Road Rules
We were driving back from a meeting in a neighboring village this afternoon when a matatu overtook us on the right, honking and swerving impatiently. It cut in front of us and swerved across the lane to the curb, stopping suddenly to pick up some awaiting passengers. Our driver patiently slowed down, then went around the matatu, which was still loading passengers. A few seconds later, the same matatu caught up to us and swerved hard towards us, trying to run us off the road. The roads here are full of crap drivers, but this was all so sudden and unprovoked that even I could tell this wasn’t just incompetent driving. It was intentional harassment.
“God, WHAT is that guy’s problem?” I said indignantly, a hard edge in my voice. We had been chatting in our vehicle, but the incident had stopped our conversation in mid-sentence.
My two co-workers just shrugged and continued talking to each other as if someone deliberately trying to run other vehicles off the road were normal. I pulled out my notebook and pen and took the license plate of the offending matatu, and was about to announce it triumphantly. Then I decided against it, feeling like they would just wonder why Americans get so worked up about little things, and then feel the need to punish someone who has wronged us.
It was one of those incidents that first highlights a Kenyan peculiarity, then upon further thought highlights an American peculiarity. My first reaction to my co-workers was, why do they let people do rude or dangerous things to them, and seem resigned to it? I interpreted their nonchalance as learned disempowerment: a lifetime of being treated unfairly and no longer getting worked up about it because they know they can’t do anything about it.
I fully acknowledge that this is just my skewed and naïve Western perspective. I have no idea why my co-workers didn’t seem to mind that we had almost been driven off the road, and that there was still someone out there driving a matatu who has little regard for the safety of other people. I’m sure the idea of taking the matatu’s plates and reporting it to the police never crossed their minds, and if I told them I had a mind to do so, they would have just laughed at me. Report it to the police, one of the most corrupt institutions in the country? What’s that going to accomplish?
I think that Americans take things very personally. We’re a bit narcissistic. To me, it wasn’t just some idiot endangering other people on the road. It was some idiot endangering ME. We also have a deep sense of justice – this idea that every action has a consequence, and everyone must be rewarded or punished in a way that fits the action. We are not a forgiving culture the way Kenyans are. Instead we need closure. You can see this in the way nearly every American movie has a conclusive ending. They get together. They get the bad guy. They survive hardship.
We are big believers in fairness. Then we step outside our borders and see what our moms have been telling us all our lives: Life ain’t fair. Maybe Kenyans have just accepted this fact. And maybe Americans have never understood this fact. We are constantly trying to impose our idea of fairness on a world that doesn’t play by those rules.
“God, WHAT is that guy’s problem?” I said indignantly, a hard edge in my voice. We had been chatting in our vehicle, but the incident had stopped our conversation in mid-sentence.
My two co-workers just shrugged and continued talking to each other as if someone deliberately trying to run other vehicles off the road were normal. I pulled out my notebook and pen and took the license plate of the offending matatu, and was about to announce it triumphantly. Then I decided against it, feeling like they would just wonder why Americans get so worked up about little things, and then feel the need to punish someone who has wronged us.
It was one of those incidents that first highlights a Kenyan peculiarity, then upon further thought highlights an American peculiarity. My first reaction to my co-workers was, why do they let people do rude or dangerous things to them, and seem resigned to it? I interpreted their nonchalance as learned disempowerment: a lifetime of being treated unfairly and no longer getting worked up about it because they know they can’t do anything about it.
I fully acknowledge that this is just my skewed and naïve Western perspective. I have no idea why my co-workers didn’t seem to mind that we had almost been driven off the road, and that there was still someone out there driving a matatu who has little regard for the safety of other people. I’m sure the idea of taking the matatu’s plates and reporting it to the police never crossed their minds, and if I told them I had a mind to do so, they would have just laughed at me. Report it to the police, one of the most corrupt institutions in the country? What’s that going to accomplish?
I think that Americans take things very personally. We’re a bit narcissistic. To me, it wasn’t just some idiot endangering other people on the road. It was some idiot endangering ME. We also have a deep sense of justice – this idea that every action has a consequence, and everyone must be rewarded or punished in a way that fits the action. We are not a forgiving culture the way Kenyans are. Instead we need closure. You can see this in the way nearly every American movie has a conclusive ending. They get together. They get the bad guy. They survive hardship.
We are big believers in fairness. Then we step outside our borders and see what our moms have been telling us all our lives: Life ain’t fair. Maybe Kenyans have just accepted this fact. And maybe Americans have never understood this fact. We are constantly trying to impose our idea of fairness on a world that doesn’t play by those rules.
posted by Justina at 9:09 PM
1 Comments:
Very interesting and true observation about us Americans ~P
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