Tuk-tuks, Boda-bodas, and Piki-pikis (or, On The Road Again)

Two weeks from Thursday, I will be back in the United States. After five weeks in Africa, I think one of the strangest things about coming home will be having my own car all to myself again. I've missed it occasionally (mostly when I've craved solitude), but mostly, I've enjoyed trying new forms of transportation here. Here's my basic African transportation primer (for further, more official information, see Wikipedia -- I tried to include links to pictures, but couldn't do it):

The Matatu
My Kenyan friends and I took a few matatus (small buses) when I was in Nairobi. According to Kenyan regulations, all matatus should be painted white and comply with the set passenger quotas. Some do; however, there's also a large fleet of matatus run by young men who use theirs as a form of self-expression. I rode in one which was painted bright purple on the outside, plastered with the likes of Foxy Brown and Jay-Z on the inside, pounding with rap music (the sound system must have been monstrous), swerving in and out of traffic as it hawked more customers, and filled with the lovely fragrance of diesel exhaust (cough). Good times.

The Tuk-tuk
A tuk-tuk is what you would get if you crossed a scooter and an old VW Bug. Last Thursday, after shopping in the open-air market in Machakos, my roommates and I paid 20 shillings each to squeeze into a tuk-tuk on our way back to the college. We had six people in ours, which seemed to be a strain on both the engine and the frame, but it made the driver quite happy to have acquired so many passengers.

The Boda-boda
Yesterday Sarah and I persuaded Viola to join us for another trip into Machakos, this time on the backs of boda-bodas (bicycle taxis). For twenty shillings each, we perched sidesaddle on padded platforms behind our lean, tooth-challenged "drivers." Turned out to be easier than it looked, even in a skirt (we decided that if everyone else can do it in a skirt, so could we). I even got out my camera and took a short, very bumpy video.

Some of the missionaries love the boda-bodas because you can talk with the drivers as you ride; others dislike them for the same reason. Last week, a boda-boda guy proposed to one of our British girls after bringing her back from town, telling her, "I'd really like an English wife." When she explained that in her country, people don't get married unless they are in love with each other, he countered, "But I do love you!" Mine was silent; he must already have a wife.

The Piki-Piki
After shopping and enjoying samosas in Machakos, the girls persuaded me to add another form of transportation to my list of new experiences: the piki-piki, or motorbike. We dug deep and paid fifty shillings each to again sit sidesaddle, only this time behind a helmeted driver who wore boots instead of flip-flops and revved his engine instead of ringing a bell. I climbed up first, grabbed the small handle at the back, and away we went...through an alley, not to be followed by either of my friends! Shortly, however, we came out on a road I recognized, and fell into line with the other two piki-pikis. My driver had simply taken a shortcut. Whew.