Shock of a matatu driver warning tout against overloading

BY FERDINAND MWONGELA

While in a matatu the other day, a tout had the nerve to wedge in one extra passenger. And the tout lacked space for himself thus squeezed himself between passengers with half his bum dangling in the aisle. While at it, he began dangerously craning his neck out of the window calling out for more passengers. And in the process, inconveniencing a passenger on the window seat next to him. Surprisingly, the driver was not amused. He went ballistic at the tout.

If you think the driver was yelling out of his concern for the tout’s discomfort, think again. I suspect, the driver was worried about what he would do in the event that a traffic cop flagged down the matatu. All the same, this shocked me.

It’s interesting how things seem to be changing. For some, this might not even make a lot of sense but you have to compare the public transport industry before Michuki rules era to today. Those of you who rode Stagecoach we get your point, relax!

Public transport

A good chunk of the population, World Bank statistics say 75 per cent, is below the age of 30. Which essentially means, majority of Kenyans’ memory about public transport is of the 80s and 90s or thereabout. Our only experience on public transport beyond that time is either a nostalgic story told by our parents or that which we read in a history book.

Anyway, the public transport sector in the 1990s and early 2000s when this writer and his ilk were in school was a nightmare. Today matatu seats are designed in such way that they can only accommodate three passengers. Squeeze in a fourth one and the three will protest, fearing suffocation. Only a few years ago, that same space could comfortably accommodate six passengers. How? I don’t know. Either the average Kenyan has grown fatter or those who design matatus nowadays makes them smaller. This matatu thing reminds me school days. The best position was to hang out of the door with a tenuous grip on the doorframe, with one hand and foot wedged in somewhere in there. To yours truly that was an experience and a half. The reasoning was quite simple; the humanity crammed inside could produce enough sweat to run a salt factory.

Smelly armpits

Never mind your head was buried in another passenger’s smelly armpit or groin area. And yes there were traffic cops, lots of them. It was a fun-filled journey considering one of your feet was always hanging out, enjoying the fresh air as the matatu zoomed downhill in Nyambene. And while at it, the driver jostled for space on the road with miraa (khat) vans.

So, today, when you get in a matatu and it’s the driver cautioning the tout against excess passengers, you can’t help remembering the old matatu huwa haijai mantra. How things have changed!