Nairobi, Kenya is one of the few places on earth where I feel comfortable and probably put my life in harm’s way by taking a motorbike on the highway. They’re faster because the roads in nairobi are quite narrow and a huge plus — they’re regulated (don’t know to what extent, but riders usually have a license and wear safety gear). I’d never do this in my hometown of Port Harcourt1.
As a habit i don’t book a bike on hailing apps, instead I find the closest stage on the street corner, look each and every one in the eyes, and take the one that seems older mid 30s or 40s somewhere (a bit of grey hair helps). 2
To deviate a bit, isn’t it funny that hailing apps take some agency away from you? If the rider arrives and maybe there’s no side mirror or extra helmets. What will you do? be an asshole after booking him and making him ride all the way?
Now an older man is more likely to have children, more responsibilities and more people expecting him to come home. I want to get home safely and he does too, risk is shared and our incentives are aligned
To explain a bit more, the rider cannot take a stupid risk with my life without taking essentially the same with his own. We’re sitting on the same bike, if he recklessly squeezes between two trucks, or takes a corner there isn’t much separation between what happens to me and what happens to him. I’m not depending entirely on his kindness or professionalism, i’m depending partly on his will to self-preservation. And if he has people depending on him, the consequences of not getting home extend beyond himself.
I learnt this heuristic from my dad. Growing up whenever I had to take a bike, my “bikemen”3 were usually older, often with children of their own (I grew up in a small town, everybody knows everybody). My dad would always say take a bike of an older person.
I didn’t understand why, I mean, these old men are slow and drove too carefully for my liking. The younger riders (called “pilots”4) were obviously better. They rode fast, overtook cars, had shiny bikes etc. There was a certain thrill of being on that bike. Why should I voluntarily choose a man riding like he had nowhere urgent to be?
Isn’t it funny and a little poignant, that I now value getting home over getting on the fastest bike? I’ve grown in age and now have responsibilities of my own well not kids, but responsibilities nonetheless.
Footnotes
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It’s just not safe. Riders barely wear helmets, and don’t need a license ↩
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Of course, there are some other checks too (extra helmets, side mirrors, looks okay) that’s common sense. ↩
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“Bikeman” is common Nigerian usage for a commercial motorbike rider that takes children to and fro school, typically in small towns ↩
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If you grew up or lived in South-South Nigeria, you probably know exactly the kind of rider I mean by “pilot.” Young, fast, shiny bike. ↩