Coolest matatu ride ever

So last week, M forgot the adapter for his computer plug when he went to the hospital for the day. Thinking he would need it, I decided that I would go on an adventure to take it to him. Each morning he drives the 20-25 minutes to the hospital with Mungai but I knew there had to be a way to take a matatu there so I set off.

Three matatus and 100 minutes later, I was deposited at the hospital where I found out that M was borrowing an adapter and didn't actually need it. Perfect. Well, I guess I'll have some lunch before heading back. I can't be too upset about the wasted round-trip because it set me up for the coolest matatu ride ever.

On my trip back, I'd been riding for about 5 minutes when we stopped to pick up a young women and her small child that I'd guess was about 13 months old. The woman was veiled and dressed in several bright kangas (the colorful wraps) and had her little boy in a sling made of another kanga. Her hands were full of fruits and vegetables since we'd picked her up at a roadside market. As she boarded the matatu, she hunched forward to climb in and the child started to slip out. I was seated at the window but the man closest to her appeared to be unfazed by her fratic clutching as the little boy started to fall. I threw my arms open and met her eye and she swung the little boy to me. I untangled him from the now untied kanga and she moved past my row to sit down.

She settled her things but then made no move to come back for the child so I settled him onto my lap with his little head coming up to my shoulder. He was such a warm, soft little presence on my lap but I figured this wouldn't last long. After a few seconds, his little head slowly looked upward to me and blinked and I braced myself for his inevitable terrified cries when he realized that I obviously wasn't his mother. He gave me a good long stare but then simply started looking around. He was amazingly calm and just sat contently in my lap. As we whipped around curves, I held his head to my shoulder and he nuzzled in grabbing my shirt monkey-style.

I had heard that in Kenya, children are raised much more communally with extended family, church/mosque members, and close friends constantly passing the babies around. The babies are incredibly secure in their maternal bonds because the mother is always present to nurse but other people spend a lot of time holding them and loving them. Even knowing this, it was amazing to see it in action because he's never, ever seen me before. And frankly, given his age and the remoteness of where we dropped them, I may be one of the few mzungu he's ever seen.

I watched his mother out of the corner on my eye and she didn't appear to think this was strange at all. She could clearly see me but also wasn't watching me intently like I might hurt him. She just relaxed in the back of the matatu and let him be with me. I'm not sure if he could see her or not but if he could, her posture was signaling that this situation was completely natural.

After about 10 minutes she moved past me to disembark and after she climbed down, I scooted over and handed him to her. She smiled and waved at me as we drove away. It was all so simple. Not a single word was exchanged but the whole experience was so lovely. It strikes me that children, babies especially, are probably as close to a universal equalizer amoung women as you can find. This child's mother and I have almost nothing in common but she shared him with me and I helped her keep him safe for a split second. It was such a great moment and I'm so thankful that I took that unnecessary matatu ride because it turned out to be the best one yet.