Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Nairobi ... and the matatus!!
This will be another long post. Sorry about that ... but I was not able to use Blogger while in Nairobi because for some reason the computers in the hotel did not have the correct "cookie" settings to use the Blogger software. Bummer! Anyway - I'll probably make two or three "final" posts, talking about my time in Nairobi. In fact, they may all come on the same day. So watch for it! :)
Nina and I had a couple of long flights and a long layover in Amsterdam. We arrived in Nairobi on Thursday, July 9. Although I had a couple of days to unwind, get my body clock adjusted to the significant time change, and to explore the city a bit, Nina hit the ground running, literally dashing off to her first meeting as the cab from the airport dropped us at the conference center.
In a future post, I will write more about Amani and about the conference center where Nina and I stayed and about some of the other random things we did while there. But I wanted to start in this post by writing about the matatus. That sounds like a strange place to start, but my rides on the matatus came to symbolize all of the mental and emotional processing that I did while we were in Kenya.
Recently, I was reading an article about the economics of poverty. I can't find the actual article that I was reading, but here is a similar article that I just Googled: http://bulletin.aarp.org/states/ne/2009/20/articles/poverty_economics_101_poor_pay_more.html - very logical, and very interesting.
Matatus are the public transportation in Kenya. The concept is that of a "shared taxi". See this article in Wikipedia about them. The photo that I've included here is actually one that Nina took (thanks, n.!). The matatus are essentially 15-passenger vans (that often hold 20 or more people). They run particular routes, and you can get on or off at will. If you want to pick up a matatu along a certain route, you flag them down. When you want to get off, you notify the conductor (by tapping him, or telling him that you want to get off, or by tapping on the roof...) Using the matatus to navigate Nairobi was an obvious choice for me because using a cab to get from the conference center (where Nina's conference was being held and where we were staying) would have been VERY expensive. The matatus ended up costing me less than $5 a day. Interestingly, though, referring to the concept of the economics of poverty - I quickly realized that one single matatu ride from the Brackenhurst Conference Center to Amani in Westlands would take anywhere from 1.5 hours to over two hours, depending on traffic, time of day, etc. Thus, 3 or 4 hours of my day every day was spent on public transportation. Essentially "wasted" time - but it really struck me that this is how thousands (if not millions!) of people in Nairobi get to/from their daily activities ... including many of the women who work at Amani ... the economics of poverty.
One of the Amani ladies, Catherine, lives up toward where the Brackenhurst Conference Center is located (near the suburb of Limuru). Previous to my arrival in Nairobi, she advised me about the route numbers of the matatus to look for, so I (thought I) was all set. Since I had those extra days, I decided to use Thursday and Friday (July 9 and 10) to "practice" and explore the routes that I would need to take to get to Amani the following week.
To get from the Brackenhurst campus to the main road, there is a long driveway (down a somewhat steep hill) that takes about 10 or 15 minutes to walk. It's a pretty walk. At the main road, I would flag whatever matatu was coming down the hill (the #116). This matatu would take me to the end of the route ("to town"). Usually, the cost was about 70 or 80 Kenyan Shillings ($1 equals about 75 Kenyan Shillings). One driver charged me 50. Other times they charged me 100. Catherine said that it could depend on the number of riders or even on the weather. I'm sure that they were also ripping off the only white woman who they'd probably see riding all day.
Once in town, it took me some time to figure out that to get from the end of the #116 from Limuru, there is a three-block walk to catch the next matatu (the #48 or #48A) which would take me from town to the road where Amani is located. The first time I ran the route, I had a "nice man" (toothless, and obviously a con man) attempt to help show me the right place to find the #48's - but he took me in the wrong direction to the wrong lot and then asked me for a handout. Doh!
Typically, from the moment I left the Brackenhurst for that walk down the driveway, through my entire ride to Amani (and also the reverse), I never saw a single other person who wasn't black/African. I am SURE that I stood out significantly. Often, the other passengers in the matatus included those of whom I probably ought to have been scared. I kept reminding myself that Brittany and Rachel both ride the matatus alone when they are in Nairobi. And Brittany has beautiful red hair. So I figured that if they could, I could!
I often felt that the conductors (the men who hang out the side of the matatu, calling for riders and collecting the ever-changing fares) were looking out for me - often making sure that they knew ahead of time where I wanted to get off, and often making sure that I knew where i was to go next if I looked confused. Often, but not always. :)
One time, I was sitting in a seat in the middle of the matatu, and there was a man next to me who I thought I needed to keep an eye on. At the next stop, the people in the front seat got off, and immediately the conductor pointed to me and motioned me to sit in front, next to the driver. I wonder if he was also concerned about me sitting next to that man...
Another time, during an afternoon ride back to the Brackenhurst, my matatu was only taking me from town to Banana (a town halfway up the hill to Limuru where I sometimes had to change matatus in order to finish the trip to the Brackenhurst). I always carry my fare in the my fist so that I don't have to fish around in my wallet and so that I can be sure as to whether or not I've already paid. This particular day in question, I handed the conductor my fare AS I get on the matatu (30 shillings). THAT was my mistake. I should have waited until he asked me for it. After I paid, there were quite a few stops with lots of passengers getting on and off. Part way up the hill, the conductor was collecting fares - including from me. I tried to explain that I had already paid, but he insisted on 30 shillings. I definitely didn't feel comfortable arguing with him, on "his" matatu, in "his" city, surrounded by other Africans, and ME unable to speak Swahili. Nope. I simply paid again, but did not relish having to open my wallet in front of other riders. And, really, 30 shillings is less than 50 cents. No big deal, right?
Well, at first, that little "story" about paying twice amused me. But I was soon sobered on it. The next morning at Amani's morning prayers, one of the women shared a "thanksgiving". She was on the matatu coming to work at Amani that morning, sitting near the back of the matatu. Suddenly the police came, pulled the matatu over, and arrested the conductor. (At this point in her story, I wasn't sure how it was going to be a "thanksgiving"....) She was SO thankful because the conductor had already collected fares from the riders in front, but not from those in the back. She would not have been able to afford to pay the fare the second time, and was SO grateful that it hadn't been paid yet. I was QUITE humbled - just the day before I had been joking about having to pay twice. :(
The ride down (up in the afternoons) the hill from the Brackenhurst took me through many poor areas, where the "homes" were often shacks made from old, rusty, corrugated tin sheets, and where vendors set up their own shacks lining the streets. There would be huge numbers of matatus everywhere (like in Nina's picture above), donkeys with carts, and pedestrians walking EVERYWHERE. Banana was by far the busiest of these areas - and probably also the most dangerous. During one ride up the hill, I was contemplating the abject poverty and the lifestyles that I was seeing out the window. I looked up and saw a small church which was made of the same worn-looking metal sheet walls. What caught my eye was the sign over the door: "I will enter His gates with thanksgiving". I am constantly impressed (and humbled) by the amazingly grateful attitudes held by African Christians living in poverty. We "Westerners" often attach our thankful attitudes to materials things that come our way. But here is this church that obviously has little in the way of material "stuff", and is probably attended by people of very little means. Yet the reminder to enter with thanksgiving seems so joyful. I looked at that little church every time I remembered to do so, up and down the hill, for the week and a half that I was there ... and will continue to remind myself what true THANKFULNESS should be about: having a true relationship with Christ.A more serious story involving the matatus goes something like this. On Thursday afternoon, July 16, I decided that I wanted to ride the matatus home with Catherine, the Amani woman who lives up near Banana and who helped me figure out what routes to take when I first arrived in Nairobi. When I told her that I wanted to ride with her, she reminded me that she is responsible for closing the Amani shop between 4:30 and 5:00 (I was usually leaving around 4:00-ish, after afternoon prayers). She also reminded me that she has to wait until all of the customers are gone, even if it's after 5:00. No problem. (Right?)
Well, while I was waiting for her, around 4:45 or so, a large group of Americans came in. Around 5:00, I started thinking that I should head home alone. But I kept convincing myself to wait another 5 minutes ... another 5 minutes ... well, Catherine was finally done with her customers and duties about 5:30 and we left right away (she seemed a bit concerned, too). Once on the street, it took us over 20 minutes to find a #48 with ANY extra seats on it. When one finally came along, we got stuck in Nairobi rush hour traffic. When we finally got to town and walked to the other matatu lot, the first one leaving was only going as far as Banana, meaning that I would have to change matatus at Banana. In the daylight, that sounded rather "do-able"....
By the time that we got all the way up the hill to Catherine's stop (before Banana), we both knew that it was too late (due to impending darkness) and that there was nothing that could be done for me to stop it. Ugh! After Catherine got off, a strange man sat down next to me and started talking with me in a flirtatious way that made me a bit uncomfortable. I was afraid that he would follow me in Banana, or (worse) up to the Brackenhurst. I tried my best to ignore him, and he finally left me alone. When we got to Banana, I waited until everyone else was off the matatu before getting off, hoping that the strange, flirty man would be gone and not follow me. Once alone with the driver and conductor, and once they found out that I wanted to go to the Brackenhurst, they offered to take (just) me there for 1500 shillings. Then, when I refused, they started asking me how much money I had with me, attempting to barter me down. No way! Finally, they realized that I wasn't going to go with them, they agreed to show me where the matatu to Limuru was. They even drove me there. It was already almost completely dark out. I made sure that the conductor knew that I was going to the Brackenhrst. While waiting to leave Banana, and while driving up the hill, there were a zillion negative self-talk things that I did to scare myself. First of all, the lights INSIDE the matatu are left ON after dark - great for security INSIDE the matatu, but not so great for seeing OUT to know if I'd missed my stop. I HAD to rely on the conductor to remember to get me off. And I was concerned that someone from the matatu would follow me up the hill while I was walking. AND/OR I was worried that someone already on the main road or on the Brackenhurst driveway would follow me. I had myself resolved that my purse would be stolen - and was quite convinced that I was going to be raped before getting back to my room. By the time the conductor told me that we were at the Brackenhurst, I was terrified. When I went to get out of the matatu, the conductor said "you're going alone!?" That did NOT help relieve my fearfulness. Even the conductor was worried......
Once on the Brackenhurst driveway, I was determined to walk as fast as possible, to ignore ANYone I saw, and to PRAY the whole time....
As I came around the first of several hairpin turns in Brackenhurst's driveway, I saw a man standing there (remember - pitch black darkness now) in the road. As I attempted to rush past him, he fell into step next to me and tried to talk to me. I didn't even try to hear what he was saying - I just put my head down and walked a LOT faster. He only kept up with me for a few moments, and then stayed where he was. After that, I nearly RAN up the hill.
Interestingly, the Brackenhurst driveway (about 1 km or more long) is quite poorly paved - very uneven, full of huge pot holes, and has several speed bumps along the way. On a smooth surface in broad daylight I am NOT typically very sure-footed. Yet, on this very dark evening, when I couldn't even see the ground at my feet, and when I hadn't made my usual change into my walking shoes, I did NOT trip or even slightly stumble - not even one little time along the way. Just one of many of the Lord's protections on me that evening.
When I only had a little bit longer to go before the Brackenhurst main gate, I noticed that a motor-scooter was following me at a distance. If I paused, it paused ... if I wlked faster, it started up again. I thought maybe it was the man who had followed me.....
Well, I finally reached the main gate in one piece. I had to go to the reception desk to pick up our room key (where Nina and I would leave it when neither of us was in the room). I was fighting back tears and panting like crazy, and a security guard was standing there talking to the evening receptionist. They commented on my breathing and I replied that I had just practically run up the hill. The security guard made a quick call on his walkie-talkie, and then told me that the man who had tried to talk with me was also a Brackenhurst security guard, and that he could have called up to the Brackenhurst for a ride for me. They pressed me on why I refused to talk with him and how I didn't see his nametag. But the definitely seemed to appreciate my explanation that I didn't realize that Brackenhurst has security down near the main road, and that I thought it would be dangerous to turn and face a strange man in that situation. The receptionist also agreed that it was dangerous for me to have come home on the matatus so late at night.
I had never been SO scared. In fact, I don't remember ever being so terrified in my whole life. But God is SO good. He made sure that I was protected on the portion of the journey that I thought was going to be the most dangerous.
My physical reaction to the stress was that it took over 24 hours for me to stop shaking and to get my appetite back. I still shake a bit thinking about it.
I spent much of the week at Amani working with Judy. Judy has a long scar across her face. She was walking home from work one day last year and was attacked by someone with a machete. I have spent a lot of time contemplating that Judy has no choice about how she gets to/from work - even after her horrible experience. What was only a scary possibility in my mind was reality for Judy. And while after a week and a half I was able to leave the world of matatus and the land where women are property which can be "stolen", Judy has no choice but to continue in her mode of transportation to and from work every day for the unforeseeable future. Quite sobering....
Well, thank you for reading this far ... and I will probably write one or two more posts in the next couple of days. Please check back!
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