Sherehe ya Archives: How Nairobi matatu stage became city's holiest dance floor

For years, the cabro-paved grounds outside the Kenya National Archives meant one thing: long queues and tired commuters waiting for a ride home.

Not any more.

Every evening, the busy matatu stage in Nairobi's CBD turns into an open-air gospel party. Commuters now arrive with whistles, flags, a happy-go-lucky mood and the latest dance moves.

The after-work gospel party kicks off at 5pm and runs until 10pm, when the tired but happy crowd finally boards matatus and heads home.

The DJs open with gospel classics, dusting off hits from the archives, quite fittingly. Rose Muhando's Nibebe drifts through the air as the crowd sings along word for word.

Then the DJ switches gears to chart-topping tracks from Wernono Crew and Daddy Owen, popularly known as Papa Fololo. The crowd goes wild.

Newer gospel releases follow, and the dancing only gets fiercer. The exhaustion of a long day and the thought of the journey home fade away.

Then the music takes a turn from the modern to the timeless.

The DJ plays award-winning singer Emmy Kosgei, and the Kalenjin sound rolls across the grounds. Revellers who have never set foot in the Rift Valley sing along regardless.

Next comes a clever switch to Kigoco, the Kikuyu dance rhythm that sets waists and shoulders moving.

Just when the energy seems unstoppable, the mood shifts again.

The tempo slows and deep worship music takes over. Soothing ballads fill the air as the lively crowd turns reflective. Hands are raised, eyes close and many sing quietly, connecting with their Maker in the middle of the city.

The party has one rule: there is no alcohol. Revellers say the only spirit moving through the crowd is the Holy Spirit.

The rise of what Kenyans now fondly call "Sherehe ya Archives" has been helped by social media. Videos of the evenings, shared under the "Pulpit on the Streets" banner, have racked up millions of views.

Kenyans in the diaspora and in other towns have been left green with envy. Many abroad say they are missing the fun back home.

"Watu wenye sio Wakenya bytha hu feel aje? Because my country is a vibe bana," said Ms Vonne.

"I miss home. Love for my country. God may you bless all Kenyans for me," said Mummy Melissa.

Those who turn up come from all walks of life. Office workers, traders, students and casual labourers all squeeze into the same space, united by the music.

For many, it has made the dreaded wait for transport something to look forward to. As the old Swahili saying goes, haba na haba hujaza kibaba, and every little step of joy adds up at the end of a hard day.

As the clock nears 10pm, the final song fades and the crowd spills towards the waiting matatus. Voices are hoarse, feet are sore and the smiles are wide.

The same stage that once tested commuters' patience now sends them home with a prayer on their lips.