We’re at the mercy of reckless matatu drivers and boda bodas

We are still angry about the Ongata Rongai matatu accident that killed four people last Sunday. That accident was unnecessary and, according to eyewitnesses, would not have happened had the driver not been driving like a maniac.

Every time a road accident happens, the reason that is often given is speeding. I think this anger that Kenyans are feeling over this accident is borne out of the frustration and the lethargy that comes with hearing the same story over and over again, and having to put up with something unpleasant, no, deadly, that seems to have no solution.

Matatu drivers are notorious for speeding. Since they cannot be trusted to obey the recommended speed limits, the government ordered them to install speed governors, which, of course, did nothing to reduce the deaths on our roads because they don’t work. I mean, take a look at how matatus hurtle down the road, as if they’re going to put out a fire. Pray, who has a solution for this recklessness which is costing us many lives daily?

If the cause of the accidents is not speeding, then it is drink driving, if not drink driving, then the driver was either overtaking or avoiding a pothole.

We have identified the causes, so what we now need are workable and effective solutions that will make our roads safer. Protesting, blocking roads and walking to work will draw attention to this cancer, but that is it. The solution does not lie in any of these three actions. Not by a long shot.

PLAYGROUND BULLIES

There is another catastrophe we need to talk about, a catastrophe that will get worse if we continue to ignore it. Motorcycles.

Nowadays I cross the road with trepidation because at any point while making those few steps to the other side, a boda boda might appear out of nowhere, from whatever direction, and send me to my maker. In primary school, I was taught to look right, left, and then right again before crossing the road.

Unfortunately, if you follow these instructions today, you will only get yourself killed. To survive in this city, or wherever you are since boda bodas seem to be everywhere, you need two heads — one permanently looking right, and the other looking left.

Sometimes I even find myself looking at the sky before crossing the road because, from what I have seen, these things can materialise from anywhere. They sneer at traffic rules, which they break with impunity, right under the eyes of traffic police and the ruthless kanjo officers.

I once witnessed an accident between a boda boda and a private car — the boda boda driver was in the wrong, but within seconds of the accident, about a thousand boda bodas had arrived, heckling the poor driver, determined to intimidate him. These chaps are worse than playground bullies.

If you thought matatu drivers operate with impunity, you should see boda boda drivers in action. Other road users are invisible to them — they drive on the wrong side, jump traffic lights and even consider pavements their domain.

I once made the mistake of boarding one. By the time I mercifully got to my destination, I felt like battered walking jelly.

At some point I was almost thrown off, and when I implored the man to slow down, he rudely told me, “Madam, ukitaka unaweza tembea …” (he suggested that I walk instead.)

When I alighted, I went down on my knees right there and thanked my God in heaven for saving my life. For how long will we be held hostage by these suicidal people?