Minibuses (or Matolas) and the informal sector

They are the informal transportation used by the public in Malawi. Informal, in international development term meaning that is not under control or licensed by the government. Informal sector is the economics of those unable to afford the license and maintenance required by the government. Or, the government does not have resources – in the case of this post – for public transportation. Many times, especially in countries in Africa, parts of Asia, South America and even smack in the Chinatown area of New York City where illegal sweatshops sewing Louis Vutton bag duplicates thrive, informal is the way to eke out a living. The informal sector considered the grey market I believe.

Based on my observation, Malawi tolerates the informal industry such as the minibuses because it is the only way the majority of people can afford to pay MWK 50 a ride (or .34 cents in US money) to travel to their jobs, homes, and errands from a distance of miles – or kilometers (therefore contribute the growing economy by doing errands and being employed by whatever means). However due to safety issues, Blantyre places random traffic police spotchecks to ensure that the minibuses aren’t stuffed full of people or vendors carrying produce that can compromise not only the safety but for sanitary reasons. Once, I had the pleasure of sitting (or squished) next to a vendor holding a large uncovered homemade metal bucket full of sardines stinking up the bus.

Most of my experiences riding a minibus are good, but there are occasionally bad rides. It depends on how well the driver and the conductor care for their bus. Sometimes I would appraise the conductor and driver before boarding (or choose not to). Petrol and diesel are expensive, so the conductor would shout out through the window try to recruit riders out of pedestrians and bypass the three people to a row regulation. A minibus can hold three to four rows of seats and one or two rows contain an extra seat that folds out into the crouch/walk space. Each row can seat up to five people depending on how big or thin the passengers are. Small children usually sit on their parent’s lap to make room for others. Once in a while, a minibus would drive by with a conductor’s backside sticking out of the window. I have seen police halt a minibus or two at a time and force the excessive passengers to de-board, and inspect produce if a passenger is carrying any, checking whether the items were properly packed. The driver can face fines. Once or twice I’ve seen a minibus eject some passengers or passengers with produce if they see a police checkpoint ahead of time.

Riding a minibus is the top adventure I’ve encountered so far. No, I have yet to visit a nature park and observe lions, hippos, or hyenas in action like the Animal Planet on TV (Nicar is disappointed in me and now questions the accuracy of the cable channel). The wildest animals I have seen are geckos on my wall or ceiling in my hostel rooms in Lilongwe and Blantyre, and snails outside. Oh, there’s crows and a couple varieties of birds. Back to the point – I’ve a couple bruises from some seat hinges that stuck out, and a very surface scrape on my forearm because people do not wait for you to get on or get off. I’m glad I had a tetanus shot before leaving the States. I still haven’t oriented my physical space – I still bump my head, occasionally slip and/or stumble getting on and off. The motor of the minibus is between the driver’s seat and the front row. Some buses cover it with scraps of rug while others don’t. It can be hot to the touch and my shins have been cooked once or twice. If I’m lucky, I sit on the side or in the middle row, for optimal view of scenery so I know when to get off.

Sunday night, my colleague Charles and I were changing minibuses having arrived into the city centre from a Blantyre suburb. One minibus appeared questionable. Charles was confirming if this was the correct route and he had one leg inside. The driver (an immature one) slammed the pedal and the minibus shot backwards. Charles was able to skip and hop out to avoid becoming a road kill. The minibus went in full speed reverse up the street and a minute later shot down back to us, into a screeching halt (well I didn’t wear my hearing aids but I imagine it did screech). Strange. The conductor beckoned us to climb in, and Charles was wary and put a foot in. Either the driver didn’t check or didn’t care, stepped on the pedal again, and jerked forward. I snapped a sharp HEY! at him. Charles climbed inside and I made eye contact with the driver as I climbed in, daring him with my stare to pull that on me.

Soon as I found my seat – the driver hit the gas. He is the most undisciplined driver I’ve seen so far. On the average bus, the conductor would communicate with the driver and their coordination works well. The conductor tends to be in charge of how the bus move and stop, I’ve noticed.