The recent events in Ruiru have opened a painful wound for many hardworking boda boda riders who now feel betrayed by a system they once trusted. What began as isolated cases of missing motorbikes has exposed what riders believe to be a disturbing pattern involving Jijenge Uwezo Limited, a loan company accused of colluding with thieves to rob them of their livelihoods.
For men and women who depend on their motorbikes to feed their families, the allegations cut deep, not only because of the financial loss but also because of the sense of betrayal by an institution that was supposed to empower them.
Riders from Zimmerman, Kahawa West, and Ruiru shared similar stories that sound like scenes from a bad movie. They would carry passengers who appeared ordinary, only for something strange to happen dizziness, confusion, and blackouts.
When they woke up, their motorbikes were gone. The thefts were reported to the police, but few cases ever made progress.
That was until one of the riders, tracing a faint GPS signal, discovered his missing bike inside the yard of Jijenge Uwezo Limited, the same company that had financed his purchase months earlier.
The discovery set off alarm bells across the region. More riders came forward with the same claim, some saying their bikes had tracking systems that mysteriously stopped working before reappearing at the company’s compound.
By the time word spread, the situation had turned into an explosive confrontation outside the firm’s Ruiru offices. Furious riders surrounded the building, demanding answers and accusing Jijenge Uwezo of working hand in hand with organized thieves.
They said the company’s name, which means “build your ability,” now symbolized betrayal, exploitation, and deceit.
When police arrived to calm the situation, they confirmed multiple reports of missing bikes matching those at the company premises. Sub-county police commander Maina Kibathi ordered all motorcycles on site to be impounded for verification.
Riders were told to present proof of ownership, including logbooks, purchase receipts, or loan papers. While the police investigation continues, many riders are convinced the company is part of a coordinated scheme.
They question how stolen bikes could end up in the hands of a lender that is supposed to operate under strict financial and legal oversight.
Behind the anger lies a deeper frustration with how small borrowers are treated by loan firms that profit from their vulnerability.
Riders say they are trapped in a cycle of high-interest loans, hidden fees, and repossession threats. Some claim that bikes are deliberately targeted for theft when they are close to completing repayment, forcing riders to start over and take new loans.
Jijenge Uwezo Limited has remained silent since the scandal broke, a silence that only fuels suspicion. For the riders, silence is not good enough. They want accountability and justice, not excuses.
Their message is simple, stop preying on the poor. Every stolen bike represents not just a lost asset but a destroyed livelihood.
In Kenya’s informal economy, boda boda work keeps families fed, children in school, and communities moving. Undermining that is an attack on the very backbone of the working class.