You can't polish a turd

If you don't know this saying, basically it means however much you try to make poopoo look nice, it's still poopoo.

This is basically the case with my father's old banged out Peugeout, Katy (Perry). So named due to the licence plate KTP 833, with the Perry part being reinforced by certain other similarities, such as the large number of admirers it draws though you can't understand why, and it's demanding nature.

My relationship with Katy has been like that of a badly-matched arranged marriage. It started with a lot of fighting, continued with some time apart (I cheated on her with matatus because she refused to move) before reaching a stage where we somehow just tolerate each other. Nowadays she has her fit every three days or so, and I take her to the dukale. We have our understanding.

Take her to the do-what? The dukale*.

My main dukale guy twiddling some things under the hood again. Katy's engine tantrums are now a bi-weekly thing. 

The dukale are Kenya's handymen jim'll fix its. The ones for cars can be found in every major town in a rubbish-littered yard near the main matatu stage. The yard consists of a bumpy field filled with tens of cars (or vans or trucks) in various states of repair, with only one or two ways in or out; and rows of small iron shacks around the field selling car parts which block all other points of entry. The dukale (people) will lounge around  waiting for business by the iron shacks or the tyres which have been randomly half dug into the middle of the field. When a new car turns in off the road, a group of dukale will jump up and offer to repair a range of things, which may or may not include the actual problems that the vehicle is suffering!

errr... it's really difficult to capture the atmosphere of a dukale yard without arising suspicion. Not the kind of place you whip out your camera....

Now these dukale yards can look pretty daunting from the outside, but are quite fascinating once you are inside. The first time you go there you'll be harassed a bit, and if you're not careful you'll be ripped off. But if you get to know a good dukale, the door opens. You can use him to meet other dukale and as a result you will be able to fix almost any problem with your vehicle for between 200 and 1,000 shillings (1.80 - 8.50 euros; yes you read that correctly; and outside Nairobi it will be even cheaper!) Imagine trying to get a whole car wing filled, repaired and resprayed for anywhere near 10 euros in Europe; or a cracked exhaust pipe fixed for 3 euros (as I have managed to here)!

This fella spent three hours hammering, filling and repainting the rear wing along with his crew of two. Total bill? 1200 shillings (about 10 euros). 

As you can imagine, Katy has had a wide range of problems. As a result, I've developed a list of dukale contacts for just about every problem you can encounter in a car; I've got a traditional mechanic, an electrics guy, a welder, a doors and windows guy, a locksmith and a bodyworks fella.

Yet despite the tens of trips to the dukale yard, Katy just keeps developing problems. Ok, some of them are caused by misuse (see below), I'll give you that. Most of the other problems are a hangover from her sitting idle for 13 years.

No, really, I treat Katy very well. Don't overwork her at all.

She's developed a custom made roofrack.

Yes it is possible to drive like this. I managed a whole 10km like this but hit one of the pipes on a tree at the last bend.

So the next time decided the roof is a better option....

... also for wood.

lots of wood

As I near the end of the Kenya journey, I'm closing in on the moment in time where I have to sell (divorce) Katy. And I find myself looking at how to get the best settlement, i.e. how to make Katy as attractive as possible. Hence I've found myself fixing those annoying problems with the car during the last week that I had learnt to live with. Like having to climb out the driver side window because the door won't open. Or replacing the weatherstrips (water seals) on the window because every time it rains outside the car, a lake develops inside.  Or the boot (trunk) which requires a piece of wood to hold it open as the hydraulic lifts have broken, so if you don't put something to hold it up it falls on your head. I can't tell you how many braincells I've lost from that damn thing falling on my head.

But I am wondering if it's actually worth it. After all, as the title says, you can't polish a turd!

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*I've actually probably spelt this wrong as I've never had to write it previously. Plus the majority of Kenyans have a log of difficulty differentiating between letters "l" and "r". As well as "i", "a" and "e" to a lesser extent. So there is every chance it is written "dukeri" for example!