The Matatu

For the past week I've been staying about 20-30 mins out of town in a suburb of Nairobi called Karen and have been using local mini-buses, known as matatus. The matatu is the primary mode of transportation in and around Nairobi as far as I can tell. I remember matatus from my previous visits as being large, elaborately decorated 'buses' of sorts with passengers standing in the aisles and hanging from the doorways. Apparently the government realized that this type of arrangement posed significant safety risks and in recent years has clamped down and started enforcing regulations regarding number of passengers (14 max), licensed drivers, and uniform appearance (white with a yellow stripe) of the matatus.

Despite the threat of said regulations I think it's still safe to say that you're taking your life in your hands when you hop onto a matatu. Each matatu has a driver and 'conductor' of sorts responsible for calling a stop to pickup/drop off passengers as well as collect the fare. I've noticed on all of the matatus I have ridden that both the driver and conductor invariably have tear filled, blood shot, glassy eyes and offer a blank, zombie start that doesn't exactly inspire confidence. They also often appear to chew some kind of grassy looking material which I have been told is to help them stay awake for long hours of driving.

Being that these small mini-buses lack any 'next-stop' buzzer to tell the driver to stop, the conductor and driver use a complex system of either tapping a coin against the window, a harsh, piercing sound meaning 'stop' to pickup/drop off, or a few bangs against the outside door to signal 'go time' accompanied by a running jump back into the matatu as it gets rolling. Another common practice I was somewhat caught off guard by is that of filling up at the gas station with the engine still running!

What the matatu lacks in western safety standards and practices, it makes up for in fun, cheap experience. It is a great, cheap way to get around; bones and bus rattling in unison along eroded, pot-holed roads, with music blasting from small, tinny speakers, a friendly kenyan with a big, bright smile squeezed in next to you, and a warm breeze in your face.