Things Dan likes about his Nairobi commute

Alright, having looked back on the last few posts, it's clearly time for something a little cheerier than slums, famine and fire. Otherwise our readership is going to decrease rapidly.

Helen's already posted about the Wild West experience that is her journey. Now it's my turn to talk about my (frankly, far more civilised though longer) commute from our apartment in South B to SEP's office at Gertrude's Children's Hospital, Muthaiga.

Not exactly a perfect representation, but it's the best I could manage. Suffice to say I go from South East to North Nairobi, via the CBD (central business district), 2 buses, and a whole lotta life.

Unsurprisingly, our Nairobi commutes are somewhat more interesting than good ol' Worst Crapital Connect from St.Albans to London. Or at least I think so at the moment. So, before it all becomes totally normal and ordinary, here's my top things I like about my commute...

1. Seeing South B wake up. Ok, so what I mean is I get up damned early, but there's something lovely about walking onto the South B streets at that time of the morning. It's cooler. Everyone's a bit sleepy and quiet (and can't be bothered to hastle the mzungu). Men stand around reading the newspapers that are laid out for sale on the street corners. The car washers and water-sellers are just getting started. The fruit n veg sellers start laying out their produce on mats on the ground - intricate pyramids of tomatoes, rows of pineapple, piles of avocados.

2. The amazing Coal Men of South B. So famous they are even on google maps, which is quite freaky considering they are a pretty informal, unregulated, just-showed-up-one-day-and-took-over-a-roadside type of thing. But it's an impressive operation. Taking up the whole side of Daidai Road are ridiculously high piles of sacks of charcoal. The guys seem to be there day and night. I watch as they heave an enormous sack of charcoal onto the back of a rickety bicycle, which one of their number then rides, unsteadily, away for delivery to who-knows-where. It looks like it shouldn't work, but it does.

3. Being ignored. As a white guy in Nairobi (and one with a big beard), I stand out and get all the hassle that every other volunteer here will tell you about. But every morning on my commute, I'm ignored. I'm just a commuter. My bus into town is full of ordinary working Kenyans heading into town to do their jobs. They're not shocked by a mzungu. In fact, they barely look up. We're serious people with serious business. I love it.

4. The bus tout and me. Having said that I get ignored, of course this isn't strictly true. I also secretly love it when the bus swings round the corner way down the street before I'm barely out of the door. The bus waits, and the tout beckons to "that white guy who's always getting the bus from here". We're men, the bus touts and I. And we act as men do. We're surly and uncommunicative. But beneath this is a grudging respect and comradeship. Ok so it's probably just me that has assigned all this to our five-word relationship, but I love the ritual of the passenger-tout interaction. The touts are all young guys, too cool for school, loving hanging out of the open doors of the buses and matatus as they whizz around. Their middle names are "Danger". Paying the bus fare involves very deliberately not making eye contact or exchanging words with the tout. That would be way uncool, and immediately mark you out as a tourist. No, you just hand over your 50 bob note, wait as he folds the note over his fingers and takes a few other fares, before handing you back your 20 bob change. He never forgets who's paid, who hasn't, who needs change. What a dude.

5. Taking buses not matatus is, as Helen and every other VSO knows, a real luxury and something I shouldn't forget. Ok, so the buses are still rickety, falling apart, with no suspension, weird smells, violently loud R&B giving you tinnitus, and dangerous driving. But there's space. Almost enough for my legs not to get cramps. And you can breathe, most of the time, without suffocating in someone's armpit. And there's flat rate fares so you don't have to worry about being charged mzungu rate, or having to haggle and protest that you're not a tourist. It's sweet.

5a. The law of two feet, and using them. A late addition to this post is the thrill of an alternative commute. When my bus to town is stuck in the mother of all, you'll-never-get-there-in-a-million-years Nairobi traffic jams, I have now discovered that I can get off and walk! You have to time it right, but if you jump off at the roundabout by Workshops Road, you can join the trudging crowds and walk past the markets, over the rickety pedestrian bridge, enjoy the view over the historic Nairobi railway (historic both because of its impressive history, and because it doesn't seem to have been updated much since it was built in 1899), and hey presto! Arriving in the CBD with a certain "I don't need no help, I'm practically Kenyan" smugness.

6. The CBD. I think I'm one of the most fortunate VSOs, because my commute takes me into, and out of, the centre of Nairobi. Not for me being stuck in one part of the city and never seeing the rest. I'm a bold traveller, confident as I navigate Haile Selassie, Moi Avenue, Tom Mboya Street, the area that VSO told us NOT to go into (which is silly, cos it's where the bus station is). If I'm lucky with the traffic, I'll arrive early for the hospital shuttle bus, and I'll have time to wander (while still trying to look purposeful and un-touristy) around the streets of CBD. I've discovered the best shop to buy phone credit quickly, I've found a weird old cinema, I've sat on park benches and listened to morning sermons booming out from hidden churches, I've investigated all the corners of the Tuskys supermarket and been impressed by the utter randomness of what they sell (showers, hair extensions, jigsaws, mattresses, postcards, condoms called "wet n wild").

7. The blind man who sings beautifully. Having arrived in CBD, I get off and wait for my hospital shuttle bus at what everyone calls "Bomblast" - officially the "August 7th Memorial Park", it's the site of the old US Embassy which was bombed in 1998 by Al-Qaida. On the corner of the park there's a blind man who's there every single day, singing his heart out for a few coins. He sings beautifully, praising God, and every time someone gives him a coin he stops singing and says a prayer. He's amazing.

8. The hospital bus lady. For the second half of my commute, I board the once-an-hour shuttle bus between CBD and Gertrude's Children's Hospital. Definitely the most civilised public transport in Nairobi. The lovely tout lady (yes, a lady!) spends basically all day sitting on the bus going back and forth between hospital and town, yet still she has a smile for people, and has even got used to me smiling back (sort of).

9. The highway. Our journey takes us along a stretch of highway being built even as we speak by a Chinese company. One of several massive projects the Chinese are delivering around Nairobi, the road here is a little bit like hell - dusty, makeshift, ever-changing, jammed with horrible traffic. But in a year's time (or possibly two knowing how long things take here), these highways will have utterly transformed Nairobi. It will be a completely different city. It's amazing to watch every day, and imagine.

10. Muthaiga. I knew before I arrived here that I'd be working in a posh part of town. Muthaiga is certainly that. It's where all the embassies are, nestled behind their gated compounds. It also has trees, flowers, pavements, and monkeys (all rare finds in other parts of the city). Gertrude's hospital fits right in here - a state-of-the-art children's hospital, it seems like a beacon to...something. With children running around everywhere, and a canteen selling warm chapati, it's a pretty nice place to be....

So there you go. That's my commute. Give me a month and I'll be writing about how thoroughly fed up I am with the length, pollution and congestion of my journey. But for now, I kinda like it.

In my office! Another commute complete.