As usual, Eric Wainaina begins his shift at 6:30 a.m. The math has changed. The Nairobi motorcycle taxi driver could push his bike 180 kilometers in a day before the war on Iran started in late February, transporting passengers through a city that is constantly in motion. He now picks up a third of the clients, travels half that distance, and earns about half of what he used to. Every penny of the difference is felt by his wife and three kids.
Hearing about a fuel crisis in terms of a single motorcycle on a single Nairobi road is almost charming. However, in many parts of the world, this is happening through the slow math of people choosing which travels to take and which to avoid, rather than through dramatic headlines. The price of diesel in Kenya increased by 24% during the conflict, reaching about $1.60 per litre, and the rainy season added its own penalty. Wainaina warns that if things don’t improve quickly, he might have to relocate his family to the rural land his grandfather left him. The same retreat is being considered by other relatives.
It’s the worst oil supply shock in history, according to the International Energy Agency, and the phrase doesn’t do the heavy lifting. According to Goldman Sachs, the disruption of the Strait of Hormuz and the wave of attacks on regional energy infrastructure have reduced global production by about 14.5 million barrels per day. That represents a 57% decrease. It’s helpful to keep in mind that every missing barrel eventually manifests as a higher price somewhere, usually in a location that can least afford it. Large numbers tend to bounce off the page.
One of those locations is Africa, where there is an odd paradox. According to the Africa Finance Corporation, the continent imports more than 70% of its refined fuel despite having 12% of the world’s oil reserves. Simply put, there aren’t enough refineries. Crude is cheap when it leaves and expensive when it returns, and when the world market erupts as it has in recent months, the bill shows up out of the blue. According to reports, Kenya is contemplating a $600 million loan from the World Bank in order to maintain operations.
Although filing this as an African story would be simple, Amaka Anku, who oversees Eurasia Group’s Africa practice, challenged that framing in a way that resonated with me. “It’s not an Africa story — it’s a global story,” she replied. Asia has actually suffered a more severe blow to its supply chain due to its heavy reliance on Gulf petroleum. The Asian Development Bank has already lowered its 2026 growth estimate to 4.7 percent for the region’s developing economies. The architecture intended to lessen the pain was constructed for a different century, and it is simply dispersed unevenly.
The IEA itself is that architecture. Founded in 1974, when the majority of the world’s oil was consumed by industrialized Western nations, its 32 member nations now only account for 16% of the world’s population. Although the release of 400 million barrels from emergency reserves in March helped at the margins, it also revealed how thin the buffers are everywhere else. Strategic petroleum reserves are costly to develop, fill, and maintain, according to Khalid Waleed, a researcher at Pakistan’s Sustainable Development Policy Institute. Millions of barrels may seem like a luxury to nations already struggling with debt, food imports, and electricity subsidies—until they are absolutely necessary.
Notably, China isn’t waiting. With an estimated 1.4 billion barrels of emergency supplies, it has more than the OECD members of Europe, Saudi Arabia, Japan, and the United States put together. As this develops, it’s difficult to avoid wondering if the IEA’s role as the global oil safety net is quietly coming to an end and if anyone is planning what comes next. Eventually, the war might end. It looks like the shock will last longer.
