a bass that would make any "russebuss" rust in shame. Then there are the bigger, but calmer busses, more predictable but also boring. Their names are however very interesting, some of them being "Stalingrad Shuttle", "Mexico City" and "The Negotiator".

I have lost count of all the marriage proposals I have gotten on public vehicles. The most memorable however, went something like this: "You see, this matatu has six wheels and one spare wheel. I am the matatu conductor, and so I also need a spare wheel, would you like to be my spare wheel?".
I didn't...

But on our trips through the jungle of public transport we have also made some great friendships, the most important one being Charles. Charles works downtown on the public transport station. His job is to get clients for the Nissans going to our part of town, and negotiating the prices (which vary from 10 to 70 shillings, depending on the length of the trip, time of day, weather and how much you look like a tourist that day). After running into him a few times, Charles has become our good friend. We have had a few nice talks while waiting for a Nissan to come along, and he always gives us good prices even if it comes out of his own pocket. He is one of many examples that Kenyans are genuinely friendly and hospitable people who always look to make newcomers feel at home. Slowly by slowly, my scepticism towards helpful Kenyans is replaced by gratitude that not all countries welcome visitors the way Norway does...

We have had a few memorable incidents on our Nissan rides. Just the other day we ended up being the centre of a heated discussion. The conductor, handles the money on the vehicles, had made a mistake and given us back the wrong amount of change. As we made this clear to him, he refused to give us the rest. Before we knew it every passenger on the nissan was involved and from the many sharp comments given to the conductor (in swahili of course) we picked up phrases like "...God saw what you did..." and "... call the police...". The change that the conductor wouldn't return was an equivalent of 7 NOK.

Today Audhild and I went to do some errands closer to town. We were coming back on a Nissan and had just reached the junction that leads to our area when the vehicle suddenly turned around and went another way. Feeling somewhere between excited and worried, we asked the driver what was going on. "There is a police patrol ahead, so we need to take a detour", was the answer I got. My question on why the driver didn't want to run into the police was elegantly avoided: "the officers are too harsh these days..."

It's all part of the everyday excitement: getting into the Nissans, Matatus and Busses not knowing exactly where you will end up, how much you'll have to spend or what kind of interesting characters you will run into. One thing is certain in any case: I'm not longing to get back to the half-empty, quiet public transport of Norway anytime soon.

(Pictures by Ragnhild E. Opdal)