By by fel
Having lived in Nairobi, you realize that the day does not actually start before you have successfully gone through the matatu frenzy. It is not simply a public transport it is a micro-cultural world and a moving educational room or even a survival game. To thousands of us, it is the first and last chapter of each workday surrounded by noise of thumping music, conductor dramas, and even shattered seats. I now use my everyday commute as a journey to town than just a means of transportation. It is a story that writes itself each morning as it is full of real life, raw feelings and some thoughts on the urban life of the most chaotic city of Kenya.
The Morning Rush Begins
At 6 45 a. m, I am at the junction with estate with other commuters. There are those scrolling quietly on your phone and those who are staring at matatu hoping to predict which will come first and which ones will not develop a technical fault along the journey. Schoolchildren in their large pullovers tug and their guardians, boda riders pass very close to them, the shopkeepers are only opening their shutters. Next one hears the loud honking of the matatu. It turns the corner like it owns the road music shaking its windows, graffiti art shouting louder than the engine, and the conductor already halfway out the door yelling, “Tao! Tao! Tao moja! Haraka ni sasa!” Thinking has no time. You push, you shimmy, you hope there is room.
Inside the Moving Theatre
Things are all going on concurrently inside a matatu. The music is slapping- gengetone, reggae, and old school R&B. It always has at least one passenger that wants to scream over it on the phone, and another one that is eagerly watching TikTok videos without headphones. Even a lady next to me is holding on to her bag with an eye on everybody. The boy in the back seat of a high school kid is laughing with the conductor who appears to be underage to drive, much less to drive a fare. Chairs are covered with worn ‘kitenge’ with some tied by hope and rusty bolts. If you’re lucky, the windows open. Otherwise, you will sweater and keep quiet. And yet there’s an odd rhythm to it all. This is the heart of Nairobi. Unstable, wild and yet dynamic.
Conversations and Conflicts on the Go
There is always drama in every matatu ride. Some person shall have dispute on fare. Somebody will miss his or her stop. The driver will be told to reduce the music by someone. Nobody pays attention to anything. However, it is also full of calm, amazing moments. Two females connecting through a common man. A man assisting a stranger with the directions. A mother who is encouraging son as he is going to school. Once I watched how a young man got up his place to offer to an older lady and gave her his headphones so that she could hear Miriam Makeba. The remainder of the ride she smiled. The matatu was that day a moving house.
The Lessons I Carry
I have learned a lot more than routes and shortcuts after years of commuting. I’ve learned:
- Have the right change at hand, it is not a wise person to bargain with conductor.
- Use your instincts you cannot tell who is driving a red flag on wheels out of some matatus.
- At peak hours never enter an empty matatu because, there is a reason why it is empty.
- When you speak privately, you can witness the witnessing, the frustrated tales, the out loud dreams.
Above all, I have also realized what the Nairobians are strong. We put up with the commute and the sweat and the traffic, and the noise, because there is something we are working towards; a job, a dream and a life of improved conditions.
Conclusion
In Nairobi, matatu is not only a car but a culture. It is where the city is exposed at full color, at full volume and at full character. It’s where rich and poor, young and old, meet for a brief moment on the same road, breathing the same dusty air, hoping to make it to their destination in one piece. Whenever I get off the bus in the morning onto Moi Avenue or Kenyatta Avenue, I am still bearing that spirit: noisy, dirty, with a lot to say, and determined to be resilient. And tomorrow will I do it all over again.
