Air travel is a marvellous thing. Quick, efficient and relatively safe. One of the best advertisements for air travel that you will ever see are the car and bus drivers of East Africa . Reincarnated Japanese Kamikaze pilots, all of them, as if the very roads themselves aren't problematic enough we must also cope with astounding displays of macho auto bravado. Frightening things happen, moment by ridiculous moment. Overtaking is the order of the day and must be executed (I use the term deliberately) in the most precarious situation possible. Approaching the top of a hill, or a blind corner provides the perfect opportunity. Another of the favourites is popping out suddenly from the immediate rear of a truck, face first, into the rapidly oncoming traffic with air horns blaring righteous defiance. Kenyans consider air horns and ‘Jesus Saves' stickers to be some kind of magical disaster evasion system. Unfortunately, they aren't.

Roundabouts are total mayhem. Pandemonium. Only Rome comes close. Do these roads have rules? If so, the ‘Mutatu' drivers aren't aware of them. A ‘Mutatu' is a van. Any van, which could, for example, comfortably seat about 9 people, except that the African's have crammed about 20 into the same space. And don't think it's full yet, you can bet they'll squish someone else in, “Twendi, Twendi!”, even if it's on top of you! These grossly overcrowded mobile coffins, equipped with agonisingly distorted sound systems and mandatory air horns, ply their trade at breakneck speed with scant regard to safety or rules of any kind. And their trade is people.

It can't happen to me – Cont-

One's breath is held in anticipation of impending doom as some petrol headed imbecile, full of his own importance and mission, flings his speeding projectile up the wrong lane toward anything which may be minding it's own business there. With righteous fervour, he runs the gauntlet of oncoming traffic and makes up a mere two insignificant places on his way to the next dimension, whilst you and your fellow white knuckled passengers sit, stony faced and powerless, behind him.

In fairness and by complete contrast, some Kenyan drivers graciously put up with these notorious ‘outrunners' with little more than a casual shrug and a deep sigh. Swearing and gesticulating seems to have little or no effect and the law seems completely blind to vehicular indiscretion.

I love Kenya . Love the people. Except when they drive.

I'm intending to return soon and I'm eagerly awaiting delivery of my Sherman tank.

© Copyright. Peter Healy. All rights reserved. No part of this written work may be reproduced by any means; including but not limited to mechanical, photographic, digital, Internet or other electronic process; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or otherwise be copied for public or private use; without the expressed written permission of Peter Healy.