Eight thousand shillings
Eight thousand Kenyan shillings. That's what Nayna paid for a 2008 Honda CB125 that was more dead than alive. Bent frame, blown engine, tank pitted with corrosion. It was sold to her by a boda-boda rider called Ochieng — a motorcycle taxi driver — who didn't know what to do with it anymore. Eight thousand shillings was everything Nayna had at that moment. She was twenty. She'd been repairing bikes on the sidewalk for months, without a workshop, without a space, with four wrenches and a screwdriver. The boda-boda drivers in the area paid her in cash, sometimes in kind: a helmet, half a tank of gas, a plate of food.
She didn't always eat every day. But every night she wrote down what she'd earned in a squared notebook.
The CB125 was a bet she had no right to make. But Nayna doesn't think in terms of right. She thinks in terms of: can this be fixed or not. And that bike could be fixed.







