Two Muzungus (White People) in a Matatu (Taxi)

This is kind of a long one. Our friend, Virginia invited us to travel to Nanyuki, see a local wool-weaving cooperative, and then visit a trout farm. The ride there was pretty uneventful, but it was our longest matatu ride to date. A matatu is the Kenyan crossbreed of a bus and a taxi. The breed is not often pretty. Minivans are used to transport people along set routes. Matatus typically come in 2 sizes – 14 person matatus and 10 person matatus. Occasionally, you will see a 7 seater. The 7 seater is like a smart Aggie. I hear they exist, but I've never seen one.

So, it was interesting to see the different plants that the weavers used to dye the spun wool. The cooperative provides a way for single/widowed women to earn some money and have a steady occupation. Nevertheless, there is only so much wool a person can look at.

After Nanyuki, we explored a group of shops situated on the equator, which is kind of a tourist spot. In a flash, was as if I had become my mother, Ron Draeger or Gerarld Kurio. Everything instantly became negotiable. I remember being on a trip with Draeger one time and we were buying some groceries at a large grocery store for a camping trip. This is in the U.S., mind you. Draeger attempted to negotiate down the price of the groceries. “I’ll give you a dollar for that bread. C’mon, what do you care?”

My conversations with the various dealers echoed in a similar tone. “That bracelet costs 750 shillings ($10.00)? Really, how about 150 ($2.00)?.....Now 600 shillings, how about 150? 500? Here’s 150. Ok, deal.” Kinda spooky.

After shopping, we headed to the trout farm in yet another matatu. We were dropped off on the side of the road generally in the area of the farm. After following Virginia for 20 minutes as she traipsed through a cow pasture in high-heeled shoes, I began to doubt that we were in the right spot. The bells ringing from the necks of the cattle around us made me question our path. Nevertheless, a short time later, we ran into the road to farm. Virginia was right on the money. Turns out the farm actually has an amazing restaurant that goes with it.

The restaurant is built around an ancient, giant fig tree. Colubus monkeys hopped from branch to branch eating figs. We took a seat and had our best meal to date. Smoked trout, grilled trout and masala trout. Soooooooo good to have a meal without corn. The trout reminded me of our trips to Montana when I was a kid. Fish fresh out of a stream, covered with salt, pepper, lemon and onion, wrapped in foil and thrown in the coals of the campfire. Again, soooooooo good.

We finished up, and headed for home. I was supposed to run with the kids at 4:30, so we left the restaurant around 3, figuring we had plenty of time. We hiked back to the road, and were met, almost immediately, by a matatu. The three of us hopped in. Heather and Virginia in the back, and I took the position next to the sliding door. Matatus are typically manned by a 2 person team - the driver and the solicitor, who gets people to take the ride.

The solicitor slid into the seat behind me. The driver punched the gas. We lurched forward, with the sliding door wide open. We rode for about 50 meters, and the solicitor pushed the door shut. The door, however, did not comply, and ground to a halt about half-closed. The driver continued over the protests of the solicitor. I must say that I did not mind the breeze. Finally, the driver stopped to address the open door. Likely, the police would not have let us continue, or, more likely, would have extracted a large fine from the driver. The solicitor and a buddy jumped out and went to work on the door, which, in turn, immediately fell off the matatu. I was curious how we would continue. Heather laughed from a couple rows behind me.

After 10 to 15 minutes, with the driver, solicitor and their buddy working and conferrig, the door was somehow placed back onto the van. It looked shaky, to say the least. The solictor asked me to slide over a spot, and he took my seat. He then reached into the front and fetched a piece of homemade rope, which was looped through the door. I cracked up.

On trips of this sort, I have often had a moment when I realize that things are out of my hands, and others are in charge. Backpacking Europe, I had a strict regimen of countries to visit and cities to explore. Except, trains rarely showed up on time. After a couple weeks, my friends and I would drink wine, play cards, and hop whatever train actually did show. In Peru, our van blew out a tire on the first day travelling to the clinic. I think we piled 12 people, plus medical supplies into one small SUV. Obviously, I was not going to make it back in time to run with the kids.

We continued in this manner. I was certain that the matatu would not take more people on due to the door. At the next stop, three more got on, bringing our total number of people on board to a record of 22. After a few more stops, the solicitor worked on the door for a while more. It appeared his buddy was able to pry the bent rail to allow the door to slide shut. Everyone clapped and laughed. Confident, the driver stomped on the gas. 200 meters down the, the door fell off completely. Sparks flying on the road, and the solicitor hanging on to the door for dear life.

Again, the door was pried on to the rail, and it somehow managed to stay that way the remainder of the trip. We pulled in to the home at 6:15p.m., just missing my scheduled time of 4:30. Some pics for you. Again, click on them to enlarge.
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A typical 14 seater matatu.

A typical number of passenger (inclusive of muzungu).


Heather thoroughly enjoying the pleasant ride.

My riding companion.

I'm sure this complied with U.S. car manufacturing standards.
Just like home at the Texas Shop.
Those two buckets show how the water twirls different ways at the equator.
Spun wool.

Trout Tree Restaurant.

Sooooo good.