Taking on the rail

The first time I boarded a commuter train in my own country I was more than ecstatic. Even though I had seen the train zoom by our estate every morning and evening since I was three, the actual act of getting on that train and chugging along was always obscure to me.

The D day eventually came and I made my way to the train station at Nairobi. At the gate I found a small crowd of uniformed men and women who kept calling at the passengers. I soon discovered that they were the conductors and that I had to purchase a ticket from them before going into the station. This was a foreign concept to me because in buses and matatus (small mini vans used to ferry passengers in Kenya) I had always paid my fair inside. I obliged.

"When does the train to Umoja leave?" I asked the conductor as he fumbled through his pockets for change.

"5:30" he responded handing me my ticket plus what was left from the 100 shilling note I had given him.

Good! I was early enough, I had enough time to look around, get on the right train and get a good seat. I proceeded toward the security check at the entrance. The lady guard passed her "wand" through my bag. I beeped continuously, still she let me pass. What was the point of the security check if there is no clear follow through after the metal detectors indicated presence of metal? I wondered to myself, but I quickly dismissed that thought. This was not the day to get on my high political horse and critic the system, this was train day, I would enjoy it.

At the platforms there was only one train which seemed like it was about to depart because how full it was. The train was so crammed that men and women alike where dangling off the rails at the carriage doors. I looked on in dread as more people got on this already overflowing train. I hoped that our train wouldn't be as packed. This train probably has more stops, I consoled myself.

I sat on a nearby bench and waited. A voice came on the speaker announcing the overflowing train's departure and soon afterward the train left. I watched the train chug away with a mixture of awe and dread. Soon enough my train came, I got on and sat at the first seat at the door. As we waited, hawkers selling their wares criss-crossed the train announcing their products voices I found very entertaining and strange. Seating there, wide eyed, with melodic hawkers voices in the background I realized that I was experiencing a whole different culture, the culture of train travelers, and I wanted in.