Police shakedown and a series of unfortunate events

Seamless...would not be the way I describe Kenya. Undiscovered intrinsic potential yes. From observation Kenyans work hard performing the most routine of tasks. This includes basic transportation. Like attempting to catch a ride by running alongside a matatu (Nairobi's version of a shuttle bus each characteristically displaying their unique flair)as it navigates traffic to jump in and fill a slight gap in an already tightly packed vehicle. Machines (mostly cars and Matatus) are pushed to their limit as drivers weave through traffic to minimize any gap between them and the nearest vehicle in their horizon.



This coupled with breaking, horn blaring and light flashing nurtures chaos. The only way to describe the Kenyan driving style. Even overtaking a car is a foreign method to me as it is not uncommon to share the opposing lane with an oncoming car as the oncoming driver politely veers onto the shoulder. A trip by car is largely variable depending on traffic, accidents, the number of donkeys and dogs being run over and of course the aggressiveness of your driver. In our case, rating our driver on Aggressiveness, Risk, Excitement and Timeliness it would go as follows (10 being the most):
* Aggressiveness- 9
* Risk - Definitely a 10
* Excitement (If you call, nervously reaching for the a handle and constantly pressing your right leg forward as to break for the driver, Excitement) - a solid 8
* Timeliness - 6
The risk versus reward is definitely skewed toward the risk and is not worthy of an investment for a few shards of saved time.

Having a driver presents an additional obstacles. Every morning along our morning commute there is a post where men and women of the law in fluorescent yellow coats, which glow against the gray pillows of sky, attempt to protect Kenyan society from injustice. Their concern not speeding or reckless driving but the injustice of an empty pocket. They wait for hired vehicles (taxis and matatus) and summon them with an abrupt wave to squeeze a small stipend out of almost every hired vehicle that passes, except for us. At least for the first week and a half. We inquiry about our immunity and we receive a broad and ambiguous answer.

But this Monday would not be like the typical Monday. Our regular driver Stephen, who I call Stevie and was initially known as Peter (another story for another day), was substituted for another face. Our route the same but our immunity was abruptly broken by the mere proclaimation of one of the neon clad officers.

Immediately I could tell our driver was nervous and my colleague inquiries from the back "what is this all about". No reply from the driver. The conversation in Swahili seems tense. The law enforcer then bends down into the drivers window (The Kenyan steering wheel is on the opposite side of the American steering wheel) he clumsily yet authoritatively yanks the keys out of the ignition and in very broken English he validates "You drive have no license" peering in at me to see my reaction.

My response...."that is fine I will get out and walk...we are almost there". The shock etched in his deep ebony face was priceless. It was a look of pure disbelief. I grabbed for my laptop and departed the car without hesitation my colleague is almost immediately in my wake. No extortionist was going to have his day with this mzungu.

A country full of seams struggling to hold their stitch against the immense pressure of society. Which will, as I soon come to find out, lead to many other unfortunate events......