The bus with beats and bling

0:29This message comes from ID Tech. the world from NPR, the day's most vital international stories up close when they're happening. It's Thursday, May 7th. I'm Christine Arismeth. Walking the streets of Nairobi, Kenya, you may hear the subjects of our story before you see them. Brightly painted minibuses, blasting music through traffic, called matatus. Legally, they're just public transport. But Culturally, there's something much more. Emmanuel Angunza takes us along for a ride. You don't just board an Onyx bus. It swallows you whole. The second you step inside, the sound engulfs you. Gospel, gangatone, afrobeat, all competing at volumes that make conversation pointless.

1:15And today I've scored the front seat, riding for about 30 minutes with Henry Mwindi, the owner, from Nairobi's Central Business District, out to Dandorah in Eastlands. HTV screens flash music videos around the cockpit alone, 16 in total. Blue LEDs chase each other across the ceiling. Every surface is painted. Pictures of footballers, rappers, politicians in wild chromatic detail. I asked Mwindi if 16 screens isn't a little excessive. When you go to a fancy club, how many screens do they have? They have so many screens. Well, they will not have multiple screens. Exactly, multiple screens. So the same thing.

1:54This is a fancy place. This is a fancy vehicle with fancy people. Onyx is new and already the most popular bus on this route. The graffiti, the music, the young crew. Onyx is part of the culture of the Matatu. This culture, it can't be stopped. It's like a wave. This is a season for Onyx. And of course, among many other Mganyans, We call them Mganyas. Mganya is slung for these blinged-out vehicles, privately owned minibuses that operate as public transport. But over the past decade, they've become something else entirely. Moving canvases, mobile sound systems, rolling declarations of what young Nairobi finds cool right now.

2:39I ask Mwindi what makes one matatu stand out from another. He lands on a metaphor that says as much about him as it does about the matatus. It's like a woman who has done very nice make-ups on herself. Obviously, you'll identify her. You'll be able to point out at her in town, all right? Compared to a woman who is just, you know, a lady who is just there. And no make-ups, no nothing. Our driver today on the morning shift is Dennis Kimani. Chains around his neck, music in his bones. He tells me the playlist follows a strict schedule. From 6am to 7 or 8, that's gospel. Oh, you play gospel? Yeah.

3:23Every day. From 8 to 10, R &B. Old school R &B. From 10 to 12, old school hip-hop. From 12, trap. Kimania justice chains and laughs. To drive Anganya, you have to match the energy of the bus. When you're a Nganya driver, you have to look like that Nganya. Nganya is clean, is hyped up. So you have to be clean, you have to be hyped up, happy. Like, you have to be jovial. Yeah. Yeah, you're getting me. A certain style. We roll into Dandora, kids lying the road, shouting as the baze spills into the street. In a city that can feel chaotic, unequal, exhausting, these vehicles hit like a huge jolt of voltage.

4:10like resistance to boredom, like youth insisting on being seen and heard. Henry leans towards me over the music. If you have not experienced the Matatu culture, that is the Nganya culture, then you should never say that you are in Nairobi. The light changes. Kimani eases forward. The bass throbs again. Riding one isn't just commuting. It's like being inside the city's pearls. For NPR News, I'm Imona Ligunza in Nairobi.

4:46That's the State of the World from NPR. Thanks for listening.

5:08part of the NPR network. Listen now wherever you get your podcasts.