Man and machine.

Most of you folks out there taking the detour through worldbike.org have one interest in common. Bikes! So let's talk about them. I've been gathering my observations over my first three weeks here in Kenya. This entry is intended to be an introduction to the Kenyan cycling scene.

I've never seen anyone dressed quite like the fellow on the left but the way he's employing his bicycle is quite common. Humorously he was in a bit of a hurry to get to the market and though being quite friendly never broke stride except for this one moment when I snapped his picture. When I stopped to dig in my bag to get out pictures and then again for my camera he kept jetting ahead. I would come scooting up beside him holding my bike in one hand, pictures of Worldbike's past work in the other, dodging traffic, and trying to communicate in my very broken Swahili. Thankfully I wasn't chewing gum at the time or I probably would have ended up on the pavement tangled in my bike while he soared off obliviously to that place that was drawing him so urgently.

The bike that he's pushing is commonly called a Black Mamba in Kenya. That's in reference to both its color (always black) and its reputation for safety. Despite quite a variety of makers, they all look almost alike and have been made in India and China since the world began. These are the same bikes as China's quintessential Flying Pigeon (I don't know what other types of pigeon there are) bicycles. They are lugged framed single-speeds with cottered cranks, rod brakes, 28” wheels, a big centerstand kickstand, and fenders (this is 1930s technology). They often have double top tubes and are retrofitted domestically with a brace (of questionable effectiveness) on the front fork and a wide rear rack. They cost between $40 and $90 and typically must be immediately taken to a mechanic after purchase so that they can be reassembled “properly”. Most mechanics work on the ground with a tool box or sack full of broken bits and pieces of bikes and some exceptionally shoddy tools. The tools of choice are a hammer, a piece of railroad rail used as an anvil, and pliers. Incredible things are done with these implements with my favorite undoubtedly being the breaking and reassembling a chain using a nail as the driving pin. I could never be so deft.

Despite their similar appearances, the black mambas are different. Brand names like Neelam, made by the Indian company Seth Industries, are accompanied by the sub-titles “Super Strong” or “Heavy Duty”. These aren't just marketing hype, the bikes indeed are stronger and that is a result of the thicker walled tubes in the frame and fork construction. Wheels also are made to varying degrees of super-strongness with varying rim weights and spoke counts. The brand Raja is the cheapest and considered bottom of the barrel in terms of strength. Given the strength to weight ratio of these bikes in general, my impression is that the steel used in their construction is pretty low-grade (I'm thinking maybe from minimally-refined melted scrap). My other impression is that the motivation to continue producing these bikes is that the production facilities were paid off long ago and the marginal cost of their manufacture is next to nothing. Without anyone making any serious marketing push for a more modern bicycle, these bikes are enjoying both a default appeal and a very well established distribution network.

That being said, the mountain bike is making inroads. There are many more on the roads in Nairobi than there were when I was here even two years ago. Unfortunately, the venerable mountain bike (highly appropriate technology for the terrain) is receiving Walmart style treatment. Here are mountain bikes at Kenya's Walmart on steroids, Nakumatt (formerly Nakuru Mattress). The bikes are cheap (which is inevitable) but more importantly, like Walmart bikes, are poorly assembled and maintained. Decent tools and quality parts are not available. The result, I fear, is that a machine with great promise is never achieving its potential. What that means for its reputation over the coming years, I don't know.

Culturally, the bicycle is considered outdated and backwards technology used only by those who can't afford better. This of course creates an ironic and frustrating duality as 1) parts of the developed world back-pedal away from the automobile and awaken to the wonderful transformative power bicycles have on city spaces and life quality and 2) parts of the developing world make irreversible infrastructure decisions that exclude bicycles and alienate public transit (check out www.itdp.com and Bogotá, Columbia www.ebbc.org/?q=node/1218). All is not lost in Kenya though as an excellent opportunity for global cycling solidarity presents itself. I've been told by a (highly-biased) source that some members of the Nairobi middle-class are going through that traffic congestion induced metamorphosis and seeing bicycles as a choice mode of transport and exercise. I've also been told that for the first time a few members of the government are paying attention to bicycles for transportation. The biggest hurdle though is the extremely strong perception that bicycles are very dangerous. I suspect that this is true for the passive cyclist (the one who expects traffic to play the active role in avoiding collisions) as the congestion creates quite a competitive atmosphere. Personally, as an “active” cyclist (someone who rides like a kayaker, thriving on a kinetic and unpredictable travel corridor) Nairobi traffic is incredibly fun and non-threatening. The drivers are very alert and responsive (and generally not moving). There certainly are no bike lanes so cycling is best done amongst the vehicles instead of pinched on the shoulders.

Kenyan cycling doesn't have is a voice and a presence: what I see as the two arms of the cycling movement in the U.S. There are no Kenyan critical masses or messenger traffic thrashers or versions of the Thunderhead Alliance or League of American Bicyclists. From my observation, cyclists here have complaints but they don't have a cause. But they could... I sense simmering potential. The beauty of the cyclist personality is that it is sculpted by adversity. Cyclists are an ambitious, go against the tide, idealistic, forthright bunch. They are always ready to boil over given the chance. Here are my friends Lemash who deals in second-hand bikes and Toto who is currently organizing a Nairobi to Mombasa ride to raise money to purchase books. They are members of the underground Nairobi club cycling scene and will talk your ear off. Another friend, George (not pictured), is a 30-year veteran of Kenyan cycling, raced pro in Europe, coaches and promotes youth cycling, knows well the corruption that hobbles pro cycling in Kenya, is your man for rickshaws, ... The way everyone talks, they're all ready to be part of a movement, they just need a little bit of solidarity with the international cycling community to know the power of what they have to say. Let this be my invitation to the media to come here and cover the budding Kenyan cycling scene. It's a fascinating untold story.

But back to the bikes. If you want to buy a quality new bike in Kenya I know of only two places. They are both owned by Indians (the people with the import connections) and both are ungodly expensive. The real option are second-hand bikes. These are machines that are gleaned from scrap yards and landfills in the developed world and sent abroad. It sounds like a fantastic academic research project following this commodity chain. The explanation given to me is that brokers set up relationships with developed world discard points, pay some nominal fee per bike, put them all in a container and then, just like used clothes that are sold by the bale, sell the full container to another broker abroad. These bikes are then parted out to smaller dealers like Lemash. Right now the bikes in Kenya mostly come from landlocked Uganda (go figure). Looking at Lemash's stock it's pretty clear that these are bikes that were designated “not worth the money to fix” in their country of origin. They're good bikes but they need the serious work that his very talented fundi (employed mechanic) Vincent is busy applying to them. However, without spare parts available, there is often an inevitable “good enough” threshold that can't be overcome. Additionally, without tools available, Vincent is left with a toolbox only slightly surpassing the one described above.