In the eyes of the public: the Matatu Industry

Have you ever wondered what the day to day operations of a matatu vehicle is like?

The new anchor begins the segment with “they have been vilified either with good reasons or maybe even because of the stereotypes, these are the matatu touts: the men we love to hate.” This brief feature into how a matatu on how a tout’s job plays a function into the overall operations of a matatu and addresses the current day negative perceptions of matatu operators as well. KTN New Kenya follows the day in the life of a matatu tout, showcasing how his work is how he supports his family, as well saving his earnings to “graduate from being a tout to a matatu driver.” By allowing viewers to see the matatu tout in the context of his family and goals, the video effectively humanizes the tout, and part of the matatu industry as a whole, to the audience.

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Public perception of matatus have shifted alongside the matatu’s legal status. Pre-1980s, organizations that allowed for legal representation of matatu owners, such as the Matatu Owner Vehicle associations, maintained order. When President Kenyatta exempted matatus from the requirements of a public service vehicle license (PSV) in 1973, it played a crucial role in signaling to the public that matatus were a legitimate business venture despite the KBS’s legal monopoly over licensed vehicles. Newly equipped with Kenyatta’s government tacit approval, a more positive public perception of matatus soon followed. Despite passenger accounts of reckless driving in vehicles [Mutongi 553] employed beyond their suggested life, pre-1980s perceptions of the matatu industry were cautiously optimistic: “[matatu] owners, who were often drivers [pre-1980s], were heralded as enterprising, hard-working citizens, imbued with the spirit of Harambee, the spirit of cooperation and of the desire to develop the new nation of Kenya” [Mutongi 551]. 

The 1990s and early 2000s would drastically rock this favorable perception as the MVOA and other associations were banned by President Moi. This move left a pressing question in the air: who would control matatu terminals? Who would guard matatu parking lots at night? A massively profitable industry, one that was growing still, had just seen its international regulators dismissed nearly overnight. At the same time, the “1990s also saw a dramatic increase in the national youth population” as well as a rising crime rate in Nairobi [Rasmussen 420]. Some of these youth would turn to Moi’s KANU Youth Wing, an organization interested in benefiting from the matatu industry’s profits [Rasmussen 420]. It would receive favorable treatment when dealing with police and government figures under the Moi regime, but met with tough competition with remaining matatu associations and cartels. The ensuing violence between Moi’s forces, the Mungiki, and other cartels over matatu terminals and routes marred the favorable public perception of matatus into present day. Not only did passenger perception sour, but so did those of foreign investors as “the World Bank and other such lending agencies refused to offer any loans to the government” [Mutongi 556]. Those existing concerns passengers had with matatus were no longer brushed away as entrepreneurial trial and error but highlighted. 

Older vehicles and risky driving crowned matatus with one of the highest rates of accidents: in “Kenya alone, deaths from matatu-related accidents account for nearly 95 per cent of the people who die from car accidents” [Mutongi 550]. Traffic congestion exacerbated by crowding around matatu terminals are cursed by passengers. Not only that, matatu drivers and touts especially developed a reputation for being “recknessless, speeding, and packing in passengers to double and triple normal vehicle capacity” [Mungai and Samper 57].