in the matatu

Here we are crammed into the back of a matatu, on route to church. These public transport vans are supposed to seat 14 passengers, but have been known to squeeze in over 20. Last week I was very almost sitting on the lap of a rather elderly gentleman - there is certainly more physical contact with your fellow passengers than any public transport back home.



The matatu fare is usually no more than the equivalent of 60-70 cents, but can be as little as 15 cents. For that low, low price you get a unique travel experience that, on any given day, can vary from booming ghetto beats to Lionel Ritchie, flashing fairy lights to multicoloured vinyl roofing to random stickers, the scent of hot sweaty passengers to the almost overpowering exhaust fumes from a vehicle in front.

And if you're really lucky, you'll get to experience that life-flashing-before-your-eyes kind of fear that accompanies speeding down a hill, on the wrong side of the road, into oncoming traffic, or the equally frightening 'oh-look-at-that-the-roads-are-jammed-let's-use-the-side-walk-as-a-super-highway' ordeal.

On another note, you wouldn't believe how much our prayer lives have improved.