Cycle City

I buy a bicycle today, a Raja, made in India; the only women's bike available in Kisumu. It seems women don't ride bikes here (they think it will ruin a woman's reproductive organs--good thing I'm through reproducing!). I buy the bike from Banyala Wholesalers on Odinga Oginga Street near the lake. I've been looking at the bike in the window for two weeks and actually sat on it last week, in the window, to see how it felt. So today I plunk down my 4200 Ksh on the counter. That's about $55 US. It has a platform behind the seat to hold things. One gear. Frank is town this weekend staying with us and he finds a mountain bike for 8000 Ksh. He needs the nobby tires for his 3km trek to the hospital in Ndewa. When it rains in Ndewa there is serious mud, so the 18 speeds and wide tires will get Frank to work in style.

The sales guy walks our bikes to Odis, the 'best bicycle man in Kisumu,' according to the store owner. Odis runs his bicycle repair shop at a corner on Mosque Road. He has a beach umbrella set up and his tools spread across the grass. There's not even a tree, just the umbrella. It seems bicycles are assembled on commission, so the assemblers just throw them together and do not tighten or straigthen anything. Once a bike is sold, it must be 'serviced,' which really means it must be made right. I'm told Odis will charge 150 Ksh for servicing, but instead he says 250. 'The woman at Banyala's said you would charge me 150.'

'The charge is 250, but I'll give you a discount of 200. And I will do a very, very good job for 200.' I go back and tell the store owner Odis is charging me 200 and the owner becomes upset, says Odis is being 'crafty' and charging me more because I'm white. He tells the sales guy to go tell Odis to only charge their customers 150.

Frank and I pick up our bikes around 1:30, in the heat of the day, under the intense sun. There are two guys sitting under the umbrella and one fellow is tightening my pedals. Odis is pumping air into Frank's tires. The men have sweat standing in pools on their faces and their coveralls are spotty with moisture. Why the hell am I arguing over 50 shillings when these men stand in the sun all day, holding metal tools that hold the day's heat? I gladly hand Odis 200 shillings and tell him we'll be by to see him when we need repairs. He is grateful. While Frank, Ian and Roselynn go to lunch, I cycle home carrying some of Frank's purchases. It's a good ride, even with the package suspended from the handle bars and bumping into the front tire occasionally. People look at this 41-year-old woman riding a bike like a kid. Then they look again. But I am home in minutes and out of the sun!