By [Natalie]
There’s something magical about matatus. Not just the graffiti-covered exterior that screams “Thug Life” with Sauti Sol booming from speakers bigger than the engine. No. It’s the confidence they inspire in every passenger — the kind that makes you think, “I could totally drive this thing.”
Spoiler alert: You can’t.
Let me explain.
It starts innocently. You’re in a jam, the driver is navigating potholes like he has Google Maps hardwired into his brain, and the makanga
is dangling out the side like a human side mirror. You’re thinking, If these two can handle this chaos, so can I. After all, how hard can it be? Clutch, gear, hoot, vibe. Right?
Wrong.
One fine Monday, after watching too many TikToks titled “Day in the Life of a Matatu Driver,” I decided to give it a try — legally, of course. My cousin owns a matatu. He’s called Otis. He’s seen things. I asked him to let me “just feel the steering,” and he said yes, with a smile that now, in hindsight, looked like he was setting me up.
So there I was, behind the wheel of a 14-seater Nissan, feeling like the boss. Until I had to do a three-point turn. In Nairobi traffic. With five boda bodas, two handcart guys, and a cow (don’t ask) watching me struggle like I was disarming a bomb.
And the hooting? Kenyan drivers don’t just hoot — they express emotions with their horns. Hoot-hoot means “move kidogo.” Beeeeep means “I hate you and your ancestors.” I was getting all of it.
Otis laughed so hard he cried. The makanga even offered me gum “to help with the stress.” We hadn’t even left the estate.
What I Learned:
Driving a matatu is not just about turning a wheel. It’s about street IQ, reflexes like a cat, and the courage to squeeze into spaces physics says are too small. It’s about patience — and also having zero patience. It’s controlled chaos, with music.
So next time you’re sitting in a matatu thinking you could do it better, remember: confidence is free, but driving a matatu will humble you faster than Nairobi rent.
Moral of the Story: Respect the matatu crew. They’re not just drivers — they’re survival experts with playlists
