Ending the Romance with Chaos: Why Nairobi Must Civilize Its Public Transport

 

Nairobi has reached a quiet but undeniable consensus: the era of lawless matatus must come to an end. For decades, public transport in the capital has operated in a grey zone—half essential service, half organized chaos. While matatus have played a critical role in moving millions of people daily, the cost of tolerating disorder, recklessness, and impunity has grown too high. Order and civility in public transport are no longer optional aspirations; they are necessary conditions for a functional city.

Matatu chaos is often defended as “culture” or “hustle,” but this framing has outlived its usefulness. Speeding, overlapping, blasting music at extreme volumes, intimidation of passengers, bribery of traffic police, and open disregard for traffic rules are not cultural expressions—they are failures of regulation and enforcement. A city cannot modernize while normalizing danger as entertainment and indiscipline as identity. Nairobi’s roads are not a theatre for adrenaline; they are public spaces where safety and dignity should be guaranteed.

The human cost of lawless public transport is staggering. Every year, families lose loved ones to avoidable road accidents caused by reckless driving. Pedestrians are mowed down, passengers are injured, and commuters live with daily anxiety simply trying to get to work or school. The economic cost is equally severe: lost productivity due to accidents, congestion caused by indiscipline, and healthcare expenses borne by victims rather than perpetrators. When public transport is chaotic, everyone pays—even those who never step into a matatu.

There is also a deeper issue of governance at play. The matatu industry has long been a mirror of Kenya’s broader struggle with the rule of law. Regulations exist, but enforcement is selective. Standards are announced, then quietly abandoned. Crackdowns come and go, often collapsing under corruption, political pressure, or fear of backlash. This cycle has taught operators one lesson: rules are negotiable. As long as that perception persists, no meaningful reform will take root.

Yet Nairobi is not asking for the impossible. Cities across the world—including those with informal transport histories similar to ours—have successfully transitioned to orderly systems. The common ingredients are clear rules, consistent enforcement, professionalization of operators, and political will. What has been missing in Nairobi is not knowledge, but courage: the courage to prioritize public interest over short-term appeasement and entrenched cartels.

Order does not mean killing livelihoods. This is a critical point. Matatus employ thousands of drivers, conductors, mechanics, artists, and support workers. Reform must protect jobs while demanding standards. Professional training for drivers, fixed routes and schedules, enforceable speed limits, noise regulations, and clear accountability structures do not destroy employment—they dignify it. A driver who operates in a regulated system with predictable income and reduced harassment from police is not worse off; they are better off.

Civility in public transport is also about respect for passengers. No commuter should be forced to endure verbal abuse, sexual harassment, deafening music, or unsafe driving simply because they lack alternative transport. Public transport is a public service. That status carries obligations. Just as hospitals must meet health standards and schools must meet education standards, transport providers must meet safety and conduct standards. Anything less is state-sanctioned neglect.

There is a generational shift happening as well. Younger Nairobians are increasingly rejecting chaos as normal. They want predictable travel times, clean vehicles, digital payments, and accountability. They are comparing Nairobi not just to its past, but to other global cities. This shift matters because it signals that public tolerance for disorder is wearing thin. What was once endured is now questioned. What was once romanticized is now seen as exhausting.

Technology offers an opportunity to support reform, but it cannot replace enforcement. Digital fare systems, vehicle tracking, and route management can improve transparency, but without consequences for violations, they become cosmetic. The heart of the issue remains political: will the state consistently enforce rules, even when it is uncomfortable? Will it dismantle protection networks that shield rogue operators? Will it resist framing discipline as oppression?

The argument that “order kills creativity” is a false one. Nairobi’s vibrancy does not come from recklessness; it comes from its people. Art, music, and self-expression can thrive without endangering lives. A city can be lively and lawful at the same time. In fact, true creativity flourishes best in environments where people feel safe enough to participate fully in public life.

Ending lawless matatus is also about urban planning and equality. Disorder disproportionately harms the poor, who rely most on public transport and live in areas with the least infrastructure. Wealthier citizens can opt out—using private cars, ride-hailing services, or living closer to work. Reforming public transport is therefore not elitist; it is a pro-poor intervention. It says that safety and dignity are not privileges reserved for those who can afford alternatives.

Nairobi stands at a crossroads. It can continue managing chaos, issuing temporary crackdowns and press statements while nothing fundamentally changes. Or it can commit to a long, difficult, but necessary transition toward order. This will require sustained enforcement, institutional integrity, and public communication that explains why reform matters. It will also require resisting nostalgia for a disorder that has cost too much.

The era of lawless matatus should indeed come to a close—not because Nairobi wants to become sterile, but because it wants to become humane. Order and civility in public transport are not signs of oppression; they are signs of respect for life. And a city that respects life is a city worth living in.