Thoughts on Matatus

David is a funny guy with a lot of wisdom. He's worth featuring on my blog so here are a few of this thoughts on matatus (taxis).

Me: Have you been in many traffic accidents?
Driver: Not so many. No. I can not count them, but they were not so many.
Me: Have you been in any serious accidents?
Driver: Well, I have not killed anyone. No. I haven't killed anyone. Okay, well there was that boy. A student. I killed him.
Me: You hit and killed a boy?
Driver: Yes. Well, no. He didn't die when I hit him. Not immediately. He died later. They took him then he died.
Driver: He did not see two cars. He saw only the car in front of me. He tried to cross.
Driver: That was many years ago. I have killed no one in the last ten years. Not one.
Me: Have you had any traffic accidents recently?
Driver: I hit a bicycle last week. I got nothing from him. You see how my window is new? I had to buy a new window.
Me: Was he hurt?
Driver: He hit the road. I took him to the hospital for free and I got nothing from him. He was only hurt for two days. I had to buy a new window.

There is surprisingly little garbage here not because people are cleaner, but because people can't afford to purchase things which may come in a wrapper. If I dispose of an empty plastic beverage bottle someone always climbs into the trash heap to retrieve it because they need it to carry water. I am actually ashamed to put things in the trash heap simply because people will retrieve much of what I throw out. When our health center disposes of expired medicine we must burn it immediately or else people will take it from the heap to try and use or sell.The conductor procures two empty coke bottles from the empty cavity of the bus's door (certainly stored there for just such an occasion), flags down a boda boda (motorcycle taxi), and hitches a lift on it to the nearest gas station. We, the passengers, patiently wait for the conductor's return. There's some small talk- idle chit-chat. Upon returning, he pours the gas filled coke bottles into the fuel tank, then pops the front seat up to gain access to the engine (after running completely dry of gas the engine won't start until the fuel hose and carburetor are primed with gas). The conductor disconnects the fuel hose, places his mouth around it, sucks the hose to get the gasoline into it, and then - and this is my favorite part - spits the mouthful of gasoline that he invariably gets, into the top of the carburetor thus priming it. After priming the engine they get the bus rolling (which the driver prudently stopped on a grade), pop the clutch to start the engine (the starters on these vehicles have long since stopped functioning) and we are on our way. Just another trip to Mbale.



Negotiating is big here. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has fixed prices. The only thing that is constant is that the initial price a vendor gives me is the muzungu (white person) price. Even in the large stores of Mbale there isn't a price tag to be found. Before spending time overseas I remember being intimidated and bothered by flexible prices. We westerners do love to see a nice fixed price tag on everything. I think that there are now even non-negotiable car dealerships in the states- previously the last bastion of consumer bartering. I have come to appreciate the game of negotiating here and have found that it really is kinda fun. It demands a little research and some bluffing, but it really isn't a big deal. I am to the point now that in the event that a vendor's initial offering isn't the muzungu price and ten times higher than it should be, I am actually a little offended. It isn't done maliciously or to take advantage of some poor traveler - it is just how their system works. I suppose our system of cutting coupons out of newspapers or carrying membership cards would probably seem just as convoluted to people here. In addition to honing my negotiation skills, I have learned many other things in the short time I have been here. For example, in my second week here I learned that you should only leave your window open at night by a width equal to the largest animal you will tolerate entering your bedroom. I do (our shall I say, did) enjoy having my window open at night to let the fresh, cool evening breeze into my room. I awoke one night to what sounded like an animal scraping against the house outside of the window. I didn't think much of it at first, probably just a goat or something. After hearing it again, I pulled back the drapes and peered into the darkness with my headlamp. There didn't appear to be anything there. I flipped off the headlamp and tried to go back to sleep. After a few minutes I heard (and felt) what seemed to be something hitting the side of my bed. Thinking I was just paranoid (and somewhat comforted by the protection of my mosquito net) I tried to ignore it. After a few minutes I heard things being knocked from a shelf, inside of my room. Now I was spooked. I peered around my bedroom with the light of my headlamp but could see nothing. Sleep was definitely out of the question at that point, so I patiently sat with my headlamp on shining into the darkness waiting for a glimpse of my visitor. After a few minutes I finally saw what was quite possibly the largest rat I have ever seen, scurrying about my things. I spent quite a while just sitting there in bed, huddled behind the mosquito net, headlamp on, just watching him (or possibly her) run amok. Did you know that rats, even ones the size of a small dog, are quite fast and maneuverable? I considered trying to go back to sleep, hoping maybe he (or she) would just go back through the window at the end of the night, but it occurred to me that it would probably have to climb up my bed to do so. It took a while to acknowledge to myself that this was a situation that needed to be dealt with. As calmly as the situation allowed I lifted the mosquito net, stepped out of bed, casually put on my sandals (alright, maybe not casually I think the left was on my right foot and vice versa) and left my bedroom, closing the beast in behind me. Luckily the Headmaster was still around at this time (and awake- I swear that man never sleeps) so I explained to him the situation regarding my unwanted visitor. We confidently (at least he seemed confident) went back into my bedroom, each removed a sandal, shut the door behind us and squared for battle. It took a few minutes of both of us jumping around, swatting in every direction, and a few sounds that you may expect to hear from a startled schoolgirl (which Headmaster later told me emanated entirely from me) but we (alright, he) finally managed to bash it to death with a sandal. I didn't sleep real well that night.

I had my first official 'Doctor David' moment the other day. While enjoying yet another village wedding from the best seat in the house (the color of my skin seems to not only consistently get me placed at the head table of weddings - three so far - it also gives me the honor of making a speech, despite language barriers and regardless of whether I have ever actually met the bride or groom before) there was suddenly a cry from the children and a commotion around one child. An adult quickly ran to investigate and found that a child had fallen into a large hole dug for a not-yet-placed utility pole, and now had a foot covered in blood. Immediately, everyone's gaze suddenly fixed on me. It was a Saturday evening so our health center had already closed for the day and our nurse and nursing assistant had both returned to their homes in neighboring villages. I was on my own on this one. I considered trying to explain to the crowd the nature of my education and that I don't actually have any medical training, but I couldn't quite figure out how to effectively mime 'business administration and computer science'. I had the keys to the health center in my pocket, so I figured what the heck. A man from the village scooped her up and, as I rolled up my sleeves, we headed for the health center. I hadn't really realized that I was nervous until it took me two minutes to get all my fingers into the correct locations of the latex gloves. After removing a few pieces of debris and cleaning the wound with an antiseptic solution I was relieved to see that it was just a laceration (although quite deep and dirty) at the base of her small toe. I cleaned it the best I could and applied some gauze smeared with antibiotic ointment and wrapped it in medical tape (at which point I kept getting the fingers of my gloves stuck to the tape, causing a loud snap every time I became unstuck- this entire procedure with no less than 30 people huddled around me in a circle watching me work.) It wasn't until after everyone had left and I was locking up the health center that I noticed my sweat soaked armpits. All this for a girl with a small cut on her foot - I don't think I would make a very good doctor. I will be informing the village that from now on all injuries must occur Monday through Friday between 9:00am and 5:00pm or on Saturdays from 9:00am to 2:00pm. I am sure they will understand. I hope everyone is well.