Arriving in Africa

Chapter 1

Kenya, my first stop in Africa, except for a few days in Morocco the previous year. I arrived in Nairobi determined to experience Africa as a thrifty traveler as​ ​opposed to an affluent tourist.

My first challenge was getting from the airport to the Modern Coast bus station. I decided to take a local bus, however, the Google Maps pick-up location was incorrect. I asked many locals where to find the bus and each assured me that it was too dangerous and I should instead take a taxi.

People trying to scare me into doing something more expensive would be a reoccuring theme of my time in Africa.​ One man told me it would be the same price to take a taxi, just 1,000 shillings ($10). I stuck to my guns and refused to be peer-pressured into the taxi idea.

After walking around the airport for half an hour I finally found an unobtrusive parking lot where a kind man told me I could catch the bus. While we waited, a taxi driver pulled up and parked there, persistently trying to frighten me into getting into his car. I was only freed of him when a green bus playing upbeat African music finally arrived. It slowed down and we were expected to jump into the open door. With my enormous backpack this was a struggle.

The bus only cost $0.30. Satisfied that I didn’t get bullied into paying $9.70 more, I looked around and noticed that I was the only non-African on the bus. I received many curious glances from locals but also lots of approving smiles.

The ride made me car sick as we listened to a blaring news program mixing both Swahili and English. I looked out the window and felt like I was transported to the 1950s. Hordes of people were walking along the side of the street. The women were dressed in poodle skirts or dresses with loud patterns and the men were in cardigans and dress pants.

That was the moment it hit me that I had stepped into a different world. The first hour I had been head-strong and determined to save a couple of bucks but now I was finally realizing the cultural differences that being in Africa would entail.

The bus pulled over to a matatu pick-up location. A matatu is a privately owned van used for local transport. We were surrounded by Kenyans waiting for rides and the transport workers hustling to fill up their van. I was told that I needed to transfer here and I was pushed into a sea of unsmiling, hostile matatu workers.

It is common to squeeze 20 people into a van with a bag of maize under your feet and somebody else’s crying baby on your lap. There is a driver and his “hustler” that hangs half out the door, yelling the destination of the van to pedestrians as it drives along. He often hits the roof of the van, signaling for the driver to stop. He will get out of the van and approach groups of people begging or yelling at them to get into the van. If a potential customer shows interest but another matatu also stops, the two “hustlers” will grab the customer and try to physically push them into their van. The “hustler” wraps the paper money around his knuckles and jingles the coins in his hand in an effort to tell you he is ready to be paid.

​On that first day in Kenya, I had a pleasant matatu experience. Over all though, Kenya and Malawi had the most cut-throat and greedy of the matatu workers. Going somewhere always took a huge amount of energy. I would have to fight to get the price down to what the locals were paying. My caucasian skin automatically inflated the price.

One time I was told a fair price before getting into a matatu but once the van took off the hustler raised the price because of my large bag. Realizing that I was being hustled, I told him I would get out of the van and find a different ride. He stood in the doorway and refused to let me out. I had to raise my voice and scream to be let out before he gave in and charged me the price we had originally agreed upon. I’m not a confrontational person and afterwards I felt emotionally drained. ​One thing Africa taught me was to have tough skin.

Eventually I arrived at the Modern Coast bus station and booked an 8 hour bus to Mombasa. I later found out that for half the price and half the time you can take a train. The bus was actually quite comfortable with USB chargers and wifi. Modern Coast was one of the nicest bus experiences from my entire time in Africa. With the exception of only having one bathroom stop in 8 hours and a moment when I was considering hiding under a blanket and urinating into an empty water bottle, it was a smooth journey. Exhausted from my plane ride and then the bus, I finally arrived in Mombasa where my African experience would truly begin.