Spare a thought for matatu; the bell tolls for this unique industry

Last week, the design of the New Central Railway Station and Public Realm – part of the wider Nairobi Railway City redevelopment programme – was launched. For the second year in a row, the 2022 Economic Survey indicated that fewer matatus/minibuses were registered (1,024 and 822) respectively.

Drive along Mombasa Road and you quickly realise that the number of private cars far outnumber matatus. There were times when the newest fleet of cars on the road were matatus. You only spot a few nowadays. And far less few people take the matatu than ever before.

What is happening? Something slow, quiet but far-reaching is taking place noticeable only to the discerning eye. The matatu – an emblem of the entrepreneurial, can-do-spirit, stubbornness, innovativeness and a symbol of the breakdown of law and order is stuttering.

Thanks to technological disruption from Uber and Bolt and other ride-hailing apps. Also, as living standards rise, there is demand for a decent drive to work and back home; and as more people reside in gated communities car-pooling becomes the norm rather than the exception. And then boda boda happened.

Most importantly, as economic prospects get better, most of those living off the 100,000 or so matatus will get into the formal economy. Gavin Kitching, British author and professor of Social Sciences at the University of New South Wales argues that the informal sector – including the matatu, mama mboga, boda boda- is “a place where people go whose only options are worse.”

I think that the matatu will be no more in 10 or less years. With several forces buffeting it including the rollout of BRT and road infrastructure that don’t favour random bus stops like the Nairobi Expressway, it might be a matter of time before the matatu makes the last lap.

It might reappear in another format especially as government moves back into public transport translating to a cheaper, orderly, reliable and efficient means of moving people from one place to another.

These aren’t conditions under which the iconic matatu will thrive. Yet despite that, the place of the matatu in the psyche of the nation is there, perhaps in the national archives as a footnote. It is a whole ecosystem that is sustained by the thuggishness.

Actually, the matatu remains the single-most influencer in our daily lives; you are either in one, going to catch one, being overtaken by one or being bullied out of the road by one.

The matatu is so pervasive in our lives, we cannot ignore it. And that is why I am melancholic. It symbolises so much good and bad. Largely for worse, sometimes for better, our world has been defined by the matatu sub-culture. The matatu even got into Kenya’s idiom. And so I wonder if the bond between the matatu and the Kenyan public will ever be broken, the dreadful ride and the daily brush with death notwithstanding.

For our obsession with the matatu goes beyond its functional and utilitarian aspects. Its reliability and robustness is never in doubt. It is efficient, indiscriminate and on the spot. But customer service was never in the bargain.

It throbs with non-conformity, outright deviance at times bordering on the suicidal.

Indeed, at one point many feared that competition would push it off the road, but alas, it endured the entry of the comfier and less noisier minibuses.

The pleasant experience of boarding a shuttle where there is room for a civilised chat, reading a newspaper, a novel and of course having those satisfying quiet moments far outweighs the rigours of getting into a matatu.

What does the death of the matatu portend? Kenya holds the dubious distinction of being among the countries in the world with more road fatalities; more than those with more cars and people on the road. Fewer matatus means fewer road accidents and therefore fewer insurance claims.

The matatu sits atop the bribery enterprise that is chocking and turning private enterprise into an unworthy venture. Its fall will surely topple the police and transport sector cartels.

Additionally, on average because of the greed for higher mark-ups, most are badly, if ever, maintained leading to increased wear and tear. And so matatus pollute the environment the most. Their exit will be a boon to the environment.

Yet if you thought the matatu was ‘bad news’, the entry of the motorcycles that exhibit the same madness, if not worse is something to chew over. Don’t forget; a stitch in time saves nine. 

Mr Kipkemboi is Partnerships and Special Projects Editor, Standard Group