Kenyan motorists are a unique breed of survivors. It all starts with the purchase of a car, where meaty decisions have to be made, the first of which is to decide whether you want a new car or an old car. This can be a decision between life and death, for to buy a new car is a risky business: the market for certain models of new cars is very aggressive, to the point of having your new vehicle removed from your possession at gunpoint, to be taken to Dubai, chopped into pieces, put back together again, painted another colour and sent back to Nairobi to be sold to another new car.

Having researched the type of new car that you want (having made sure it is appropriately ugly, is painted in the least popular colour and had terrible things said about its reliability), off you go to the car yard, where you have to run the gamut of Kenyan car salesmen who tell you that your peach orange left hand drive BMW has just been imported from Germany, despite the fact that the log book is in Arabic. You decline the offer and decide to try to import a car from Dubai yourself.

So you head down to the Customs and Excise department to find out what might be involved, leaving seven days later, having seen twelve officials in nine departments in two buildings on two sides of town. The last official tells you to go to Mombasa and ask the captain of the big blue ship about importing cars from Dubai. You decide that second hand is definitely the way to go.

Reading the Nation, you see that many of the cars for sale have ‘Expatriate Leaving’ in the advert. This seems to be code for ‘reliable’, as if expatriates are especially qualified as drivers. But when you ring to find out about the cars, you never seem to be able to get in touch with any expatriate at all, let alone one departing.

Apparently over 70% of cars sold in Nairobi are ‘reconditioned’. Quite how new or old is a little hard to determine, salesmen tend to be a little vague. ‘Like New’ they say. The paint is shiny, the instruments are clean, little stickers in Japanese reassure you that an oriental gentlemen has personally inspected the vehicle at some point in its past. The engine starts, OK, there’s a little smoke as you drive around the block but then all vehicles in Nairobi smoke. It’s something to do with the altitude apparently, even though cars in Switzerland and the Rocky Mountains never seem to suffer the same problem. The Nairobi air perhaps. Dodgy fuel. Who can tell. The brakes work though, which is important. The car seems extraordinarily cheap, a bargain no less. The vendor assures you everything is fine, all the paperwork, no problem no problem.
What the hell, you give them a deposit and off you go. ‘Come back next week for the car, log book and new number plates.’

Next week you collect your car. You arrange to meet the salesman inside the bank where your bank manager hands over the cheque: no-one conducts any business involving the transfer of money outside of a bank. You are reassured that if the salesman is prepared to meet your bank manager he can’t be that bad. You fail to realise of course that your bank manager has met many a crook before, and that didn’t stop them. But anyway, you walk to your new car, complete with number plates, your log book is made of crisp cardboard that looks like it might have once been part of a cereal packet, and off you go, with a sigh of relief. You have wheels.

At the roundabout, a policeman pulls you over, checks your licence, asks for your logbook, then tells you he’s impounding your vehicle. A thousand shillings later, you drive home, and six weeks and several more thousand shillings later you get your real log book to go with your ‘real’ driving license. You are able to drive six months after you decided to look for a car.



The purpose of Kenyan roads is not to convey vehicles and traffic as efficiently and smoothly as possible. Far from it. The long serving dynasty of Kenyan road builders can happily look back on their achievements, having sustained an industry of part time mechanics, spare parts suppliers, puncture repairmen, construction industry moguls and politicians of all persuasions. There are five main dangers on Kenyan roads: potholes, speed bumps, traffic policemen, matatus and other road users.

Potholes are an art form in Kenya. There are several varieties increasing in order of severity: These are the common or garden bump, the minor crater, the water-filled mine shaft, the vicious crater, the moon crater, the rift valley, and the forgot-to-fill-it-in trench. On top of these, there is a totally distinct category of pothole, being former potholes now repaired. These also fall into two categories: repaired by the council, or repaired by some guy with a pick-axe and some rocks who wants money from passers by. Neither repaired pothole is particularly satisfactory, but they are preferable to un-repaired potholes. A suspension manufacturer apparently specifically designs Kenyan potholes. Ideas are contributed by tyre makers and spring repairers, after years of perfected research.

Speed bumps also fall into a number of categories: those in towns, and those not in towns. Those in towns are made with congestion in mind and bear little relation to traffic speed or strategic location. They are often strips of tarmac caked onto a road in groups or a large pile of whatever building material happens to be available at the time of manufacture. Out of town speed bumps are the real dangers. They are found at random at the boundaries of settlements, and serve two purposes, namely to force drivers to brake to a screaming halt in a cloud of dust, or to promote the suspension and blow out repair industries that thrive in such settlements. The design of out-of-town speed bumps is calculatedly austere, with vertical sides and a steep a collision impact as possible. The ideal out of town speed bump can stop a truck instantly by removing its axle in one passing.

Traffic policemen serve two purposes. One is to lay spikes in the road at random intervals. Often these spikes carry a reversible sign, one side of which says ‘ Road Block’ and the other says ‘Accident Ahead’. Either sign can be visible, depending on whether the policemen wish to cause a traffic jam or create an accident. Traffic policemen also serve the subsidiary purpose of collecting random and indirect taxation from road users, and occasionally hitch rides to take up space in vehicles that otherwise might have been empty.

Matatus serve as beacons for accidents. The idea behind a matatu is to ferry as many potential accident victims in the most haphazard and dangerous manner between any two points in space and time. It’s a unique Kenyan invention. The idea is they serve to keep other road users attention on anything but the road. They abide by specific rules, which include that they must overtake simply anything regardless of oncoming traffic, particularly if they intend to stop on the side of the road immediately after overtaking. Other rules include the fact that they must race all other vehicles on the road, especially other matatus, their drivers must chew miraa and smoke copious amounts of marijuana, must play as loud a soundtrack as possible irrespective of the capacity of the speakers, must hoot at regular intervals and must ensure their vehicle is both un-roadworthy and overloaded at all times. .

Other road users include pedestrians, cyclists (often with two or three passengers), mkokoteni cart drivers, donkeys, random wildlife including camels, elephants, tortoises, gazelles, zebra and the like, truckers, matatus, and unlicensed drivers. There are a number of road rules that apply:

At night, it is necessary to drive with your lights on full beam in repeating games of dazzle-chicken. It is preferred that Kenyan car owners purchase as many spotlights as possible to assist in your passage. Only drive in the very centre of the road. Give way to larger vehicles at the last minute only. Do not observe lanes, roundabouts, zebra crossings, signposts, speed limits, no overtaking signs, or any other signs of any nature whatsoever. Drink as much Tusker as you possibly can before getting behind the wheel, especially at night.

And finally the Kenyan vehicle owner must content with that special breed, the jua kali mechanic.

The one qualification of any mechanic anywhere in the world is that they must be pathological liars. Normal liars need not apply. Mechanics anywhere in the world really must reach a very high standard of deviance and deception before being allowed to run amok with a spanner near anything vehicular. But Jua Kali mechanics are the elite SWAT team of normal mechanics.

The secret of a good jua kali mechanic is that not only do they lie like a schizophrenic but they must possess a sledge hammer, a home made welding machine, reams of elastic made from cannibalised inner tubes, they must enjoy taping up huge bundles of electrical wires into a greasy sparking mess where no previous fault existed, and know how to change a tyre using sniffing glue, an old inner tube, a muddy puddle and some sandpaper.

The Kenyan vehicle owner must deposit his vehicle with a jua kali mechanic for at least 20% of the vehicles operating life (42 years), and in between these service intervals must replace the battery, points, distributor, carburettor, tyres, shock absorbers, springs, bushes and any other moving part at least four times a quarter.
They must also pour untold volumes of oil and fuel into random funnel holes under the hood, and allow petrol pump attendants to wash, grease, manipulate and polish anything they wish. For such is the price of vehicle ownership.

Lovely!

Interesting that Kenyans like to use their high beams at night. In Egypt, they only turn their lights on when they suspect something might be approaching. I don't know what's worse.

Observer, thats a brilliant insight into the mind of the Kenyan motorist and what they have to put up with....

Sooz, the best thing to do in Kenya is to AVOID driving at night!! You just have no idea if you'll survive....

Seems like the best thing to do in Kenya is avoid driving altogether! I hate driving at night anyway - especially on the motorbike, it's horrible.

Private jet would do me fine... or are there potholes in the Kenyan sky too

Observer, along with the full headlights, one in three cars should only have one of the headlights working. This is to keep the oncoming traffic guessing wether you are a car or a motor cycle!
However, I enjoy driving in Kenya much more than London anyday.
Also, in Kenya, flashing your lights could either mean I am coming or a sign of giving way.

I know they've fixed them up with all the new hotels that were built but Zanzibar should have been better known for it's huge craters never mind being spice island..

Same as Dar I can't tell you how many times I had my Nissan jeep stuck in some of the worst potholes you can experience.....when the rains came.. oh pandimonium

The flashing of head lights during the day denotes, "Is there a police road block ahead." If the other's head lights flash back, it means start reaching in your shirt pocket for some notes, and hiding the big notes in your pants pocket.

Drining in Kenya is like nothing else on this planet! it must be the only place where you must drive aggressively defensive!! If you can drive through Mombasa, you can drive anywhere!

Threadr, driving in from Zaire once you crossed the Kasumbulesa border Zambia every time you came to a new town, there were the roadblocks, the military had their little huts and would stop you each and everytime.. I recall once being stopped 4xs one morning driving to Lusaka. these guys would make open up your luggage or pay them off.. before they let you cross. you had to hide your Kwachas if you had them or dollars. some were miserable...

I recall seeing a very busy crossroads in Eldoret where cars would be turning in all directions and a driver would take his life in his hands to edge forward, gambling on the hope that no other vehicle will crash into him. When I asked a friend why the traffic lights on this particular crossroads were not switched on he replied that they had been used, but actually caused more accidents ! Totally illogical.

oh I dont know about that! Cairo was pretty bad, Indian cities are just plain crazy, and driving through the Arc de Triopmhe junction in Paris is only for the suicidal.

For me, driving in Paris is worse than driving in Nairobi or Bangkok (Where it is even Chaotic to drive than the former).

In Paris you have to be reall carefull. They drive in a mixed up style of Road rules and Chaos. At least in Nairobi and Bangkok is all Chaos!

Has no one sampled the Italian motorways. Like a sprint race in bumber cars and not at all pleasant!