It starts with a small, unsettling thought that refuses to go away: What if the bike you ride every day isn’t really yours?
That question is what lit the fuse around Spiro, the electric motorbike company that has expanded quickly across 27 regions in Kenya. For many riders, Spiro bikes promised a way out of high fuel costs and punishing daily expenses. But critics now say Spiro bikes have come to symbolise something else entirely, a new kind of control dressed up as innovation.
This argument spilled onto social media a fortnight ago after Rapcha, a well-known media personality, complained that his Spiro bike had been switched off after sitting unused for a while. The details were not very clear, but the reaction was. Riders and commentators jumped to the conclusion that if a company can turn your bike off, then your work is only yours as long as someone else allows it.
“Apparently if you are sick for a few days, or involved in an accident and can’t use your bike, the battery is reported as “Stolen” and your data immediately switched off from their swapping stations,” Rapcha, whose real name is Francis Njeri, posted on X. “You have to physically tow the bike to their station in mlolongo at your own cost for the battery to be re-registered again or forever forget using your bike.”
Why has the anger refused to go away
To understand the backlash, you have to know how Spiro works.
Founded in 2019, Spiro launched in Togo and Benin in 2022, followed by Kenya, Rwanda, Uganda, and Nigeria in 2025. The EV maker is a subsidiary of Equitane Group, headquartered in Dubai. It assembles EV two-wheelers, with one of its biggest plants in Nairobi.
Riders buy the bikes, usually through a payment plan. But the battery—the heart of the machine—does not belong to them. Instead, they swap batteries at Spiro stations and pay per swap.
On paper, it makes sense. EV batteries are expensive. Swapping is faster than charging—usually less than five minutes. But in real life, riders like Vincent Odero feel it creates dependence. A petrol rider can stop anywhere and refill. A Spiro rider can’t move without Spiro’s network of swapping stations.
“Spiro has addressed some of the issues, but still we cannot charge at home and only relies on their charging stations,” Odero says.
So when Kenyans on social media heard that bikes could be switched off, the fear spread fast. Riders imagined falling sick, travelling upcountry, or simply taking a break, and coming back to a dead bike and a broken income.
Spiro’s deputy head for Kenya, Raymond Kitunga, told in an interview that fear is based on rumours, not reality.
“It’s a fallacy to say we can switch off a moving bike,” he said. “If that were the case, we would have caused a trillion accidents by now.”
According to him, bikes are not shut down suddenly or casually. They are not disabled after a few days of inactivity. And they are certainly not switched off while someone is riding.
“There are set parameters—discussed, agreed, and contractually signed off—between all stakeholders,” he said. “We don’t just wake up and decide to switch off someone’s bike.”
He explained that deactivation only comes after a long period—about 45 days—of no battery swaps or engagement. Even then, he said, the company first tries to reach the rider.
“We call. We check in. We ask what’s happening,” Kitunga said. “If someone is sick, if there’s a genuine issue, those things are considered.”
For many riders, the issue isn’t whether Spiro abuses this power. It’s that the power exists at all.
Power, not just payments
Kenya’s boda boda economy runs on thin margins, with Car and General—a Kenya car and machinery maker—estimating that riders earn an average of KES1,000 ($7.75) daily. Most riders live day to day. Missing work for a week because of illness or family issues can push someone into debt.
That’s why Spiro’s critics say the company benefits from desperation. The bikes are cheaper to run than petrol ones. According to Spiro, their EVs are cheaper by between KES180 ($1.4) to KES300 ($2.33).
Riders like Rapcha reckon that while the bike may be physically theirs, the battery, the software, and the rules that govern access sit elsewhere. Activity is tracked, and inactivity has consequences.
Spiro rejects that framing. The company says it is offering access, not exploitation. Many riders who could never qualify for a bank loan can now own a bike. Daily repayments are as low as KES180 ($1.4). Fuel savings are real. For some riders, electric bicycles have improved their lives by helping them cut operational costs.
“I spend KES200 ($1.5) less than what I used to when I had a petrol bike,” says Stephen Mutisya, a rider in Nairobi. “ At the end of the day, I have some extra money that I can save for other personal uses.”
The battery that isn’t yours
For Spiro, battery swap is a practical choice. For many riders, it feels like dependence. They pay about KES290 ($2.25) per swap to ride an estimated 80km, which the company says is cheaper than 2 litre petrol at KES360 ($2.79) for the same distance.
“We did that purposefully,” Kitunga said. “The battery is the most expensive part of the bike. If we bundled it into the price, most riders wouldn’t afford the bike in the first place.”
The model lowers the upfront cost and keeps bikes on the road. But it also means riders can’t operate outside Spiro’s network. A petrol rider can refuel anywhere. A Spiro rider can’t move without access to a swap station.
Why not charge at home?
The idea of charging at home has been floated by many social media users who have come out to poke holes in the model. To many, if you own the bike, you should charge it at home like a phone. Why must you keep swapping batteries?
Kitunga says the answer is safety and time.
“People think home charging is freedom,” he said. “But charging takes hours. Swapping takes minutes. If your phone was your entire business, would you want it offline for eight hours every day?”
He also points to the risks of charging lithium batteries in informal home settings, where wiring and storage conditions are unpredictable.
From Spiro’s point of view, swapping maximises income and reduces risk. From a rider’s point of view, it still feels like someone else deciding how your day should run.
