In praise of matatus

ON THE edge of Kangemi, a slum to the west of Nairobi’s city centre, next to stalls selling T-shirts, sandals and second-hand mobile phones, is a busy minibus terminal. A dozen matatu minibuses jostle for space in spectacular paint jobs promoting Premier League football teams, film stars and Jesus Christ. As new vehicles arrive their conductors lean out of the doors shouting out destinations and fares. To an outsider it seems chaotic, and yet locals know exactly how it works. When a bus is full, it departs, and the next moves up.