Nairobi Traffic Episode two

A few passengers complain that the bus is taking too long to fill up. What I expect is a reply from the young men screaming for people to board. Something like “ladies and gentlemen kindly bear with us we only have four empty seats, we’ll be leaving in a short while” the actual reply reminds me that human thinking and common sense can never be common.

One of the guys walks to the drivers cabin and says “dere ipande” within a second, the music that is already too loud is pumped up tens of decibels above human limits. The reaction from the passengers is automatic and shocking to me, everyone forgets to complain about the slow pace of boarding and hold their palms tightly over the ears to protect the eardrums.

This is a perfect example of the colonial  divide and rule technique. By the time the ears adjust to the thunder, the few remaining seats are occupied. The character on the driving wheel has been doing his mad dance on the throttle since I boarded. The vehicle is Stationery but the accelerator is constantly engaged in quick succession leaving the entire vehicle vibrating along in a seriously uncomfortable way.

I forget to mention that all this time the bus is positioned in the middle of a very crowded street. Getting the vehicle out takes genius, courage and a lot of bullying. Well eventually we sneak out into the main road which as usual with Nairobi traffic is at a standstill.

The crew decide to “talk” to a traffic police officer who allows them to use a non designated route, a short cut out of the town that is reserved for vehicles plying other routes. Well we’re cruising on the wrong side of a street, screeching to a halt several times to avoid running into oncoming traffic with the horn blaring warnings and the crew shouting curses while hanging precariously on the sides.

By the time we are rejoining the highway, I have tasted blood in my saliva, I have held my heart in my hands at least three times and my pressure can be viewed from my veins and the sweat beads on my nose, brow and neck. The certainly crazy man on the wheel plunges into stalled traffic at break neck speeds. I shut my eyes and ask the Lord for forgiveness and wait to meet Joshua and Caleb.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, I open my eyes expecting a hand shake from the apostle Peter only to discover that we are cruising along Kariokor market on the new highway built by the Kenyan government. The lady seated next to me inquires whether I’m feeling sick and looks very sympathetic of my experience. She tries her best to start conversations to distract my attention from the road.

By now I have counted at least ten near misses with other vehicles and more than a dozen traffic rules violations. My neighbor tells me that the owners of the public transport buses work on cohort with the traffic officers and they are seemingly above the laws of road use. The police only disturb private road users.
I’m visibly shaking by the time I alight at Githurai. The buses do not stop, passengers alight as they move along. I had to get instant training on what to hold and what leg to use. I stretch out my left leg {to be continued in episode three}