Mike Asuquo

Will the bicycle wheel forward or backward?

Homepage Manual Contents

Excerpt from: Bicycle Reference Manual for Developing Countries. Edited by Barbara Gruehl Kipke, April 1991.

"The road to the hospital turned out to be quite hilly, not streep but just enough to take the wind out of one; and, with the kind of passenger I had, I didn't care to admit too readily to being tired... . You are eating the hills like yam.

'I haven't seen any hill yet', I replied, getting back some of my breath as I pedalled freely down the small, friendly descent that followed"

Well, the incident that followed turned out to be a most unsavoury one. But there is hardly any doubt that in chapter Nine of A man of the People Acheb puts, as succintly as only he can, the Bicycle in use in an appropriate historic, albeit fictional, context.

Today, however the bicycle as a symbol of making the point to a loved one has become autlandish. Today Edna, who in the quote tells Odili that he "eats the hills like yams", would more appropriately say. "I like the way you drive". (That's if compliments in such veins are still forthcoming).

The bicycle used to be the status symbol, the object of pleasure and leisure. These days they are even struggling to remain as the backbone of rural transportation. In Nigeria's urban areas the chopper (toys for pampered children) is about the only reminder that a genre of automobiles exists called the bicycle.

At the headquarters of the old Department of Post and Telecommunications in Bodija, Ibadun, there os hardly a space on typical working day for the visitor to park his car.

However, there os acurious facility in the middle of the large premises. It is bicycle racks on which no single bicycle is to be found.

Who wants to ride on a bicycle these days?

Who cares about riding a bicyle? Who wants to ride the bicycle, after all? Is there a market for the bicycle?

Gentle-mannered Reuben Ogunpitan appears bemused as he hurries towards his office.

Off-handedly, he offers tersely: "Oh, people still ride bicycles... . Unless you mean in a place like Lagos where riding bicycle means instant death."

In his answer, Ogunpitan is offering just more than an oppinion. He is in addition to being the company's secretary, the financial director of Raleigh Industries (Nigeria) Limited, (RINL), Kano, a company whose involvement with the bicycle market in Nigeria dates back to 1919, when the first formal agreement for the distribution of Raleigh bicycles was signed with United African Company (U.A.C).

And his answer is informed, undoubtedly, by over a decade of poring over the company's sales returns, transactions and market surveys.

Underlying his answer is the fact that although the man hunched over, and pedalling away on a bicycle is no longer a familiar sight on the streets of the nation's major urban centres, yet the bicycle, as a means of transportation, is largely still in use.

Mr Godwin Isibor, RINL's operations manager supports his colleague's fuse. "Up to the 1970s, people wanted to ride bicycles. If you had a Raleigh Super you were supposed to have made it".

"In the early part of 1980s, people tended to move away from bicycles to motorcycles and cars in the urban areas, but people in the rural areas were still using bicycles..."

Jimoh A. Alabi, a bicycle dealer at 16, Idumagbo Avenue, Lagos, whose involvement in the business states back to 1943, says most of his customers come from outside Lagos metropolis.

Isibor continues: "Now that the economic recession has come we expect that people in the town will come back to the bicycle because the price of motorcycles is completely out of reach..."

Coming on the wake of the introduction of the Second-tier Foreign Exchange Market (SFEM) and the attendant price increase, the prices of vehicles were deemed exorbitant. Volkswagen of Nigeria (VWoN) increased the price of the Beetle 1500CC by 250 per cent from N6,650 to N20,000, thus driving the cheapest car in the Nigerian market out of the reach of even the highest paid public servant.

A motorcycle which cost about N600 in 1985 had by the end of 1986 increased to about N6,000.

These increases we hoped to result in a change in consumer behavior in favour of cheaper substitutes, and in this case the bicycle.

However, Isibor points out of snag. "One expects demand (for bicycles) to increase although the price will tend to dampen the rate of the increase."

Alhaji Yusuf B. Adamu, sales manager of Alhaji Mohammadu Inuwa's bicycle shop at 75 Ibrahim Taiwo Road, Kano is satisfied with the bicycle business. Adamu, who has 16 years experiance in bicycles distributorship, enthuses: "I do weekly stock balance and from that I know definetly that the sales have been increasing. I noticed this since last February."

In one day, that is December 8, 1986 alone, he sold 200 pieces of bicycles for N83,7000.

Adamu who is aware of the price hikes on bicycles says that last November Raleigh Roadster dealer price was N450 while the consumer has to cough out N517,50. Six years ago, the consumer would have paid N240.

Adamu says the high cost of motor cars and cycles have resulted in an increase in the demand for bicycles. He does not mince words about the future of the bicycle market: "If you look at the bicycle, it is the only vehicle in which a buyer cheats the producer in the sence that a person can use it for many years without fuel or spare parts. You can buy it and have rest of mind."

But in Lagos, Jimoh Alabi is facing hard times due to increases in the prices of bicycles. He laments: "Our main problem is the (high) price. People are no longer demanding for bicycles... Since two years ago when the price of bicycles was inflated, demand has fallen." He says a Raleigh bicycle that sold for N250 in September, 1986 has been increased to N465.

Alabi, who contemplates changing to another trade if the hard times persist, says: "If they (bicycle makers) reduce price, people will demand for more... In the past, parents were buying bicycles for their children at school. But today they can't afford it."

To officials of Raleigh, a dark cloud still hovers over the bicycle market. The picture of the market tells part of the story. According to the company's market survey, figures of the national bicycle market has been recording a steady decline since 1980.

In 1976, a year after the company set up ist factory in Kano, the national bicycle requirement rose from 600,000 to 620,000 units in 1977; then peaked in 1978 with 900,000. It then fell form 700,000 in 1979 to 650,000 in 1980. By 1986, that market had slumped to 400,000 untis. So also has the company's share of the market.

Isibor says: "Until 1978/79, before the Federal Government threw the door open to all manners of foreign bicycles, we controlled about 95 per cent of the market. Later our share of the market fell to about 50 per cent."

He adds: "It's not surprising that many people in Nigeria don't know that bicycles are manufactured in Nigeria."

What is responsible for this ignorance? he answers: "Perhaps, we have not blown our trompets enough. Perhaps, we should blow it a little bit more."

Established in October 1973, the company officials insist, is 'Nigerian-owned' with T.I. Raleigh (International) Limited, Nothingham, England controlling 33 per cent of the shares.

The company prides ist Kano factory as the "largest in Africa" with the "capacity to manufacture 450,000 bicycles yearly". "With an initial yearly production of four models and 65,000 units in 1975, the production rose to 14 models and 100,000 units by 1981."

On its affilation with T.I. Raleigh, Chistopher Hill a Briton and works director, says: "We are an accociate company utilizing the Raleigh brand name complying with their specifications". The United Kingdom Company (T.I. Raleigh) provides training for personnel both within and outside Nigeria.

The compny officials contend that as far as the company is concerned the transfer of technology which was to follow on the heels of the establishment of such a factory has been achieved.

At its imposing factory in Bompai, a sprawling industrial estate in Kano, noise is a familiar companion of the factory workers. A myriad of activities go on simultaneously: huge machines and tools painted blue are in most cases installed near the walls of the rectangular hall with partitions.

"What we are saying is that we have been manufacturing bicycle in this country for over 10 years, und that we sell the bicycles we manufacture in completely knocked down form to our dealers who are trained to assemble them."

Christopher Hill, RINL's Works director, insistently demands "from what you've seen, do you think we assemble or manufacture bicycles?" Hill's effort attempts to commit the reporter who has just emerged from a inspection of the company's factory, to state his impression.

Obviously, RINL's official reactions stem from an editorial on The Cuardian (December 6, 1986) titled: "No More Assembly Plants."

To them the offending paragraph had read; "It is one of the ironies of our development that even though bicycles have been in use in Nigeria for over half a century, we have never been able to produce or fabricate them here. All we have ever been able to do is to assemble bicycles from imported Completely Knocked Down Parts (CKDs). We cannot fabricate the frame, thc wheels, the tyres or even the spokes. Nor can we fabricate the spare parts. We have no machine tools and no moulds for making any part of a simple bicycle."

Can the company really produce bicycles locally without foreign assistance? Isibor, an industrial engineer, answers in the affirmative "No doubt. We can produce without technical aid." However, he adds: "But whether we can produce without imported materials is anothcr matter... We are presently utilizing the products of every manufacturer that is able to produce our raw material requirements."

The making of a bicycle starts with the cutting of a high carbon steel pipe (imported), approximately 20 feet with an electric saw into difierent dimensions, depending on the part of the bicycle they will be fitted into.

Raleigh uses the powder coating process to branch its products to a high gloss. This makes them highly resistant to corrosion and scratch.

The bicycles are then packed in CKD sets of five units per carton and despatched to dealers who carry out the assembly and sales.

"In view of the fact that we do not assemble our own bicycles ourselves, but have trained our dealers to assemble our bicycles at the point of sale, it is surprising that we are being accused of being assemblers of imported bicycles," says Raleigh officials.

From the production process, it is evident that not all bicycle parts are produced from the factory, Isibor agrees, saying: "All the painted parts of the bicycle are made here. But all the chrome-plated parts are not made here because there is no suitable chrome-plating plant to produce them." Some of the chrome-plated parts are the wheels, saddle handle bars, gear system and chain.

Official explanations follow on the heels of Isibor's admission: RINL says for over six years, government policies have frustrated their decision to build a plant, valued in 1984 at six million naira which at SFEM rate will cost 20 million naira, a venture the company cannot undertake because it is currently operating at less than 25 per cent capacity.

Advancing that the company, which started 'manufacturing' bicycles in 1975 has achieved a "high local value added of well over 70 per cent (pre-SFEM using ID CC definition)," RINL states: "However, it is important to emphasise that it is generally neither feasible nor desirable for a factory to try to make all its own raw materials. No factory in the whole world can achieve this except perhaps in the communist world..."

THE (Nigerian) GUARDIAN, Wednesday, January 21, 1987

Of what relevance has the company's contribution been in this regard? Isibor is unequivocal in his submission. "Nobody transfers technology by putting it in an en envelope and posting it to you. By Setting up a factory to manufacture bicycles and training Nigerians to carry out the operations. the technology for bicycle manufacture has been transferred to Nigeria."

Hills adds: "The level of technology is mid-range. It is not beyond old relief that any Nigerian could be trained to make bicycles. We are talking about intermediate technology being transferred. We have been training people to make bicycles. We are handing over a lot of basic skills. It is not like the car assembly where vou have got sophisticated machinery which mainly requires pressing buttons."

Price increase by the company has affected sales. Alabi who maintains that although Raleigh products still command a large part of the market, hints that customers have started showing preference for other brands such as Avon, Hero and Atlas.

Isibor offers what could pass as a rationate for the price hikes: "If you're operating your industry at 25 per cent capacity then you have to charge more to cover your overhead costs."

The company senior officials insist the RINL has been facing great odds in its efforts to 'manufacture' locally. Isibor says the biggest headache has been the "economic policies of government" which tend to discriminate against local manufacturers of bicycles.

An official bulletin expatiates: "However, due to various government policies, lack of protection for its local bicycle industry, and import licence problems, this factory has never been given the opportunity to produce up to 100,000 per annum in its last five years."

"Last year (1985) it produced 90,000 bicycles and the year before (1984) it produced only 60,000 bicycles. Currently Federal Government SFEM policies and tariff structure favour importation of complete bicycles and effectively discriminates against the local bicycle manufacturer..."

On November 10, 1986. J.B. Dunnill, managing director of RlNL had petitioned the minister, Federal Ministry of Industries over "Proposed Import Duty and Excise Duty Rates."

Arguing that while an importer's duties ameanted to only N34.36, the Nigerian manufacturer who imported the same bicycle in "raw material form" is made to pay N47.79.

The letter had read in part: "It can be seen that the importer and trader will pay N13.43 less than the Nigerian bicycle manufacturer who has to pay a total duty rate equivalent to 19.1% on his imported raw materials."

Isibor says between 1983 and I985 the country, was literally a "dumping" ground for 'low quality' bicycles imported from China and India: These bicycles, he charges, were subsidized by the governments of the exporting nations.

He maintains the local manufacturer is in direct need of protection by the government: "There is no government in the world which doesn't protect her own industries." Hill insists: "If Iocal products have to compete with imported goods without protection, then local industries will lose out."

What is the future of bicycles? - Kano, Adamu is still suffused with optimism: "By 1990, I believe bicycle producers will be hard put to meet demand... As of now everything is very scarce. Even the (Kano) state government promised to give Nl,000 to levels 01-07 workers to purchase bicycles. This will give us more sales for bicycles."

But in Lagos, Alabi is less optimistic. He does not foresee more people riding bicycles, at least, in Lagos.

"Can you ride bicycle in Lagos" he asks, then adds "you will be praying for a motor car. If you ride a bicycle, your friends will jeer at."

Then he asks rather rhetorically: "If people cannot ride bicycle (in Lagos), how do you think they will demand for it?"

Alabi's testimony shows how changing economic fortunes have decreed the bicycle rider of the streets of Lagos. No wonder none of the companies involved in the bicycle business has its headauarters in Lagos.

WEDNESDAY, January 14, 1987. 30, Isale Agbade Street, off Idumagbo Avenue, Lagos. Kareem Salau's chubby face and heavy-set frame pass him off as a wrestler as he stares inquiringly at the visitors. Perhaps to stave off the heat, his body is bare. He reclines against a wall and with his right leg atop the bench, cuts the picture of a man in want of what to do. He is. But there is nothing to do. There is no business, yet. And probably, there never will be that day.

On another bench, his colleague, Joseph Ola Abiiba sits reading a Bible. Salau is a bicycle repairer, a trade he took to in 1969 at Ilorin. He recalls the past in pidgin English with nostalgia: "Before before, I get plenty customers. But now, no one." he laments, obviously an excuse for his idleness.

"One might get one job to do in a day. Is that job?" he queries.

Abiiba, 62, who has been involved in the trade since 1944, volunteers: "If you wan go labourer, no work. Handwork no good again. Bicycle repairer business don go down. Unless those who know more than bicycle repairing... Three years ago this place go full. But now, look, no way."

The few reminders that the well swept, narrow space beside the main building is a bicycle repair shop is a tool box an old bicycle with a carrier flaunting on the sides of an ice-box "for sale."

Salau says that business was booming in the 1970s: "business dey good. Bicycle I dey.. market I dey."

Salau says they started experiencing hard times during the government of former President Shehu Shagari, when austerity measures were introduced.

Abiiba says before 1960 "everything go easy. Around 1960 and 1970, everything begin worse."

Both repairers say that people are no longer keen about riding bicycles in Lagos. And that the situation has been aggravated by the exalating prices of bicycles. "If not for the high cost, parents for dey buy bicycles for their children" observes Salau.

In Lagos, the likes of Salau and Abiiba are an endangered species of sorts. They occupy, if and wherever they are found in the sprawling metropolis, obscure, low density areas. Their predicament is an apt example of how changing economic fortune can render a trade redundant.

Given the fact that the market is not just here for his skill, has Abiiba for instance, ever considered moving inland, away from Lagos, where there exists a larger market? Abiiba immediately rules out such possibility. Shaking his hand, he says: "I no fit go up and down for old age."

Outside Waje Area Court, on Murtala Muhammed Way, Kano, about 13 repairers do business under a tree. The business scene to them is not as gloomy as that of their colleagues in metropolitan Lagos.

Baba Mai Hali, 45, has spent 20 years on the job. Asked about the market, Hali speaking through an interpreter, says: "Market dey move small small." Hali confirms there is a lull in the market because fewer people, even in Kano, ride bicycle rhese days. "There's no money. The bicycle is costly. There's no money even to repair the bicycle. People keep their bicycles at home."

Does he see the trade dying? Hali, who says 13 of his children are engaged in the trade, counters. "Now I can't Ieave it. I can't do any other thing than this. I have been doing this for 20 years."

Muhammed Musa, 19, another repairer, says the number of customers who demand his service has been on the decline. Musa, who has seven years experience says he takes home between five and three naira daily against N20 between 1983 and 1984.

The repairers are aware of the high cost of bicycles. Have their charges increased, too? Musa says he demands one naira to change a tyre, a service he used to charge between 50 and 70 kobo in the past.

Hali says he used to charge three naira to service a bicycle, but now he collects two naira "if they (customers) beg."

The question when put across to Salau draws a cynical retort: "How you go charge work where you no see. Wetin you go charge... They (customers) will run away."

Have they countemplated changing roles? Salau says: "Na only bicycle repairing work I know. If I go any other work, I go accept am."

Hali says there is no other job for him outside repairing bicycles. My children are doing this job... I enjoy Ihe work. I have to be patient. There's nothing I can do outside this.