Matatu

You’re standing on the side of the road. Suddenly a battered old minibus with ‘Gary Moore’ written in massive letters on the front and silvery blue flames down the sides screeches to a halt. A guy, who has been hanging out with the sliding door open, jumps off and shouts at you to jump in as quickly as you can and before you’ve had a chance to sit down the minibus takes off at breathtaking speed. As you squeeze in you can feel the springs through the old canvas seat and deafening reggae music is blaring out of the speakers while the driver is weaving dangerously in and out of the traffic. ‘Nina Shuukah!’ you shout over the music and before the bus has come to a complete stop you are pushed out, glad to be alive to see another day.

Matatu

Matatu

Matatus, as these minibuses are called, are pretty much the only way to get around Nairobi if you don’t have your own transport and can’t afford to fork out for a taxi. Despite the obvious dangers, I’m finding that I actually really enjoy these rides. Must be the little boy in me.

Felix

Felix in the back

 

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