This matatu defines the terms unroadworthy, rickety, tough, rusty and
unwieldy to near perfection. When you board a Kapsoya matatu, you must
have considerable faith that you will reach your destination.
Your faith
must surpass the litres of petrol that the matatu has and better still,
it must be stronger than the matatu's mechanical condition. This is the
kind of matatu that can stall on the railway track as a train is fast
approaching. They produce blinding smoke from their exhaust pipes, the
kind of which a magician can disappear and re-appear with brand new
clothes. They elicit thrill, fear and consternation all at once. Yes, we
Kapsoya residents have been derided because of our old matatus, to an
extent an out-of-town visitor will think that the Kapsoya stage is a
garage. The estate has been slighted as "a graveyard of matatus". This
is the route where a matatu's last days as a useful public transport
machine are spent. This assumption is relative. Kapsoya matatus are as
tough as they come.
They can withstand the bumpy and adverse road network that leads to
the estate. A driver adjusts the rigid gears and steps on it in a such
manner you would think it is Vin Diesel in Fast and Furious. They are
old warriors that have survived broken windows, cracked windscreens,
failed wipers, non-functional headlights, non-existent brake-lights,
leaking roofs, dusty seats and coughing engines to still be driven and
operate everyday in a difficult route. My cousin from Nairobi once drove
me into a fit of laughter when he asked me the route number of Kapsoya
matatus. These matatus have no "hewa", so the tunes you hear are; the
shrill sound of clanging windows mixed with the stuttering roar of the
engine plus that continuous squeak that an unstable chair somewhere
produces and Dinka conversations of South Sudanese are part of what
makes the music. They have no screens and if they were they would either
be cracked or out of service. These matatus have no graffiti, the
furthest a matatu has gone in decòr is painting lines of different
colours or the classic flame graffiti.
Body work on the matatus is done once in a solar eclipse. This is a
route which demands less glamour and more grit so you put aside your
snooty attitude, this is not Coast Bus or Modern Coast which has
adequate leg room, reclining seats or a beaming hostess serving you with
a glass of warm juice. This is a matatu when it rains some seats are
reserved for the raindrops. When it is dusty, a bump can cause a
sandstorm in the matatu. They are not the sleekest machines in town
even some look like they are crying or miserable by the multiple
renovations and repairs they have gone through. If they were human
beings, they would have testified every Sunday of how God has seen them
through surgery.
The fare is sh 20 to town and sh 30 from town but an increase in
fares is accompanied by the following notice, "Due to an increase in the
prices of spare parts, the fare has increased by sh 10". Enjoy your
ride.
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