Travel by Taxi

Taxis are the rich man's alternative to matatus and boda bodas. In Western Kenya I used taxis only when going to or from the airport with luggage.

In any developing country, taxis are unlikely to be in good shape. They are usually well past their best before date, and the condition of the roads is very hard on all vehicles. In addition, the parts used to repair damage are often hand made. Jeremiah's taxi was the one we used, but it was only marginally better than the others.

The trip to pick up George and Beth Scott provides one of the more memorable stories but few trips were not delayed by a flat tire or some other roadside problem.

Jeremiah's transmission gave out shortly after we left Kisumu. He had to get the car turned around so that we could travel in reverse. The road between Kakamega and Kisumu is winding, rutted and dangerous. The matatus and trucks move at unsafe speeds, and take all kinds of reckless chances. Traveling in reverse on any road would have been remarkable but on that road the idea was ludicrous.

George sat in the passenger seat beside Jeremiah. Beth and I sat in the back seat facing the direction in which we were going. When we passed a large truck, everyone in the truck began to laugh and point at our car passing traffic on the main highway while travelling backwards.

Beth and I giggled and looked at George for the first time. He was white faced and rigid ... and furious. I pointed out as gently as I could, that travelling with Jeremiah, even going backwards, was safer than many matatu rides.

We all breathed a little easier when we got turned around and a truck pulled us slowly home. It would have been quicker but we went through several ropes enroute, and at one point, a matatu cut between us and the truck, and we found ourselves face to face with a startled matatu driver. The expression on that driver's face was priceless when he discovered we were attached to the truck.

I didn't dare look at George's face.