Traffic

The last month has been rather idyllic. Schools were closed for the summer holidays, which means it took me less than 20 minutes to drive the 5km into work, as opposed to the usual hour plus. Unfortunately, the schools have now re-opened, so we're back to the status quo.

It's difficult to capture in words the sheer lunacy and anarchy of Nairobi traffic in rush-hour. You generally drive with your left hand simultaneously covering the gearstick and steering wheel, leaving your right hand to focus on the more important task of honking. If someone stops at a red light, you honk. If someone brakes to avoid running over a pedestrian, you honk. If you're going round a blind corner, and you think there might be someone coming the other way, you accelerate.

Nairobians are some of the most hospitable, welcoming and friendly people you will ever meet. Nairobi drivers, on the other hand, are among the most discourteous, aggressive and just plain stupid. They will cut you up, block you off, tailgate, undertake, blind you with full-beam headlights, veer randomly across lanes, drive straight towards you on the wrong side of the road, and occasionally, under extremely rare circumstances, they might consider indicating.

The most annoying trait is the refusal to queue. Not wishing to draw too heavily on cultural stereotypes, but I do consider myself to have rather developed queueing faculties. The Nairobian, on the other hand, will see a queue, ignore it completely, and then try to cut in at the last moment, normally holding up everyone else in their lane, creating further chaos.

Last night was particularly special. As I turned the corner from my office, I hit the normal rush-hour traffic. The road has four lanes, supposedly 2 each way. Except, obviously, there were 3 lanes coming towards us and 1 going forwards. Not a single lane was moving. Looking ahead, I could see a matatu (minibus taxi - the worst of the worst) had seen the queue, and sensibly concluded that 3 lanes was insufficient for his purposes, and so tried to overtake in our one remaining lane. Of course, this being Nairobi, nobody was remotely prepared to let him back in line.

This is where it gets good. The car 2 in front of mine, blocked by the oncoming matatu, had AT THAT EXACT MOMENT, run out of fuel, and was stuck. By this time, cars had piled up behind us and there was no chance of anyone reversing. The guy immediately in front of me reckons he's had enough, and decides to turn round, trying to execute a 3-point turn in 4 lanes of solid traffic. He makes it halfway before getting completely stuck, able neither to move forward nor reverse. By this time, the other car has been pushed to the side of the road, and the way ahead is relatively clear. But I can't move because the genius in front of me is still performing his now 96-and-counting-point turn, with everyone else inching ever closer to make it as difficult as possible. This farce plays out for roughly 25 minutes, with everyone becoming more and more frustrated, and the chorus of honking reaching a crescendo of Arcade Fiery proportions. 

The worst part of this, though, the absolute worst part, is that's it's all kind of fun. It becomes a game, trying to stick your nose in front of someone who quite clearly has right of way, standing your ground to prevent the matatu from cutting the queue, the uncertainty over whether that bus is going to pull in front of you at the last second (oh he definitely is, but how late will he leave it?). Continuing my journey home last night, I ran 3 red lights, not because I was late, or because I'm particularly aggressive, but because that's just what you do (to be far, 2 of the lights weren't 'serious'; the other one kind of was, but I figured if the bus next to me could make it, I probably could too).

That said, the combined total of 2 and a half hours I spent stuck in traffic yesterday was enough incentive to ditch the car today and walk in for a change. It took me less than an hour, I didn't arrive frustrated and tense, and I didn't even have to worry about parking.