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| Friday, August 04, 2006 |
| MATATU RIDE |
I board the 'matatu' as usual. It is seven in the morning. This is a normal routine. I have to be in class by eight. It is the cold month of July.
Anyone who has lived in Nairobi knows how bad the traffic is especially in the morning and the evening. Curse rush hour. The ‘matatu’ drivers are very informed when it comes to knowing the shortcuts to town. It takes one, twenty minutes to get to town with the ‘matatu’. It takes forty minutes without the shortcut.
I want to tell you about that shortcut that I have now come to really appreciate for it has taught me a lot in life. Houses cramped together, people busy walking up and down, women making ‘mandazi’ and ‘chapati’ in the open, trying to sell them as breakfast. Other women crowding in the communal wash area with huge piles of clothes, others are making a long line at the communal bathroom. Men and women have spread mats on the ground trying to sell shoes and clothes. The clothes and shoes go at very low prices; even with ten shillings you can get something.
This reminds me of how hard life is for some people, but the interesting thing is that they have come to accept their situation for they don’t know of another life. They don’t have dull faces. They are laughing and gossiping, or quarreling on who was first on the line. Children are jumping up and down as they walk to school. From the look of their uniforms you could tell they have been worn for a long time, but they don’t care, they don’t walk in embarrassment, actually I don’t think they even notice. They are all equal.
Further down the road as the matatu takes another turn I see houses being made; Poverty eradication houses. One roomed houses with communal bathrooms and toilets; I read that in the newspapers. That reminded me that there are still people with no houses to live in, not because there are no houses, but its because they cant afford rent. Interestingly these poverty eradication houses, are much better than those around it made of wood or mud or iron sheets.
The matatu moves faster on the rough road. Then I see a sight that pulls my heart. An old man, his trouser folded up, standing in a big pool of dirty water, with a rake in his hand trying to remove plastic paper and dirt from the pool. It is so cold and he doesn’t have anything warm, he has no protective gear on, and the chance of him catching some disease from there is almost certain. Just then a man walks by and damps a plastic bag in the pool of water. The old man stops and looks up at him. The young man walks away, pretending not to realize what he has done. I curse after him. This reminds me of how unfair life is.
We are now almost in town. We pass through one of the largest markets in the city, commonly known as “gikomba”. The place is so busy, the matatu driver has to drive slowly and hoot his way through. Women and men were trying to sell their vegetables, clothes and other things, to wholesale buyers. Then something interesting gets my eye. A young man is shouting on top of his voice to anyone who cares to listen in the market. No one seems to pay attention to him, but that does not seem to bother him, he continues preaching vigorously as he paces up and down. People shove him as they try to pass with their heavy goods, but he seems used to it. As the matatu passes him, I wondered what he is trying to accomplish. Is he genuine in his preaching?
I notice street boys trying to steal fruits or whatever they can from unsuspecting sellers. As usual they are inhaling glue, I hear it helps them keep warm and also sane. Somberness for them is unbearable. Living in the streets is hard it can be psychologically damaging. Some of the good ones are walking around looking for casual work; like carrying heavy goods for buyers. i see a man pulling a heavy cart full of fiid. I wonder how he manages to do it. He tries to hurry up so as not to inconvenience drivers. You could see the effort and the struggle on his face. It is early in the morning and freezing cold, but he is sweating. The sad part of it all is that he earns peanuts despite of the amount of energy he puts in.
We are now in town. Asians are now opening their shops. People are hurriedly walking to work. Some of the passengers become impatient with the traffic in town and decide to get out of the ‘matatu’. I notice an old bar still open. It looks dirty. Some of the windows are broken, and the door is still open. I wonder to myself, who goes to a bar at eight in the morning. Then a man staggers out, and I realize no one comes to the bar eight in the morning; they are usually there the whole night till morning. What a pathetic life I say to myself, the man must be having some serious problems in his life. There should be more psychiatrists in Kenya, but then again, who can afford them apart from the rich.
The matatu comes to a stop. Time to face my day, I alight the matatu and walk to college.
My day is typically routine full of lectures and talking with people. Seven in the evening I start my journey back home. I board a matatu and take the same route back home. Interestingly the environment is now different. I see the same bar and it is still open, but now there are young girls standing outside trying to lure the men to come in. I don’t judge them, life as I said is never fair, and who am I to judge.
The crowed residential area is now deserted; it is too unsafe to be walking around now. You could see dim lights in various houses; electricity is a luxury some cannot afford. Its dark outside so there isn’t much one can see. I alight at my stop and hurriedly walk home. Tomorrow is another day. I will board a matatu and I will see the same thing. Each day I learn something new from my ride to town, and am humbled. It makes me wonder has modernization and urbanisation has done us more harm than good. |
posted by milayetu @ 6:57 AM  |
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