Chaos on the road invites the government to regulate itself

A country’s behaviour on its roads says a lot about the people. The emerging tug-of-war between matatu transport sector and the erratic motorbike system speaks to a bigger infrastructural cultural definition of who Kenyans are.  

A section of the matatu industry is protesting runaway motorbike chaos. Yet is this the perfect case of the pot calling the kettle black?

The matatu on the Kenya road is a menace. It is mayhem on wheels. It has zero regard for anybody. It rules the highways oppressively. Matatus will rudely push you out of your lane. They will blast off your eardrums with the deafening noise that they call music.  

They will cut in ruthlessly, and stop abruptly, often in the middle of the road. They will overtake you, only to stop instantly in front of you. They will bash your vehicle and drive on. The touts will swing in the doorway in the style of bipedal Australopithecus Africanus! They really don’t care who you are, or what you think about them. They seem to be dead inside. 

Yet they are not alone. In a sense, Kenyan roads behave like the pre Stone Age populations that Thomas Hobbes wrote about in the 17th Century. They aggressively grab space in uncivilised environments.

They cast us seven million years behind in humanoid evolution. For, what you see on Kenyan roads belongs to an age before civilisation of humankind. Traffic lights mean nothing. Motorists treat pedestrians like bad rubbish. 

Pedestrians themselves don’t respect or use crossing points. Drunk drivers overspeed. They hoot for no reason. They concurrently drive, speak on cell phones and send text messages. The roads are a rich mix of domestic animals, dead dogs and cats, burst sewers, handcarts, bicycles, motorbikes, lorries, pedestrians and more. They all strive for the same space. It is the ultimate all-against-all warfare.  

It is a truly sorry story. Yet, it is dangerous, and even lazy, to essentialise this absurdity as the definition of the Kenyan character. Do we need to dig deeper for meaning in this chaos?  

Good behaviour among strangers rests on trust. Motorists are likely to be courteous because they trust other road users. You see, there are consequences on the choices we make. If I wait at the traffic light, it is because I trust others to wait, too, when their turn comes. I also know the system will punish those who break the rules. But what do I do if everyone cuts in, overtakes dangerously, hoards space, or brings their cows into the streets?  

What sociologists call defensive individualism sets in. Hence, fellows who are otherwise decent in other environments do ridiculous things on the road. They are simply claiming space in crowded environments where systems have failed. Regulations mean nothing to them. Survival is all that counts.   

Boundaries on the roads are blurred. They speak of failed regulators. Think of this; animals on highways, vendors on roads, goods laid out right onto the road! Hijacked sidewalks, on which the pedestrian could be knocked down any minute, a dead dog in the same neighbourhood! These absurdities speak to an indifferent, predatory, and arbitrary state. 

Look, rules and regulations only make sense where there is both reward and punishment. The motorbike dysfunction in Kenya did not happen overnight. It has evolved overtime, like cancer, because nobody punishes reprobates. In the end, they are now above the law. They ride against every traffic rule as the police helplessly look on. And each day, a few more bikes arrive. Lawlessness grows a little more.  

If we must typify and essentialise the character of the problem, it is dud leadership. Our politics are noisy and aggressive. Everything else picks up the cue.

If things ever change, they will not do so because the people have suddenly become “civilised.” They will change because systems are eventually working and worthy of obedience. The same chaotic Kenyans on the roads get orderly at the airport. Why? 

An efficient state whose work speaks louder than ten political rallies is what Kenya needs. A mad infrastructural culture, such as Kenya’s, does not change because the people have become better.

No, people become better because the systems finally make it good to be sensible. Who wants to be good when goodness punishes him?  

The bad news is that our roads are not going to be sober shared spaces without the government earning the people’s trust. Fairness, care and consistency on the part of the government is the key. The matatu industry is inviting the government to regulate itself, and regulate us all too. 

-Dr Muluka is a strategic communications adviser.