Matatu

I (Nate) spend a good deal of time on public transport. Although the city of Nairobi is relatively compact, traffic makes all the difference on travel times. On Sundays, when few people and vehicles clog the roads, Jill and I can leave for church, and arrive at our destination 25 minutes later. On weekdays, that commute balloons to one hour and fifteen minutes (at least!). The same scenario applies to my commute to Eastleigh. For the most part, my round trip travel time consumes between a little over two to three hours of my day. Because of this, many of my stories involve matatus.

Usually, lurid gangster rap blasts through the speakers at a deafening volume. Every once in a while, however, the driver and tout choose to play worship music (still at a ridiculously loud volume). I treasure these rides, because often, the passengers will hum or sing along with the music, testifying to the statistics that show that 80% of the people in this country confess Jesus as Lord. Just yesterday, for example, I hopped on bus number six headed for Eastleigh, and a Swahili worship tune set the mood as we careened down the road at breakneck pace. The woman beside me held her son who clearly had a swollen cheek and whose eyes spoke about the pain that he felt. The boy's mom joyfully sang along to the tune, no doubt glorifying God during the difficulty that she and her son faced. Not only do I sense the Lord's presence on these journeys, but these experiences also humanize the commute. I often fail to recognize my fellow passengers as I trek through the city. Just as in any major city, I focus on my goal, and blow past the thronging crowds just as if they were trees in a forest. These moments remind me to look folks in the eye, and see friends, neighbors, mothers and fathers instead of just obstacles on my way to work. I thank the Lord for these special times of worship on the fly.