Experiencing a matatu ride

Matatu ride
We rode in matatus today from the village to Kisumu (on Lake Victoria). Left the village earlier than planned, but some very good happenings (including closing a commitment on our first microfinance investment), but I will defer those details to other posts. The team asked me to help you understand a matatu ride. The descriptions below are mostly true, though understated a little, and I left out the hardest to believe parts.
You can take a shortcut by thinking of a velveteen minivan (which only makes sense if you know the story of the velveteen rabbit), but that doesn't really capture it. Start with a familiar minivan. Take out all the seats, carpet, headliner. Put in 16 metal lawn chairs (4 in the front, then 4 rows of 3). Weld a couple down, put one bolt in the corner of a few, and let the rest rattle around. No seatbelts, of course. Get some big guys to jump on the roof awhile to give it a nice textured surface inside and out. Find a couple of kids to throw rocks at the windows to generate a nice spiderweb look all around. Extra points for having a spare tire (not attached to a wheel) balanced on the roof or sitting on a seat. You now have a starting point for your vehicle.
Pile in 6 Americans, one Kenyan missionary, and two drivers (you need an extra one to open doors, since the latches are all broken; and to negotiate with police), plus 6 large suitcases, 6 carryon suitcases, a medical kit, 2 guitars, and various backpacks etc. Ready to go?
Not quite, because the driver has to have conversations with several old friends, or maybe people he just met. You have to convince him that you are not willing to take another passenger on your lap, even if it is "not far" (one of many impossible to quantify Kenyan expressions). Finally, you start.
But, 100 yards down the street, you see the rest of the Kenyan mission team. Of course you have to stop and visit, which is good because one of them has to catch a bus in the town you are going to, and the only possible way is to join you. Squeeze in, and off you go.
About a half mile down the road, you realize an oncoming car has another Kenyan acquaintance of yours. Everyone waves and says "good bye" hopefully (you are already about 3 hours late getting started), but he stops and you stop and everyone visits awhile. Then you go.
And boy do you go. The road is worse than Wagner Lane - hard, potholed, muddy; but this van can really move. No radio - the rattles of the van (shocks fell off years ago), punctuated by blasts of the horn (it still works) to warn away pedestrians, bikes, goats, and  cars coming the wrong way, provide ample, though loud, accompaniment. The van can also stop, though it protests, for especially treacherous potholes and for speedbumps (why you need them on a potholed, muddy, dirt road is a topic for another, more learned, writer).
For added fun, let it start raining so you can discover that the roof leaks and the windows don't close all the way. Makes you glad you argued the driver off his plan to tie the luggage on top. Our own special treat was a lightning strike less than 30 yards from us on the roadside - flash/bang like I've never seen. We had a great view out the side windows; the view to the front is completely blocked by luggage.
Go about halfway, then stop in another town to find another matatu, since the first one only has insurance and registration for the first half of the journey. Repeat the whole experience as often as desired.
The certainly reminded us that there are things we do not control, and that most of the universe is in God's hands, not ours. We made it safely, in less than half the time the bus took, and found a hotel with hot and cold running water, electric lights, occasional Internet, and beds. God is good.
All in all, it's a real fun day once you get started.
Gerald

P.S. extra points for your mutatu ride if the door falls off the side as you get out, and the young Kenyan woman (going to the bus) casually catches it and pushes it back on.