Life is a (terribly potholed) highway!

In late October, mzee traveled to the states for a conference, and to visit colleagues at my med school. Seeing that I had relied on him for a ride to the lab every morning, this presented a problem. However, I got approval from the powers that be to drive the lab / government vehicles, so problem solved. Well, not exactly.

Though it pains me to admit it, a few weeks ago, I was a 28 year old, warm-blooded American man who didn’t know how to drive stick. Correction: I drove stick once in my aunt’s Mazda Miata (the little two-seater about twice the size of a Matchbox car) when I was 16. The ensuing 12 years have been in an automatic. My five-foot tall wife, on the other hand, could drive stick. Shame on me, I know.

No one asked me directly if I knew how to drive a manual, but I definitely didn’t broadcast that I didn’t know, lest we lose all opportunity to ever drive in this country. No big deal, I could learn, but Kenya is not the empty Wal-Mart parking lot that is recommend for starting drivers. First, they drive on the left side of the road (thanks, Brits!). Second, the drivers’ side is on the right. Third, there are literally no traffic laws. Fourth, there are always people / cows / goats / handcarts all over the place.

This being 2010, I of course Googled “learning to drive stick” and read a few sites with hot tips and tricks. All recommended going to a massive, vacant parking lot. Strike one. Whatever, I don’t need my hand held. After reading about the basics, E and I went out for a test drive (once mzee was out well out of the country and not able to witness the horror). Bear in mind E can drive stick, but because she’s not employed by the lab / she’s a woman in Kenya (mostly the latter), I am obviously the more qualified to drive, even without any experience. While I will admit to being of the sexist men-are-better-drivers camp, it was definitely not true in this case. Don’t tell any of the Kenyans, but she coached me a little bit.

The vehicle is an aqua ~2000 Nissan pickup, with several hundred thousand miles on it. These are not American miles, either. Some of the miles are from the commute from Diani to Msambweni, but many were tacked on to and from “the field” (read: horrendous, potholed dirt roads). The life of vehicles is much shorter here, and this is in spite of cheap labor for repairs.

In the driver’s seat, ready to follow all of the steps that I read about. Neutral, clutch, brake, ignition. Parking break off. Oh wait, this truck doesn’t have a parking break. Reverse, gas, off the clutch. A little stuttering, not too bad. 1st, pull to end of drive, turning right onto main road. E: “You might want to be on the left side of the road”, as a truck comes barreling towards us. Good point. Next thought: Shift well before redline. I look down at my tachometer, which reads “0”. My speedometer also reads “0”. The gauges are apparently decorative. I shift up a few times and we get moving at a good clip down the road. I obviously don’t want to stop or slow, so we just drive and drive.

After a few trips in each direction down the beach road, we head to the Nakumatt to pick up some groceries. Though the Kenyan equivalent of Wal-Mart, the parking lot is more like that of a convenience store, but less roomy. I barrel into the parking lot at an ungodly speed, with the fear of stalling obviously greatly impacting my frontal lobe function. I finally hurl myself into a parking spot, thankfully without hitting anyone. With great relief, I release the clutch, and the truck violently shutters and stalls. Ahh, second gear. Whatever, I wanted to stop here anyways. The rest of day one was pretty benign, with just a few stalls here and there.

With mzee gone, I also had to drive myself to work, which is about 30 km away, and one has to drive through Ukunda, interesting, to say the least. One has to keep a very close eye on all of the bikes, motorcycles, cars, trucks, handcarts, pedestrians, goats, cows, chickens, cats, and dogs, while simultaneously watching for the cavernous potholes, which could hide office desk, and avoiding wildly swerving matatus. Fortunately, the clutching and the shifting and all that jazz had started to become more natural at this point, so it wasn’t too bad, but it was still a bit of an adrenaline rush.

Light traffic:


The remainder of the drive down to Msambweni was less exciting, but even on a major freeway (two lanes with potholes, in Kenya), there are still challenges. Every few minutes, the matatu that’s driving in front will slam of the brakes and make a half-hearted effort to pull off the road to pick up a fare. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Fortunately, because we’re driving a government vehicle, we don’t have to worry too much about being pulled over by the police and subsequently extorted.

Now, I’m used to driving here and I don’t have a “fight or flight” response when sitting in the drivers’ seat. While I was apprehensive at first, it is really nice to be driving again, even if only occasionally when mzee is out of town, and not having to rely solely on matatus to get around Diani. Today I drove several lab people, including mzee, down to the lab without incident, so I think I’ve passed the test. E and I are planning to rent a car and drive between Kisumu and Nairobi in a few weeks to see a few of the lesser-known parks in the Rift Valley. There we may contend with a few zebra or the odd elephant, but I’ll take that over Ukunda any day.