Earlier today, a video went viral. A young woman—Asheahe, reportedly from Nasarawa Eggon—voiced outrage over a new clampdown on Keke riders plying the Eggon-Lafia route. Her frustration wasn’t just emotional—it was existential. She questioned why tricycle operators were being stopped mid-journey, with passengers kicked off along the perilous highway. Her protest cut deeper than just inconvenience—it was about respect, safety, and basic decency. Her demand was clear: if rules must be enforced, do it at proper points, not by ambushing people in transit. What she called for wasn’t rebellion—it was reason.
In a country where economic hardship bites hard, Keke Napep has become more than just a three-wheeler—it’s a lifeline. It ferries the jobless graduate hustling for survival, the village trader heading to market, and the nursing mother with her baby tied to her back. Originally introduced to Lagos by Buba Maruwa and scaled nationally through NAPEP under Obasanjo, the Keke became a symbol of hope—affordable, agile, and within reach of the common man. But no matter how useful, the Keke was never meant for high-speed highways. Between Nasarawa Eggon and Lafia lies a deadly stretch—fast-moving trailers, speeding buses, and fragile tricycles make a tragic mix.
Let’s be honest: Keke has no business on the expressway. No seat belts. Poor suspension. Flimsy frame. It’s a crash waiting to happen. That’s why states like Lagos and Abuja have drawn the line—Keke routes are regulated, and for good reason. Safety is not oppression. But how we enforce safety matters too. Confusing roadblocks, angry officials, and poor communication only stir resentment. What we need is order—clear signs, designated stops, proper engagement with operators. Safety shouldn’t feel like a crackdown—it should feel like care.
To Keke riders and passengers: your hustle is real. But no hustle is worth a body on the tarmac. And to government officials: listen, plan, and lead with compassion. That woman in the video? She wasn’t resisting safety. She was rejecting chaos. Her voice carried the fears of thousands. And we must listen. Because if we keep ignoring warning signs, even destiny might not catch up. Use safer routes. Value the hustle. But get that Keke off the highway—before the hustle turns fatal.
Abu can be reached via danjumaabu3750@gmail.com or +2348062380296.
