‘Ticket to Hell’ Is Cheap, Popular and Risky for Kenyan Commuters

Operators of Kenya’s garishly painted minibus taxis seem to revel in their lawlessness, unabashedly inviting passengers to board vehicles emblazoned with names such as “The Terrorist,” “Highway Massacre” and “The Ticket to Hell.”

Each year, accidents involving the largely unregulated taxis, known as matatus, kill hundreds of passengers--far more than the marauding bandits who roam parts of this East African nation.

With their earthquake music and graffiti art, matatus are reigned over by fearless crews of at least three young men, many of whom hang out of the careening vehicles to solicit passengers. Several times a day, the drivers cough up bribes to police officers who pull them over for cramming more than 25 people in minivans designed to carry no more than seven.

But the dreaded matatu--which one prominent guidebook describes as Kenya’s contribution to the world--may be about to get a makeover.

Taxi owners, who have to battle cartels that control the matatu trade, are pressuring authorities to enact a code of conduct that they say will finally bring civility to their rough-and-tumble business.

The proposed rules of the matatu owners are telling: They would prevent drivers from chewing khat, smoking marijuana or indulging in other drugs while on duty. Operators would have to possess driver’s licenses and not be “morally decadent.”

Loud music and most graffiti art would be outlawed. Touts--brash conductors who solicit passengers--would be required to wear uniforms. Matatus would sport strips of cautionary orange painted over their original colors.

Many Kenyans believe that the campaign to rescue the country from what is known here as “matatu madness” is destined to fail.

“Asking a matatu driver to display good manners is like pleading with a lion to stop hunting for meat,” said George Mvudi, who drives a matatu with the name Oprah emblazoned on the windshield. “It’s a jungle out there, and if you don’t follow rules of the jungle, you don’t survive.”

“Let the people of Nairobi have a song and a bit of color,” said Mutuma Mathiu, a columnist for the Daily Nation newspaper. “Life is hard as it is without adding mousy matatus and touts in smocks.”

Matatu counterculture, Mathiu said, is a porthole into the chaotic soul of Nairobi, the Kenyan capital.

“The matatu man epitomizes the impatient, aggressive, virile and energetic qualities of our city,” he said. “The up-yours literature and art on the matatu ... is the language of a polluted, poor and unplanned city.”

The history of the matatu dates to Kenya’s 1963 independence from Britain, when young entrepreneurs bought used military vehicles to ferry people from the suburbs to jobs in the city. Riders paid tatu--the Swahili word for three--cents. (Rides in Nairobi now cost about 15 to 40 cents, depending on the distance.)

As workers flocked to Nairobi, matatus became wildly popular, providing a cheaper alternative to Kenya’s inefficient bus service.

The matatus began reflecting the hobbies, personal fantasies and dreams of their drivers and touts. Today, matatus are likely to bear the names of hip-hop artists--Snoop Doggy Dogg, P. Diddy, Ice T--or sports idols such as Marion Jones, Mike Tyson and Kobe Bryant.

Other drivers simply try to cash in on hot news topics. John Okana, 29, named his Nissan matatu Monica Lewinsky after the revelation that she was romantically involved with former President Clinton.

“I love her toughness and her abilities to stand things,” Okana said. “Plus, it has given me an upper hand on women [passengers], who love riding this vehicle.”

Driver Stephen Macharia found that naming his matatu Oprah--”I just fell in love with her, her beauty, her show”--meant more riders. Several copycats have since splashed the name of the talk-show host on their matatus.

Names aren’t the only way that crews compete. Matatus are mobile discos, pumping out the latest hip-hop, lingala (Congolese pop) and reggae dance-hall tunes at an ear-shattering 200 decibels.

A doctor at Kenyatta National Hospital here said many passengers have suffered “mental disturbance, stress, dizziness and vertigo” after being bombarded with the loud music.

A common rule for matatu operators is that there is always room for one more. Because some passengers have to sit on others’ laps, women are frequently groped. Many riders tumble out of the barely stopped vehicles, their wallets, cell phones and other valuables in the possession of pickpockets.

It doesn’t help that matatu crews are often sleep-deprived teenagers who use their meager wages to buy booze, marijuana and shoots of khat, a mild stimulant.

Police say horrific matatu crashes account for most of the 3,000 Kenyans who die in road accidents each year. According to media reports, Kenya has the highest vehicular fatality rate in the world.

Last year, 23 people were killed and 35 injured when their speeding, 25-seat matatu plunged into a river south of Nairobi.

Survivors described how frightened passengers had pleaded with the drunk driver to stop speeding.

“We [begged] the driver to slow down since he was not familiar with the road, but his two [touts] cheered him on,” said Makau Mutune, who survived the crash along with the driver.

In its latest guide to East Africa, Lonely Planet offers tourists on safaris tips on how to survive a matatu ride and notes: “Valium is available over the counter in Kenya.”

Despite their reputation, matatus have become cash cows. By some estimates, the country’s 40,000 matatus rake in about $100 million a year, which means that many Kenyans stand in line to collect their share.

A few years ago, the government began requiring matatu owners to pay a few thousand dollars before allowing their vehicles on the road.

Now Mafia-style cartels--one calls itself the Taliban--charge matatu owners as much as $1,000 to operate on a route, and they insist on hiring the drivers and touts. During the last year, several people have died in violent clashes between rival cartels.

And there are the daily police checkpoints, or unofficial toll stations, where matatus have to pay nearly $3, a tidy sum in Kenya. Traffic officers, who earn less than $100 a month, use the bribes to supplement their wages.

John Githongo, a prominent local commentator who heads the local chapter of corruption-watchdog group Transparency International, said many traffic officers--who must share the bribes with their superiors--compete fiercely to be assigned to lucrative routes.

Four years ago, retired banker Dickson Mbugua, who owns three 25-seat matatus, decided to bring some order to the matatu business.

He formed the Matatu Welfare Assn., a group of owners that would fight the cartels, corrupt police officers and unkempt drivers and touts.

Mbugua decided that before the group tackled corruption, matatu owners first had to put their own houses in order--hence the code of conduct.

Drivers and touts have come out strongly against the code, particularly the uniform requirement. Some say uniforms and hip-hop culture don’t mix.

“No one is going to respect us if we wear aprons,” said David Kariuki, a tout who earns about $4 a day. “Uniforms are for girls. This is a man’s job.”

The proposed code of conduct has yet to be approved by transportation authorities.

But Mary Mwangangi, a deputy commissioner of police and the country’s top traffic officer, said the new rules have her blessing.

What about reining in her own gangs of corrupt officers?

“I have a plan,” she said, and paused. “But if I tell you, they’ll find out.”

Many passengers, accustomed to obnoxious matatu crews, don’t believe that the code of conduct will make a difference.

“A rude and smelly tout in a uniform will still be a rude and smelly tout,” 24-year-old Esther Onyango said as she alighted from the Princess Diana.

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Samuel Hinga Mwangi of The Times’ Nairobi Bureau contributed to this report.