By Abdullahi Inuwa
In the heart of Northern Nigeria, Kano State stands as a symbol of culture, commerce, and community. But beneath this vibrant surface, a creeping menace is choking the city’s arteries—the uncontrolled rise of Keke Napep (commercial tricycles). What was once a quick-fix transport solution has mutated into a full-blown urban crisis. Today, Kano’s roads are flooded with thousands of unregistered, unregulated, and largely untrained Keke riders. It’s a ticking time bomb that’s detonating daily in the form of traffic gridlock, safety hazards, rising crime, and an increasingly negative public image.
The explosion of Keke Napep in Kano was neither organic nor accidental. It was born out of necessity—a response to the vacuum created by a collapsing public transport system and the ban on commercial motorcycles (Okada) in many parts of the state due to security concerns.
Unfortunately, the state government failed to anticipate or plan for the resulting vacuum. Instead of introducing a regulatory framework to control the inflow of tricycles, Kano authorities allowed them to multiply unchecked. Now, with estimates suggesting that over 250,000 tricycles ply Kano’s roads daily, the state is facing a monumental transportation disaster.
Unlike Abuja, Lagos, or Kaduna, where tricycle operations are governed by route mapping, licensing, and strict monitoring, Kano offers none of these safeguards. In Kano, anyone with access to a tricycle can hit the road—no training, no license, no background checks, no questions asked.
The result? A city on the brink. Kano’s roads, especially in congested areas like Tarauni, Kofar Nassarawa, Brigade, and Sabon Gari, are teeming with tricycles zig-zagging through traffic without regard for traffic rules or pedestrian safety. Double parking, dangerous overtaking, wrong-way driving, and constant honking have become the new normal.
“It’s like the wild west out there,” said Musa Lawan, a local civil engineer. “Keke riders operate with total impunity. They cause accidents, clog roads, and yet face no repercussions.”
Even the traffic enforcement agency—Kano Road and Traffic Agency (KAROTA)—appears overwhelmed and under-resourced. Officers are rarely seen at key junctions, and where they do appear, enforcement is sporadic at best. Without a centralized data system or operator records, it’s nearly impossible to track offending drivers or penalize repeat violators.
Worse still, the Keke Napep boom has become a tool for rising crime. The anonymity provided by the lack of registration makes tricycles ideal for criminal activities. Reports of mobile phone snatching, bag theft, and even kidnappings involving tricycles are on the rise.
Police officers and local vigilantes have expressed frustration over their inability to trace suspects due to the unregulated nature of the sector. “The tricycle you arrest today might have a different rider tomorrow,” said an officer from the Kano Police Command. “There’s no way to track them. It’s a security nightmare.”
Kano, a state with rich historical heritage and aspirations of becoming a major economic hub in West Africa, is now being described by visitors as chaotic and disorganized. For tourists, investors, and international organizations visiting the city, the traffic condition and disorderly transport system are often cited as the first and most lasting negative impression.
“We came here to explore investment opportunities in textiles,” said an Indian business delegate visiting Kano in July 2025. “But honestly, the first thing that hit us was the noise, the congestion, and the disorder. It doesn’t reflect the image of a serious business destination.”
This damage to Kano’s reputation is more than cosmetic—it threatens the state’s economic development and investor confidence at a time when northern Nigeria desperately needs jobs, infrastructure, and investment.
Kano is not the first Nigerian city to face a transportation challenge. But its unwillingness to learn from others is concerning.
In Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory Administration (FCTA) has implemented licensing systems and designated Keke routes, with strict enforcement through the Vehicle Inspection Office (VIO) and Road Traffic Services. Lagos State, despite its size and complexity, tracks Keke riders through digital systems, assigns them to approved zones, and regularly conducts safety trainings.
Kaduna State has introduced a licensing model combined with dedicated parks and a mobile app that tracks riders in real time. These cities have proven that regulation works—when there’s the political will to enforce it.
If Kano hopes to reclaim order and dignity on its streets, the time to act is now. The following reform steps are both urgent and essential:
The state must begin a mandatory registration of all tricycles and their operators. Each tricycle should have a unique identification number, verifiable documentation, and display the operator’s photo and license publicly on the vehicle.
This agency would be responsible for issuing licenses, vetting riders through background checks, creating designated routes, and enforcing road safety standards.
Every operator must undergo a basic road safety and public conduct training before being allowed to operate. A licensing exam—similar to what car drivers face—should be introduced and enforced.
Kano’s metropolitan areas must be mapped and divided into zones. Keke riders should only operate within their licensed zones to prevent overconcentration in urban centers.
The deployment of smart surveillance cameras, mobile tracking apps, and cashless payment options can help create a digital trail for every operator. This would also enable the tracking of crimes or misconduct.
Rather than banning tricycles outright, the government should partner with transport cooperatives and investors to introduce modern minibuses, eco-friendly ride options, and organized taxi fleets to complement or gradually replace the current Keke chaos.
Implementing these reforms will require strong political resolve. It won’t be easy—especially with tricycle unions and informal networks benefiting from the current chaos. But the long-term benefits far outweigh the short-term discomfort.
Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf and the Kano State House of Assembly must prioritize urban mobility as a key governance issue. If left unattended, this transportation crisis could spiral into something far more dangerous—not just traffic congestion, but citywide insecurity, health hazards, and public frustration.
Conclusion: Kano at a Crossroads
The rise of Keke Napep in Kano is not merely a transport issue—it is a reflection of systemic governance failure. And yet, it is fixable.
With smart planning, strong leadership, and a citizen-first mindset, Kano can turn this chaos into opportunity. The city deserves a modern, clean, and safe transport system—one that reflects its status as a northern giant and a proud pillar of Nigerian history.
Until then, Kano remains trapped in the noise, smoke, and disorder of three wheels gone rogue.
Abdullahi Inuwa is a columnist and policy advocate with a focus on urban governance and northern development. He writes from Katsina.
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