When her three children didn’t have enough to eat, Monica Atieno decided to apply for a job through a new program that was recruiting women to become motorcycle taxi drivers — a profession long dominated by men.
At first, she kept her plan a secret from her husband, who was himself a motorcycle taxi driver in their town of Ukwala in western Kenya. When he found out, he was furious and threatened to leave. But Ms. Atieno, who is 29, says she told him: “I’m going to do it, because I know what I’m going to achieve.”
Last year, after hundreds of hours of training, she became a motorcycle taxi driver — a “Boda Girl,” as they’re called. She’s now one of only about 1,000 women among the estimated 2.5 million motorcycle taxi drivers in the east African nation of Kenya, according to the Boda Boda Safety Association, an advocacy group.
The road to success has been full of obstacles. Many of the women who signed up, like Ms. Atieno, had never before driven a motorbike, let alone a car. They have faced harassment from passengers and fellow drivers. Their husbands voiced disapproval.
The women received training in essential skills like self-defense and mechanics. Now, many say they have begun to earn incomes and independence, discovered new strengths and, in some cases, started to support their entire families — accomplishments they once thought impossible.
“When I joined Boda Girls, my life changed completely,” said Lilian Rehema, 33, one of the first women motorcycle taxi drivers in her area. “My kids can dress nicely. They can get food every day.”
The program started when Dan Ogola, who had helped found the local Matibabu Hospital two decades ago, noticed that women were regularly coming to the hospital in search of work — whether as cooks, cleaners or receptionists.
The hospital was one of the largest employers in Siaya County, where one million residents live mostly in villages and small towns connected by red soil roads that wind through flat plains and rolling hills. Many people make a living by farming maize, cassava or sweet potatoes. Others fish in Lake Victoria, Africa’s largest lake. Jobs are scarce, especially for women.
At the same time, Mr. Ogola noticed a troubling pattern: When these same women became patients, they couldn’t afford transportation to the hospital for medical checkups. Many had to walk up to two hours, even when pregnant, to reach the hospital. Some ended up giving birth en route.
So, with the support of an American charity, the Tiba Foundation, which also helps fund the hospital, he hired a driving school to train women motorcycle taxi drivers. In April 2022 he recruited 10 women from nearby villages — the first cohort of “Boda Girls.”
“We kill poverty by creating jobs for them,” he said, “and they bring people to us and make health services accessible to women.”
After Ms. Rehema’s husband died, she and her four children could no longer survive on money from growing kale on her small farm. On the verge of losing her home, she was forced to beg for money. After years of struggle, she came across Matibabu hospital’s surprising job opportunity when she went there hoping to find work as a cook.
She had never before heard of women driving boda-bodas, as the two-wheeled taxis are called.
Boda-bodas originated in the 1960s when riders along the border between Kenya and Uganda would shout “border to border” to attract customers, according to researchers. What started as bicycle taxis eventually transformed into motorcycle taxis — often cheap, imported bikes from India. Boda-bodas became one of Kenya’s major economic forces.
“I didn’t know how to ride, but I could learn,” Ms. Rehema said.
With time and persistence, she mastered the skills to navigate the region’s unpredictable dirt roads: hitting the brakes just before turns and leaning into corners while keeping steady. She learned how to change engine oil in inconvenient conditions.
Two years ago, she became one of the first female drivers in her area. Now, she rushes expectant mothers to deliver their babies in the hospital, and transports women and their babies to checkups. When she arrives at the hospital, she greets everyone with warm smiles, kisses babies and shakes hands like a beloved local politician.
The “Boda Girls” program was an instant hit, inspiring others.
Each morning, Lucy Odele marveled at the confidence of the Boda Girls zooming past her house. Ms. Odele had had polio as a child, leaving her with a limp in her right leg and making it hard for her to stand for long. It also made finding work even more difficult. Living as a single mother with her parent, Ms. Odele, 38, longed for independence. She applied to the program, and joined 13 other women in May 2023 as part of the second cohort.
But Ms. Odele said she had initially struggled, finding it hard to swing her leg over the bike. “I used to cry. I would see others make progress, while I stayed where I was,” she said.
Refusing to give up, the program found her a solution: a smaller scooter that she could more easily mount. At night, she wheels it carefully into her cramped house, positioning it next to her sofa like a trusted friend.
“I know what it’s like, walking long distances to clinics,” she said. “I don’t want anybody to suffer the way I suffered.”
The program has now trained 51 women. In the early morning light, they can be seen on their colorful bikes with bright pink seats — a mark of their trainee status. When they graduate, they are given purple leather seats, each displaying the hand-stitched Boda Girls logo.
Last summer, when Violet Onyango was in labor, her family couldn’t afford the fare to transport her to the hospital, and the baby’s father refused to help. So she called one of the Boda Girls who had already driven her to multiple checkups, who gently transported her for free to the hospital to safely deliver her baby girl.
Afterward, Ms. Onyango, an avid soccer player, said of her baby, “I want her to go to school, get an education and become a footballer like me.”
Many male boda-boda drivers believe that women are taking their jobs.
“Before the Boda Girls arrived, I was doing well, but things changed,” said Frederic Owino, a longtime boda-boda driver in the county. “Since they came, my work has decreased.”
Kevin Mubadi, chairman of the Boda Boda Safety Association of Kenya, which supports inclusion for women drivers, said, “Some passengers still find it strange for women to ride boda-bodas.”
He added that women also often experience “sexual harassment from male clients.”
To protect themselves, the Boda Girls learn self-defense. Trainers teach them to stop the bike if a passenger is inappropriate, firmly assert the rules and take a defensive stance — arms extended, palms out, ready to kick if threatened.
The Boda Girls have gone on to share these skills with girls in nearby schools.
The landscape is slowly changing, with more women joining the industry not just as drivers, but also as engineers and mechanics — changing mind-sets all around them.
Ms. Atieno’s once-skeptical husband, who had threatened to leave when she first enrolled in the program, changed his mind after a month when he saw that she was already earning double what he made. With her Boda Girl earnings, she bought a cow and several pigs, and expanded into other ventures like making soap and tailoring.
One morning in July, she carried two of their children to school on the back of her purple motorbike. Her husband hopped on too, so he could attend a parent-teacher meeting. After dropping them at school, Ms. Atieno rode on — off to work.
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