The Swaying Bus and the Moral Code

2am - Somewhere beyond civilization a bus travels the long stretch between Nairobi and Mombasa.

A violent thud.
Stunned silence, followed by excited voices and now the whole world appears to be gently rocking back and forth.
I pinch myself- I'm awake, relatively sober... this must be reality.

It seems the bus is experiencing some technical difficulties. I don't know very much about motor vehicles, but I do know that (ideally) you want all four wheels on the road at all times. No such luck in our case.
The bus is half- trapped in a sand ditch (the driver was attempting to overtake), kind of careening back and forth with the right- side wheels firmly lodged in the mud, the bus making a 45 degree angle with the road. People begin to calmly exit from the left- side windows. A small team assembles to quietly assist in shoving a more- traditionally built lady out the window, I watch in amusement.

Africans are pretty funny like that. Ive seen explosive montague/capulet tensions erupt over a "coke v. sprite" conversation, but when faced with more consequential crises: socio-political, economic, motor vehicle or otherwise- there are displays of remarkable amounts of grace, calm and perserverence.

After everyone has cleared out of the bus, I weigh my options. There seems to be a bit of an effort to tip the bus back over and upright, but that could take hours - i needed to be in Nairobi for a super-important meeting by 9am.
Hitching was the obvious option, but I was alone and the only emergency weapon I had on me was a blunt kitchen knife that I was using for mangoes in Malindi.
I would embark on a survivor- esque adventure in the bush, but my hatred of mosquitoes made me not want to sacrifice my body to their Temple of Doom. That and it wouldnt get me to Nairobi at 9am.
I had no choice but to stick it out. Too dark to read, I occupy myself by studying the situation around me. The reactions of the people were quite fascinating. No one reached for a cellphone, yelled at the driver, there was no "replacement bus". The women and elderly found spots on the ground to fall back asleep, while the men began to strategize a way to get the bus back in action. Four hours later, as the sun cracked the horizon, we were on our way. That wasnt the sexiest, most exciting of stories, but for me the whole episode really highligthed the difference in Western vs. Developing world mentalities, so I thought I would share.

Ive met a lot of Western interns/ short -term volunteers/workers who complain about the differences in work pace here, i think their frustrations stem from a lack of understanding of the difference in the way that we percieve 'time'. There is much of a 'que sera sera/ let-life- happen' type attitude here which poses direct opposition to the 'plan- and-control' ways of the West. Both have their merits and weaknesses, but just being aware of the different perspectives will make your travels much more peaceful.

So Im back in Nairobi. The past few weeks have been peaceful and lovely. A few nights in Siavonga, Zambia in a quiet hut on the shores of Lake Kariba got me reaquainted with my paintbrush and my inner peace. From there, it was to Botswana via Livingstone to go camping near Chobe National Park with a good friend. Warthogs roamed the campsite, and ate our breakfast one morning, thereby becoming my new favourite animal after canines and humans.

Back in Nairobi, I faced the biggest challenge of my trip thus far- spending a night at the ritziest hotel in nairobi, the serena, with my mum (who was in town for a week for a visit). I would have preferred something more modest, but i was excited to see my mum after so long, so i swallowed my pride and handed my backpack to the bellboy. The price of a nights accomodation makes me quite uneasy- and against my conscious will, my mind works to calculate how many childrens' tuition could be paid for the price of the wine, the room service, the absentmindedly purchased items from the gift shop.
After having the best shower ive had in 3 months, i plop down on the bed and flip through a whopping 28 channels on the large screen tv. I feel guilty that Im secretly enjoying the suite, and question my own integrity.

Is it the wealth that makes me uneasy? Some people have money and some people don't.
I was raised in a world of maids and drivers and "trips to Europe for the weekend". I feel prepared to be critical of my own frivolous and excessive spending, but not to wage a war against my entire upbringing.
But im aware that at the tender age of 20, ive spent more money than the sum total of many East African communities. Tuition at the grad school im interested in could build a small hospital. Do I really believe that every human should have equal access to resources? If so, I should drop out of school, use just enough money to survive on and track down a green cap with a red feather and become Robin Hood. I take time to seriously consider the idea (ive always wanted a bow and arrow), but I don't see it as a plausible reality.
Im going back to London in a couple of weeks, before home- I cant deny that Im looking forward to wine and sushi and funky vintage shoes from Camden market.
Oh, morality. Where do you even start?
As usual, I have more questions than I do answers. But thats the beauty of life and I wouldnt have it any other way.

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