I took the keys rather gingerly, if truth be known. The driver had come over to my hotel and then announced he had to get back to the office and was about to shift over and hand me (so to speak) the driving wheel, when I almost yelped, “Please, you drive to the office, then I will take it from there.”
I had witnessed many journeys to and from the office, and indeed to other places around Nairobi, and there was one common theme: chaos. So you can perhaps appreciate my trepidation.
Once in the safety of the office compound (yes we have an office compound) I confidently opened the driver’s seat door and clambered in. There were at least two reassuring things that helped me focus on the challenges of avoiding collisions. Firstly, in Kenya, one drives on the left, which, while I’m very competent in driving on the Napoleon-side of the highway, meant one less thing to worry about. Secondly, the car was an automatic, and the need to concentrate on gear shifts also evaporated.
So I started her up and began (incredibly slowly) to drive towards the compound exit. As I did, I had to negotiate a rather tight corner and managed to get round it with the only very slight accident of knowing over a gardener’s broom. I was out – free – on the Nairobi thoroughfare. And since the office area is residential, on a Saturday the roads were almost empty. Great for my confidence and I when I hit the highway at the end of the road, I was (almost) ready to do battle.
The high was clogged with towering trucks, bristling buses, luxury cars with luxury drivers, the odd nippy motorcyclist and a herd of matatus. These matatus are the local minibuses. They are like the beetles of the road – scurrying here and there with utter disregard for you or other vehicles and certainly not interested in following road etiquette – let alone rules. But I survived and was soon on Raphta Road to take a quick look at my soon-to-be new apartment.
I was on the way back when I hit a snag: the road I was supposed to take was closed. Shit.....
And the reason being there are massive road works underway (with Chinese financing) to build a super-highway. Result: more chaos.
So I checked Maps on my iPhone and glided down the hill under the overpass (still being finished) and then as I was about to turn into a side road (off the A2 and onto Wambugu road, in case you’re wanting to follow this on Maps, like a crazy soap opera) I got “sandwiched” between a huge dumper truck and the verge.
Mayhem? That’s an understatement, the dumper truck had forced his way onto the main road and snarled up the entire route as a consequence. Horns were beeping, people were shouting and then finally a man got out (not sure from where) and started directing this one forward, that one back and even asking me to move forward – where he thought I was going to drive to, I have no idea – the ditch to my right was (sorry!) NOT a bloody option....
The truck broke free, the road started moving again and I was at last allowed to get in my beloved Wambugu Road. I felt localised a little. My HR Director described me as mwenyeji which apparently means “the complete local”. And my first on-road experience in Kenya at the helm, so to speak, was ended with no bumps and no battering.
Yes, it was quite fun actually...!!
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