Ushaikwama kwa traffic mpaka unafeel kushuka ukimbie? (Ever been stuck in traffic so bad you feel like just alighting and running to your destination?) Then, just as you are calculating how many minutes it would take on foot, a boda boda rider swoops past, navigating between buses, trying to dodge mirrors, carrying their passengers like traffic rules don’t apply. And suddenly, you are there thinking, “Eh, I should have just taken a boda.”
Boda boda riders in Nairobi offer convenience like no other. But behind every boda is a story, sometimes hilarious and sometimes heartbreaking. Today, we meet two riders: one who’s made bodas his big hustle and another who stumbled into the business almost by accident.
Meet James: A boda boda Owner
James, 32, starts his day at 5:30 am. By sunrise, he’s already at his boda stage in South B, helmet polished, bike fueled, and ready for the grind.
“Boda is not just riding,” he tells me with a grin. “It’s project management, traffic control, and sometimes counseling.”
James laughs easily, but his job is no joke. On a good day, he makes about KSh 2,500 (roughly 20 USD). That is enough to cover fuel, a daily bike loan repayment, his merry-go-round payment, and still take something home for his wife and two kids. But on bad days, like when fuel prices spike or city council officers clamp down, he barely scrapes KSh 1,000 (8 USD).
What keeps him going? The passengers.
“One time a tourist from Germany asked me to take him on a ‘real Nairobi adventure,’” James recalls. “We went from Kibera to Ngong Hills, then to Nairobi CBD, and finally to Gikomba for shopping. The guy paid me triple and said it was the best day of his trip. That is the beauty of bodas, you don’t just carry people, you carry their experiences and stories as well.”
But there are also nightmare rides. James has ferried drunk passengers who can’t balance, lovers who argue the whole way, and once, on Christmas Eve, a live goat. “The goat behaved better than some humans,” he jokes.
James peppers his speech with sheng. “Unajua hii hustle ni ngumu, boss. Kuna siku unafanya unapata madoh, kuna siku hakuna. Lakini lazima uendelee kuskuma.” (“This hustle is tough, boss. Some days you make money, some days you don’t. But you have to keep pushing.”)
Still, for James, boda riding is more than survival. He dreams of owning a fleet of motorbikes one day, renting them out to other riders. “This bike is my office,” he says confidently. “And one day, I will be the boss.”
Meet Wanjiku: The Accidental Rider
If James is the seasoned hustler, Wanjiku, 27, is the rebel with a cause. She never planned to be a boda rider. In fact, she studied hospitality in college. But after struggling to find a job, she borrowed her cousin’s bike during the pandemic just to make ends meet. Three years later, she is still riding and breaking stereotypes.
“People see a woman rider and think it is a joke,” she says, adjusting her pink helmet. “But after five minutes on the bike, they realize I mean business. Sometimes I am even more careful than the men.”
Her passengers are often surprised, especially first-timers. “There was this guy who refused to get on when he saw me. He said, ‘Ati a lady rider? I’ll die!’ ” Wanjiku laughs. “I told him, brother, you are more likely to die of stress than of my riding. By the end, he tipped me.”
For her, the job isn’t just about money, though she clears around KSh 1,800 (14 USD) on most days. It is also about independence. She pays her rent, supports her younger brother’s school fees, and has even saved enough to buy her own motorbike.
But Wanjiku admits it’s not all smooth riding. Some male riders harass her, passengers sometimes doubt her skills, and the roads are as risky as ever. Yet she stays on. “Nikishika hii bike, najua hii life niko tu sawa,” she says. (“When I grip this bike, I know I am set in life.”)
The Bigger Picture
Listening to James and Wanjiku, it is clear that boda bodas are more than just transport. They are a lifeline in Kenya’s cities. They move workers to their jobs, children to school, and tourists to hidden corners that are not covered by guidebooks.
At the same time, bodas carry Kenya’s contradictions: they create jobs but also chaos; they empower riders but sometimes endanger them; they represent hustle but also highlight the gaps in our transport system.
What struck me most, though, is how personal the boda world is. James sees it as his empire-in-the-making. Wanjiku sees it as her independence. And for the millions of Kenyans who ride with them daily, bodas are simply a means of survival on two wheels.
What’s Next in the Diaries
In the coming weeks, we will explore safety tips, look into how bodas are shaping Kenya’s transport future and even hear from tourists who have braved the rides.
But for now, next time you hop onto a boda and the rider calls out, “Madam, twende?” (“Madam, shall we go?”), remember this: they are not just navigating potholes and traffic, they are navigating life itself.
Want more stories from Nairobi’s streets? Keep checking Visit Nairobi Kenya to explore the people, places, and everyday hustles that keep the city moving. Got a unique Nairobi experience or story to share? Reach out to us today and get featured on our platform.