Before Vasha was cool: Thrill of 90s Safari Rally

In the 1990s, March and April were months to behold, eagerly anticipated for the electrifying spectacle of the Safari Rally. The roar of engines, the thrill of high-speed chases, and the audacity of fearless drivers injected a carnival-like atmosphere into the season, filling the air with excitement and ecstasy.

While the Lent season, the Way of the Cross, and the long rains defined April, it was the heart-pounding manoeuvres of Safari Rally drivers that truly made the season unforgettable.

These daredevils of the track showcased unparalleled steering prowess, executed gravity-defying cornering, and redefined the very limits of automotive science.

Villages along the Nakuru-Nairobi Highway and the rugged terrains of Ngong bore witness to these mechanical marvels as they thundered through rocky, dusty, and rain-slicked roads. The rally was more than just a race; it was a national event, christened the Marlboro Safari Rally—a household name that commanded respect.

Almost every “cube,” as the small single-room houses were known, had magazine and newspaper clippings dedicated to the rally, plastered as treasured memorabilia.

In those days, Subaru had yet to make a formidable imprint on the rally scene. Instead, it was the Toyota Celica and the Martini Lancia that dominated, cutting through the wild Kenyan landscape with unmatched ferocity.

The race would traditionally commence at the Kenyatta International Conference Centre (KICC), where the cars were ceremoniously flagged off before hurtling down the highways at breakneck speeds, leaving plumes of dust and gasps of awe in their wake.

It was a grand spectacle to see the well-numbered cars streak past, piloted by legends such as Joginder Singh, Björn Waldegård, Shekhar Mehta, Juha Kankkunen, Hannu Mikkola, and Kenya’s very own Patrick Njiru.

Njiru, a sporting icon in his own right, once shattered records, earning himself a place in the annals of rally history, his name etched in the hearts of Kenyans and emblazoned across newspapers and magazines.

Joginder Singh, affectionately known as “The Flying Sikh,” was a maestro behind the wheel. His mastery of the 1600cc Mitsubishi Lancer saw him clinch victory in ecstatic fashion, a testament to his raw skill and unwavering determination. His love affair with the steering wheel began humbly—as a spanner boy in his family’s garage. From those modest beginnings, he ascended to the pinnacle of World Rally Championship glory, a journey navigated alongside his trusted co-driver, David Doig, his long-time companion in the sport.

Joginder’s passing at a London hospital at the age of 81 marked the end of an era, but his brilliance and exploits remain indelible. Fittingly, the rally legend took his final bow on Mashujaa Day in 2013, as if in recognition of his status as a true Kenyan hero who made the 1990s a golden age of motorsport.

His legacy endures—a man who entertained generations, a three-time Safari Rally champion who ventured onto the international stage, forever enshrined in history as the Kenyan Sikh who conquered the toughest rally in the world.

Back in the day, television sets were a luxury in most villages. For those unable to witness the spectacle firsthand, the transistor radio was a lifeline, crackling with updates and thrilling commentary, transporting listeners into the heart of the muddy and mad season. The excitement was palpable, yet limited by the lack of technology. Unlike today, where live coverage, the internet, and smartphones offer front-row access to the action, rally fans in the ‘90s relied on pure imagination and word-of-mouth storytelling.

Fast-forward to the present, and the Safari Rally has evolved into the now-famous and notorious “Vasha Rally,” held in Naivasha. Though modern rallies boast state-of-the-art technology, extensive media coverage, and throngs of physical spectators who flock to witness the spectacle, some argue that the sheer raw thrill of the ’90s has been somewhat diluted. The mystique of braving the elements to catch a fleeting glimpse of a speeding rally car has been replaced by the convenience of digital accessibility.