A Note On Marshrutkas

14:00 10 August 2008

Marshrutkas can be a range of adjectives; the first that come to mind are terrifying, comical, uncomfortable, and strangely efficient. In essence a marshrutka is a mini-bus used in Kyrgyzstan and other Russian-speaking countries. It is the primary/only form of public transportation here. They range from Soviet era van-like vehicles to relatively nice Mercedes Benz made minibuses. They are usually set up with five to six rows of seats, two on one side and one on the other with an aisle in between. The seats are laughably small, while I usually prefer the aisle seats, on a marshrutka, it’s not a preference, it’s a physical necessity, I simply will not fit in a seat sitting forward. However, I only know this from the few times I have had the opportunity to sit. In addition to the 15-20ish seated passenger room, there is about room for 10 to stand single file in the aisle. Regardless of the fact that there is only truly room for about 25 in a marshrutka, they are often packed with upwards of forty five or fifty people.

Their overcrowding is largely the reason for the aforementioned adjectives. These things are like clown cars, at the end of a line, people just keep getting out for a seemingly impossibly long time. A few days ago I had what I hope will be the penultimate experience with this method of transport. I was on a marshrutka so full, that there was not room in the aisles to stand. Consequently, I did an awkward wall sit against the side of the marshrutka about two inches above a Kyrygz man’s lap. I ended the ten minute ride with my quadriceps screaming in agony and I had seriously considered just plopping into this man’s lap. I didn’t because, though our proximity was certainly nothing unusual (he barely even looked up when I assumed my position), I felt that would almost certainly be considered culturally inappropriate.
Despite the ridiculousness of marshrutkas, they are a commonplace element of every Kyrgyz person’s life. This "everyone deals with it" status has led to a lot of nice habits, like offering seats to those who need them most (new mothers, older people, and children), passing back and forth the fare and change (with no one skimming as far as I can tell), letting the driver know if you hear someone ask for a stop (he certainly won’t unless he is sure), and most remarkably to me, seated passengers unquestioningly taking the held objects of standing passengers until they debark. While a marshrutka ride is cramped, uncomfortable, boiling hot, and often smells bad, it also is often an opportunity to see the best sides of people. I heard rumor that the U.S. Embassy doesn’t allow it’s employees to ride them (presumably because of the frequency of pick-pocketing) but that isn’t an option on Peace Corps salary, and anyway, I’m glad I get to have that cultural experience.