The days of our lives

When I went to work this morning I started to think about how surreal everything really is. It feels like someone have just snapped me out of my normal life, and put me on another planet, just to see if it is possible to survive.
I wake up in the morning, and rush together with my colleagues to the bus-stop to catch the bus going to town. But it is not so easy, survival of the fittest is the best explanation of what is happening. A lot of people, few buses, and everybody are running and pushing to get a seat on the bus. After some running and tactical thinking, I might get a seat on the fifth bus passing by. But the journey is not over yet, in town I'm rushing between shouting street-sellers, a moving crowd of people, cars, buses and matatus, until I reach the place where I can jump into the matatu bringing me to work. Of course they always try to trick me into paying a bit to much..
-"Ngapi?"
-"30 bop"
-"Hapana! 20!"
-"Okey, okey! Get in! Fasta', buddha, fasta' buddha!"
If I'm lucky the matatu actually drives the whole way, where it is supposed to go. If not I'm arguing as best as I can, just to realize that they don't care this time either. Money matters, not people.. So I just have to get out and walk the last bit. When I have gotten out of the matatu, the drunk man normally shows up shouting: "Why are you here! I'm so angrrrrry! I will kill you!" He's always so drunk that his feet are not moving as fast as mine, so luckily no problem there. Walking the last bit, through a slum-area, about 10 children gathers around. They know that the wazungu girls are passing every morning, and they come running as fast as they can, just to be able to shout: "How are you! How are you! How are you!" and shake our hands. Then they are happy, and we are also happy, because on the other side of the street is the MYSA-office, and we have finally arrived.