"Bitte alle anschnallen," please fasten your seatbelts, Stephen Sunday says in German. "We’re off." He turns on the blinker, glances over his shoulder and guides his large yellow bus into the left lane. It’s a scene that seems rather incongruent here in the Kenyan town of Homa Bay. After all, it’s pretty rare that anyone in Kenya would put on a seatbelt in a bus, and glancing over one’s shoulder when entering traffic also isn’t exactly part of the standard driver’s repertoire. But Sunday wants to do everything just right, because he is aiming for a future far away from the shores of Lake Victoria. He is hoping for a job with a public transportation firm in northern Germany.

Homa Bay, as quickly becomes clear, is nothing like neighborhoods on the outskirts of Hamburg. The streets are clogged with honking motorcycle taxis and donkey carts, and making rapid progress is impossible. Sunday chugs along patiently in his bus behind all the obstacles, a gentle smile on his lips and his hand ready for action on the gear shift. There’s not much that can upset him.

Sunday has been driving buses for 10 years. He is employed by a school and brings children to soccer tournaments during the day. "My father was a teacher, and I really wanted to work with children as well," says the 38-year-old. At times when his bus-driving skills aren’t needed, he helps out at the school by printing out exam papers or getting books. He loves his job, he says. But he is still looking forward to what lies ahead: a career as a bus driver in Germany, a secure job with, in comparison to Kenya, a solid income. A new beginning. "I’m the explorer type," he says.

Kenya has risen high on the list of possible source countries for skilled workers in Germany, and not just for bus drivers. The two countries are currently working on a migration agreement that would make relocating to Germany much easier for Kenyans. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz made a state visit to Nairobi last year and gushed about the opportunities on the German job market. At a press conference following his meeting with Scholz, Kenyan President William Ruto even spoke of 250,000 jobs available to his countrymen in Germany. It was clearly an error: The number refers to Germany’s total need for foreign workers. But the hype could no longer be contained.

The Goethe Institute in the capital of Nairobi offers consulting for those interested in migrating, and since the chancellor’s visit, its appointment books have been full. "Demand has increased significantly," says project manager Claudia Schilling. "There is now a much stronger focus on Germany as a possible destination. That represents an opportunity for both sides." She says she fields calls from bakeries in North Rhine-Westphalia looking for trainees and high school graduates from Kenya who want to work in the German healthcare industry. But Schilling also warns: "More than anything, we have to manage expectations at the moment. Many of them are unrealistic, on both sides."

The hurdles, after all, remain high. The agency in Berlin through which Sunday is hoping to come to Germany has identified more than 100 candidates from Kenya to bolster local public transportation. Torsten Albig, the former governor of the German state of Schleswig-Holstein, is a co-founder of the company, which has just completed the first contract for five bus drivers with a northern Germany transportation company. It was anything but simple.

"It is a pilot project, and the bureaucratic challenges are enormous," says Albig’s partner, Bärbel Boy. It becomes clear, she says, that "Germany is not a country of immigration." It starts with the recognition of qualifications. All of the candidates from Kenya already have a license to drive a bus, but in Germany, not even their basic driver’s licenses are recognized. They have to start over again from zero. In addition, they must complete a Chamber of Commerce examination, all of which can take up to six months. The potential costs for local transportation companies run into the thousands. Given the acute need for new drivers, Britta Oehlrich, head of the transportation company Verkehrsbetriebe Hamburg-Holstein, isn’t backing down in the face of such hurdles. "When it comes to recruiting employees, we have to explore new strategies," she says.

Classes have started on the shores of Lake Victoria. A German teacher is standing before the prospective bus drivers and is reviewing material from previous lessons, starting with introductions. "I am Stephen Sunday, and I am a bus driver," says the course participant, almost accent-free. He has practiced the sentence frequently. The B1 German exam is approaching on the weekend, and he has to do well. "This exam is standing between you and a trip to Germany. Don’t forget," says the teacher, Connie Achieng, upping the pressure.

Then it’s time for lessons focused on the job at hand. The teacher says that before each shift, drivers must inspect the bus, check for cleanliness and ensure that it has enough fuel. It is important, she says, to show up for work in good shape and to have eaten before starting a shift. Class participants listen attentively and take notes. If all goes well, they will be flying off to Germany in March.

The underlying trends are clear: Germany badly needs skilled workers from abroad, and not just well-educated IT specialists and engineers, but also people who can drive buses, fix cars and provide care to the elderly. Kenya’s education system enjoys a good reputation in Africa, and the country’s high school graduates are considered relatively well educated and highly motivated. But only a fraction of them are able to find a decent job in the country, and the economy is weak. The migration of trained professionals to Germany could be a win-win situation.

Earlier this year, German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock traveled to Kenya and the issue of worker migration was among the topics discussed. A deal is currently being negotiated between Germany and Kenya, which, once it is completed, will be the second of its kind in Africa, following a similar agreement with Morocco. These so-called migration partnerships are designed to establish more legal opportunities for migration to Germany, especially for skilled workers. Candidates are to be specifically prepared for life in Germany with specially designed courses, and their countries of origin also commit to take citizens back should they be obliged to leave Germany.

"The issue is high on the agenda, but German bureaucracy is unfortunately way behind in some areas," says Maren Diale-Schnellschmidt of the German Chamber of Commerce Abroad (AHK) in Kenya. The AHK now offers its own professional training programs and has been trying for several months to get them recognized in Germany. Once that happens, the bureaucratic hurdles to migration will be lower. "But even then, that doesn’t mean that local officials in Germany will accept the recognition," Diale-Schnellschmidt laments. In some cases, each municipality decides on its own. The process has been extremely protracted for those who have completed the courses thus far.

Several changes to the law made since November 2023 are designed to remove hurdles one by one, at least for certain occupations. Recognition of qualifications is to be made easier, or even eliminated entirely in some cases. But there is still a long way to go, as can be seen at Mount Kenya University, located about an hour’s drive from Nairobi.

Dr. Christopher Mutembei receives his guests from DER SPIEGEL on the rooftop terrace on the 13th floor. The terrace provides a 360-degree view across the arid landscape outside the capital, with the blue of the university pool shimmering below, a group of students splashing in the water. Mutembei is head of the Center for Professional Development, and he has ambitious plans. He would like to pave the way for 10,000 graduates to make their way to Germany, a fifth of all students at his center. "The interest is huge, if only there were enough German teachers," he says. Because of the current boom, it has become extremely difficult to find trained teachers.

So, Mount Kenya University is starting small, with a pilot project together with the Koblenz University of Applied Sciences. On the first floor of the university building, a group of young men and women in green lab coats are standing around medical training dolls lying on hospital beds. The students feel their pulse, measure their blood pressure and insert IV needles – all part of the training they hope to ultimately use on patients in Germany. In the lecture hall next door, students are practicing their German: Jeremy Maina, who has once again jumped in as a teacher, is conjugating the verb "kochen," to cook.

Maina speaks fluent German and lived in Germany for almost 10 years as a university student. During his studies, he worked several jobs, including building up scaffolding at construction sites, working at a dry cleaner and even delivering DER SPIEGEL magazine. He then returned to Kenya without having completed his degree and began applying for apprenticeship positions back in Germany. "I sent out dozens of applications, but I only received rejections," he says. A lot of people in Kenya have similar stories to tell.

Ultimately, Jeremy Maina was lucky. On the internet, he ran across an ad searching for care workers in Germany. "At first, I didn’t want to believe it. I thought it was some shady agency. But then my sister saw the ad on television as well," Maina says. So, he applied and was accepted. He trained on the dolls in the training room and attended courses on intercultural understanding. Last August, he completed his seven months of preparation at Mount Kenya University, after which he was supposed to start work at a clinic in Baden-Württemberg. But for a time, nothing happened.

In order for trainees to be allowed to begin work in the state, the government in Stuttgart has to first recognize candidates' school leaving certificates. And that takes time – an average of six months for each. "I know how things work in Germany. I wasn’t surprised. But the others were really frustrated," the 37-year-old says. Good news, though, has recently arrived – his qualifications have been recognized and his contract signed. But now, he needs a visa, which takes an average of three to four months to issue.

Caroline Mwangi helped establish the program at Mount Kenya University and is currently living in Nuremberg, where she heads up a diaspora network for her compatriots in Germany. She helps newcomers get established and offers mentoring and integration courses. "Without the right guidance and assistance, most people don’t stand a chance in the bureaucratic jungle," she says.

Such guidance, though, is frequently missing. Instead, an increasing number of shady agencies are seeking to profit from the current boom and take advantage of the Kenyans. Some of them demand four-digit payments from the candidates – even before they have signed a contract to work in Germany. On the internet, they promise 60 days of vacation, high salaries and a complete package of services. The Kenyan government has also begun warning of such charlatans. "We have to steer the gold-rush mentality in an orderly direction," says Mwangi.

In Homa Bay, the bus drivers-in-training are heading to the city hospital for a health checkup. They are each carrying a long list of tests that must be performed, including a vision check, complete blood analysis and reflex tests. Stephen Sunday covers one eye and starts reading a few letters from the wall. But then he begins running into some difficulties, and the doctor determines that he has minor near-sightedness. In Kenya, the bus driver worked day and night without corrective lenses, but that will now change. The fact that he has been prescribed eyeglasses, though, won’t get in the way of his migration plans. In just a few weeks, he will find himself in Germany just as winter begins to give way to spring – if all goes well. "I will do my best, no matter what," he says.