Service You Can Trust

Downtown Nairobi (online image)

At 7:30 my alarm went off, a grating, blaring wail to the tune of something islandy and thoroughly annoying. With a mental note to chuck the phone or change the ringer later, I squinted to get a better look at my wristwatch. It was 12:30 at home and just about the time to be climbing in rather than out of bed. I reached to press snooze or reset the wake up, thought better of hearing the wail again, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. After a five second pep talk in which I promised myself two episodes of Scandal (a recent addiction) and a stowed away Snickers bar later, I coaxed myself out of the bed, through the morning routine and out the door.

Barclays (online image)

First stop, John took me to Barclays bank to extract the funny-colored currency he would accept as payment (no fees at Barclays in any country with Bank of America accounts!). I hopped out and jogged up to the booth. The guard and a young woman stood chatting. They watched me walk in, attempt to insert my card to no avail, and return. No money they said, almost in unison. No money? How does a bank have no money? I got back in the car and John confirmed, Ah yes. No money. We will try another. The second bank had cash alright. It also had two very heavily armed guards and a security booth at the entrance to the car park which gave out a small chit for ticketed payment upon return. The guards smiled as I approached, semi-automatic (or maybe automatic?) rifles resting on their laps, one hand on the handle. Between the bars, gates, and armed guards, it was no wonder the city had acquired the moniker "Nairobbery." :)

Matatu (online image)

Painting matatu like Lil Wayne (online image)

I asked John how often banks were robbed. That's what the guards are for to protect from, he replied matter-of-factly. We continued on to the office, the address told to me as "off such and such road," (no street number or physical address) a few meters down from the police station but before the main junction. Fortunately, John drove it nearly every day and knew exactly where to go. I tried not to wince as the car wove narrowly in and out of the stream of traffic, within inches of passing vehicles and people crossing at random. Matatus (minibuses) squeezed by with colorful painted phrases like “God is Good,” “Kanye West,” and my personal favorite “Service You Can Trust” from the minibus that slammed on brakes and horn as it barely missed knocking a passel of students to kingdom come. I summoned all my memories of flying down the highway in grand taxis in Morocco, weaving in and out of pedestrians in Vietnam, and zipping through densely-packed traffic on motos in Indonesia; nothing to it, right? When we arrived without losing a single side mirror or striking a pedestrian, I was impressed to say the least! :D