Lost in Nairobi

Yesterday I took a matatu from school to Kikima. It's a trip I've made a million times with other people, but yesterday was my maiden solo voyage. I met with Henry in town, and it was all okay.

I took the day off teaching today, and travelled to Nairobi. Very early this morning I took a matatu from Kikima to Machakos, and it was smooth sailing. I got the front seat, and when there is a white person in the front, the police seem to decide not to pull up over and ask for a bribe. The plan was to meet Elijah in Machakos, because it's really hard to figure out transfers. Nothing is marked, and all the matatu conductors sprint over, sometimes grabbing at your sleeve, trying to get you to choose their matatu despite the fact that it's not headed to your repeatedly stated destination. In Kikima though, Henry knew somebody on the bus who was also going to Nairobi, and she said she'd help me, so I told Elijah not to worry about it. We're going to call this woman, W1.

As we approach the city centre, I'm just about to congratulate myself for traveling alone in a foreign country, when W1 asks the conductor a question. He answers shiftily, and W1 says, "they cheated us!" The mat was stuck in traffic, so we jump off. W1 quickly explains that they aren't headed to the specific station at which I need to meet Kay, even though they said they were when we got on. She grabs the arm of a random woman passing by, explains the situation, and asks her to walk me to my station. Then the traffic starts to move, so she jumps back on the matatu while calling out, "she doesn't speak Swahili!"

The new woman, W2, looks at me for a moment and then beckons for me to follow. This is sort of when I realized maybe I wasn't in the best of situations. I decide to enact my most effective emergency contingency plan, called Trust Only Women. You may call this plan sexist, but I call it provident and safe. I know I'm generalising, but I find that women can be counted on to help other women, you know? W2 told me she was heading in that direction, but not all the way. At a junction, she tried to pass me off to a man that was headed there, but I didn't leave her. Later W2 passed me off to W3, who spoke even less English. Around this time, I started to get the feeling that we were no longer in the better part of town. And later still, we were it a part of town that made the bad part of town look celestial. Oh man.

W3 and I finally arrived at the station where I was apparently supposed to meet Kay. But then W3 had to catch her own bus. Kay had told me that often in Nairobi, people steal cell phones from right out of your hand while you talk, which is why I hadn't used it so far. But I got Kay on the phone and gave it to W3 to explain our location. Turns out I'm at the totally wrong spot, but Kay knew where I was and would come find me. W3 leaves, but W4-7 are sitting on some pavement. They over heard the Swahili exchange, I guess, so they kindly invited me to sit on the pavement while I waited. They actually even got out a piece of cardboard so my princess of a bum didn't gave to sit on the pavement. Nice, but kind of funny, gesture.

Eventually I realise that if so many people are starting at me, nobody is going to steal my phone. So I call Kay often, and I feel safe. Eventually she finds me, and all is well!

I'm proud that I didn't even freak out a little bit. I gave myself a few "don't worry yet, Lisey" talks, and really, I didn't feel that the situation ever reached levels of exigency. Kay says the drivers often lie about their destination, just to get another fare. So mean, right? But whenever she tells somebody where she eventually found me, their eyes pop. Kay says she has only been to that side of town once before. Since I'm okay, it's a hilarious story now. While I was still complacent and on the matatu, we drove past one of those air conditioned big, clean tour buses. There was an African driver, then about 12 people who looked about my age in the back. They had some luggage piled up, too. I felt a slight twinge of jealously at all the comraderie, but then I was like, "uh, I'm taking a matatu, and at best those guys get to look out a window. This is the real deal." However, by the end of the escapade, I was back to being jealous. But now that I'm found and safe, I'm back to being snooty.

Spurred my newfound Evil Kinevil life out look, I kept living on the edge all day. Kay and I ate lunch out, and I got a hamburger. And I didn't take off the pickles and lettuce. And later I ate an apple with out peeling it. RAW FRUITS AND VEGETABLES, PEOPLE. (I know, I know, it's really common for otherwise healthy travellers to get sick at the end of their trips once they ease up on being so careful about what they eat. And Eric, I'll check my inbox for a reprimanding email from you. But that burger was GOOD and I am still fine.) Bring it on, Kenya.