A word about public transportation: it's insane. Laughable in its ridiculousity. Each mode is as entertaining as the name it is known by - Matatu, Tuktuk, Pikipiki. I live an hour outside Mombasa city center, which means several times a week I find myself gritting my teeth and boarding a matatu to the ferry. Matatus are reminiscent of 60s VW vans, but with 15 seats crammed inside. They're supposed to be equipped with seatbelts, but one time I found a working belt and clipped it over my lap, and the man sitting in front of me had the laugh of his life. At least there is usually no need to worry about looking like a stupid mzungu, since the interior of the van is so dilapidated that there are no seatbelts at all. Anyway, these deathvans bounce along the pitted roads, careening to avoid the ever-present bicyclists, tuktuks, pedestrians and men pulling carts (Men pulling carts, by the way, are kind of like the Kenyan version of ice cream trucks. They fill up big wooden carts with jugs of water, and pull the carts with 2 poles whittled from tree branches. It's the closest thing to water pipes to be found in rural areas, at least until the World Bank barges in, drool dripping from the corner of its shit-eating grin, a mere 2 years from now). The road, crammed as it is with people and carts and "cars" all trying to pass one another, seems like a madhouse of complete oblivion and chaos. But I think it might actually be controlled chaos, because accidents seem rare enough. Someone always weaves out of the way at the last moment. All the same, everytime I squeeze myself into a matatu I wonder if I should be calling my loved ones for a last goodbye. Last week, my matatu actually had to swerve off the road to avoid a head-on collision with a truck that was barreling down our lane. But your average run-of-the-mill trip involves the matatu driving on the wrong side of the road, toward an oncoming vehicle, until it either passes the cart or slams on its brakes and swerves back behind it.
The tuk-tuks (motorized carts) and piki-pikis (motorbikes) aren't much better. The use of helmets is another "law" that we can scoff at and throw out the window. Plus they're more expensive than matatus, which cost 20-50 cents depending.
Oh, and don't even get me started on the ferries! Hundreds of people crammed on a smallish boat with standing room only, for a 20-minute passage that would be 2 minutes if there was a bridge. Watch out for sly pick-pockets standing unnoticed in the throng, waiting to slash your bag. Don't worry, if you notice them stealing your wallet they'll be at the mercy of mob justice within 30 seconds after you cry out, "Mwizi! Thief!". They might be stoned to death or burned alive, but justice is justice, right?
In the end, public transportation is what it is. Its a whole lot easier to go with the flow than to stress out. It's convenient, cheap and it provides jobs. On the bright side, its easy to live without a car here, which is nice since no one can afford one. But I'm finding that "going with the flow" here means not being in a rush. I'm learning to slow down, to walk alongside the rest of Mombasa. It carries its own rhythm, moving at a pace I can't quite explain. Anyway, it works.
The tuk-tuks (motorized carts) and piki-pikis (motorbikes) aren't much better. The use of helmets is another "law" that we can scoff at and throw out the window. Plus they're more expensive than matatus, which cost 20-50 cents depending.
Oh, and don't even get me started on the ferries! Hundreds of people crammed on a smallish boat with standing room only, for a 20-minute passage that would be 2 minutes if there was a bridge. Watch out for sly pick-pockets standing unnoticed in the throng, waiting to slash your bag. Don't worry, if you notice them stealing your wallet they'll be at the mercy of mob justice within 30 seconds after you cry out, "Mwizi! Thief!". They might be stoned to death or burned alive, but justice is justice, right?
In the end, public transportation is what it is. Its a whole lot easier to go with the flow than to stress out. It's convenient, cheap and it provides jobs. On the bright side, its easy to live without a car here, which is nice since no one can afford one. But I'm finding that "going with the flow" here means not being in a rush. I'm learning to slow down, to walk alongside the rest of Mombasa. It carries its own rhythm, moving at a pace I can't quite explain. Anyway, it works.
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