We called our trusty motor-biker, Paul, who can zip us to and from the matatu stop in seconds flat, should we need it.
Today we did. Hence the call.
We got to the stop. It was going to be tight, but we thought if we could catch a "mat" just right, we might make it.
Only just a tiny bit of a problem: we left our money at home.
Argh!
Turned around, home in seconds flat, Aaron ran inside (flips flopping loudly as he went).
Minutes go by, minutes go by.
Suddenly nimeskia Aaron flips flopping back to the bike--a bagful of change in hand.
I tried not to laugh as the driver looked skeptical.
We told Paul that we now needed to go to "town," but that all three of us would not be riding on one motorbike.
Paul nodded, kick-started the motor and...in seconds flat...we were back to the stop.
As we rounded the bend to the matatu stop at the round-about (which doubles as motor-bike central) several idling motor-bikers suddenly perked up at the prospect of early-morning business.
Without missing a beat, Paul pointed at Paul #2, who, likewise without missing a beat, was at our service in seconds flat.
The Pauls donned helmets, sunglasses, and florescent yellow crossing-guard vests over their winter coats (which they say help them to stay warm in this 90 degree weather as they zip around town).
Then we were off!
It was like the Indy 500 meets the X Games. We were bobbing and weaving in and out of traffic and around policemen like you wouldn't want your mother to see.
For the 5 millionth time in Kenya, I wondered what possessed me to put my life in such danger.
But the Pauls were pros.
Along the way Paul #1 told me about his wife, his son, his daughter, and his church. In past death runs, he's told me about how he rents his bike for 400 shillings ($5) a day, pays 200 shillings ($3) for gas and is left with about 200 - 400 shillings ($3 - $5) at the end of the day to put food on his family's table.
I was feeling guilty that Aaron and I were spending 150 shillings each to take a motorbike to work, because so many of our coworkers can't afford it.
But, then I got to thinking about how that one ride was essentially half of what those men made in one day. And, while our early-morning ride was a little gluttonous by Kenyan standards, I felt better knowing that I was "promoting" (as they say) the lives of these men and their families.
We got to our destination with minutes to spare. As we paid our shillings to the Pauls, their smiles were infectious. They were so happy and so grateful for the business.
I walked away feeling good inside knowing that maybe today I helped to make business a little better...
and because we made it to work alive
and on time.
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