Even the dead travel by bike

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The bicycle reigns supreme in rural Kenya, where roads are bad to non-existent, and two wheeled vehciles are used to carry goods, transport the mayor ... and to take coffins for burial.

WILLIAM ONYANGO reports from Siaya, Kenya
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THE bicycle reigns supreme in this rural town in south-western Kenya, performing much the same functions as cars and trucks in larger cities.
Youths carry passengers and goods on bikes. Boys as young as eight can be seen riding through the streets with two or three 20-litre jerrycans of water hanging to their bicycles. The mayor and town clerk cycle to work. Old women pedal along in the hot sun. And sometimes coffins are ferried from the district mortuary to burial grounds on bicycles.

The importance of the two-wheeled vehicles -- which are even used as collateral when people borrow from neighbours or friends -- is linked to the fact that few people here can afford cars and, moreover, only part of the main road in Siaya -- population 80,000 -- is tarred.

The feeder roads, all made of earth, are rough and, in the wet season, muddy. Car owners prefer not to use their vehicles when it rains, while the 'matatus' (minibuses) that ply the 74-km tarred route between Siaya and the town of Kisumu on the shores of Lake Victoria are hardly ever seen on the side roads.

This led a group of youths, now organised in the Siaya Bicycle Transporters Association, to venture into the business of bicycle taxis -- called 'border border' here because they first became popular in Busia, a town on the border with Uganda.

The border-border have been a boon to commuters such as junior public servant Jane Akinyi, who works in Siaya, but lives in Ndere, six kilometres away.

''I today save a lot of money since the bicycle hire services started in Siaya because I used to spend Kshs 80 daily on matatus, which are very few and unreliable time wise,'' she says. ''But on bicycle, I now pay 40 Kshs daily to and fro and they are readily available. And I no longer get to the office late.''

Joseph Odiyo, an employee of the state-run Siaya District Hospital, is also happy that the bicycle taxis are around. ''On this route (between Siaya and Ndere), travellers waiting for matatus may wait as long as three to six hours before seeing the next matatu,'' he explains.

Ferrying passengers and goods on their bikes now provides a livelihood for many previously jobless youths in Siaya, some of whom earn as much as 6,000 Kenyan shillings (Kshs) -- roughly US$115 -- a month.

''Six thousand shillings may be a small sum of money to a sophisticated youth in Nairobi given Kenya's high cost of living,'' says Siaya-based primary school teacher Francis Kut. ''But that is not a small sum of money for a school dropout in a rural town who has never held any paying job.''

''Compare that with what a Kenyan police recruit ..., trained to protect citizens and their property, earns: a mere 2,000 Kshs net per month,'' he adds. ''Or compare it to a trained primary school teacher who spends two years at a teacher training college only to end up taking home Kshs 3,000 per month.''

About 200 'border-border' riders are members of the Siaya Bicycle Transporters Association, which is registered with the Department of Culture and Social Services. The association is chaired by Omondi Okoth, who owns a cycle repair shop on the Siaya-Ndere road.

''A member must own a bicycle,'' explains Okoth. ''He or she then pays a Kshs 100 non-refundable registration fee and undertakes to remit Kshs 5 to the association every evening.

''With the money collected, we shall one day be able to give members loans to buy more bicycles,'' adds Okoth. ''The money may also help members during emergencies.''

Most of the association's members are teenagers and people in their 20s -- the youngest is 13. However, the independence that comes with the bicycle profession has also attracted older people, such as 30-year-old Michael Oduor.

He used to be a matatu tout -- one of the army of young men who assist minibus drivers -- but decided to become a cycle transporter because it offered him a chance to be his own boss. ''As a matatu tout I was restricted because the job was not mine,'' he says. ''Now I can control my time.''

But the job has its risks, too. The association's vice-chairman Oluoch Mbeya broke an arm and a leg when his cycle plunged into a ditch in October last. However, he is determined to continue. His accident worries him less than the fact that some transporters have reportedly taken to robbing people.

''What we need is proper identification, especially uniforms,'' he says. ''Some cyclists posing as our members may tarnish our names when they start mugging travellers, as is already happening according to reports I have received.''

Oduor, for his part, feels something should be done about the roads in the area. ''The government should improve these roads because during rainy seasons they are so muddy, making it almost impossible for us to ride, thus forcing us to make very few rounds,'' he tells IPS.

''Don't say that,'' Joseph Juma, one of his colleagues, warns him. ''The government may accuse us of bringing politics into our business. You know Siaya is considered an opposition stronghold and the government is reluctant to develop it Besides, if the roads are improved, big fish with their fleets of matatus would hijack the business and then where will we be?''

( --IPS/Misa April 10, 1997)

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