Part 1: Back on the road (the funny part)

We traveled to Kwale today in style, thanks to the Timber Wolf 150cc motorbike that we rented for the next three weeks. Collin did a great job driving us there. He kept his cool the entire ride and got us there safely. This is impressive for a few reasons:

• The road has pot holes that would be more accurately described as craters.
• In town, the ditches along the roadways are used as public burning stations to dispose of garbage. The result is a dilapidated road clouded with thick smoke and dust. 
• It is not uncommon for people (as well as monkeys, cows, chickens, goats, and the occasional mongoose!) to make a mad dash across the road. When you are in the town near where we are staying, it is a constant hazard that one of the hundreds of matatus, motorcycles , cars, or trucks churning out black exhaust will swerve wildly out of the already weaving and leapfrogging traffic to miss one of the dashing pedestrians. 
  
• You drive on the opposite side of the road from the US. When you are in town, this just adds to the chaos. When you are not in town it doesn't matter because you rarely stay on one side of the road for more than a few seconds due the mandatory snake like maneuvers required if you want to avoid fusing your vertebrae together in one of the above mentioned pot holes.
  

At one point Collin whipped his helmeted head around and shouted, "Something flew off!"

I pushed up my plastic face shield and shouted back, "Something from our back pack?" afraid that my bag had come unzipped.

"NO! Like a piece of the bike just flew off!"

It was under control, though, after the initial swerve when he twisted around on his seat in utter disbelief. Apparently the part wasn't indispensable. We stopped and put it in our backpack to try to reattach it later.

Honestly (pronounce the "h" for a Kenyan accent), it was was luxury compared to the matatus. We started our journey right from our driveway without having to walk or stand in the hot sun and wait for an undetermined amount of time for a Matatu to arrive. When we were at the big junction in town, we just cruised on through without becoming the subject of a literal tug of war (with our bodies being used rather than a rope) between 5-6 hawkers who are paid to recruit passengers at the busy corner. We weren't smashed inside of the sauna-like van to sit on laps AND have our laps sat upon while we waited for 15 minutes, baking in the hot sun and body oder while the hawkers squabble over additional passengers.

I felt triumphant every time we passed one chugging along the road, people's limbs and other body parts spilling out from the windows. Once I actually rode a matatu bent at a 90 degree angle with my rear end sticking out one of the windows. It was the only way to fit (mostly) inside before the driver started flying down the road. That was one of my more indelicate moments, and it was much to my chagrin, at the time. Oh, well. It builds character, as my mom would say. Just like all those hair cuts she gave me until I was eleven. Anyway, really, I feel these things do develop your character and, if you let it, your sense of humor.

People say that this sort of experience teaches you a lesson. Well... we earned our PhDs in whatever lesson that was last year. We are replacing the B.O. with fresh air, and the close proximity to strangers' armpits with truly awe inspiring views of the countryside. The fact that we made that exchange AND we are saving money brings us both unspeakable joy.