Nairobi Traffic episode one

It is after one of those classified escapades that I decide to have a taste of Nairobi’s public transport. This funny guy advises me to try Githurai 45 Matatus. Little did I know he was starting me with the hardcore stuff. He drops me off at a bus terminus called Tusker (no one I consult around seems to know the origin of that name). The last instructions he shouts are “watch your wallet, watch your money, watch your everything, and have the exact fare in your hands, then he drives off with a cunning grin on his face”
The first thing that hits my ears are the loud shrills, shouts, chirps and all manner of noises from hordes of young men (I think I see a lady too) screaming 45!! 50!! Githu, Roysa, fije with fists raised up high towards the sky. There are almost a hundred busses crammed into a tiny space and all picking clients at the same time in a very haphazard way. The combined noise of this confusion must be 300 decibels; I wonder how people survive this daily.  My orientation decodes that 45 is the route number, 50 is the price and the other words are stages and bus stops along the way and repetitions of the price in sheng.
I instantly position myself along a wall, curiously scanning everything around me, and obviously pressing my back pocket firmly away from pickpockets as I watch other passengers were boarding. One of the touts comes to me, briefly inquires of my destination and directs me into the bus I had seen him hanging from in the shouting march manner. I pause for a split second as I step into the bus to admire the body works. This monster has been remodeled to look like a second edition transformer. Bearing photos and names of obviously famous people and screaming paintworks, the beast looks really awesome say for some scratch marks on the tips.
The inside is something else, from the door the music is too loud it stuns me for a millisecond, my heart is racing so fast by the time I get a seat. I can feel my blood throb with every thundering beat from the tens of speakers and woofers all over the vehicle. I taste salt in my teeth and I think I am going to puke, I grab my seat and close my eyes tightly until the feeling wears off. All this while, passengers are boarding oblivious of this stranger under culture shock.
From my seat I can count at least ten television screens broadcasting music videos, I spot a cctv camera and through a slot on the paneling that separates the drivers cabin from the rest of us, I can see a tiny screen constantly oscillating between music videos and a live feed of what’s happening in the passenger area.  A few passengers complain that the bus is taking too long to fill….. {to be continued in episode two}