It is a small request, the kind that might pass unnoticed in another economy.
In Nairobi, a senior government official picks up his phone and calls a friend.
“Can you send me $15 (KSh 2,000)? I will refund later.”
There is no panic in his voice, no urgency. Just a quiet admission that, for a moment, the economic numbers do not add up.
In Kenya today, that moment has become familiar. It cuts across class and profession, from boda boda riders to salaried workers to those inside government offices who help shape the country’s economic policy.
On paper, Kenya’s economy is stabilizing. Growth is projected at about 5 percent. Inflation has eased into the central bank’s target range (below 5%). The currency has steadied at 129 against the dollar after a volatile stretch. For investors and policymakers, the narrative is one of resilience.
But beyond the spreadsheets, a different story is unfolding. It is one of tightening household budgets, rising taxes, and a pervasive sense that life is getting harder, not easier.
Economists have a term for this kind of divergence. They call it a K-shaped recovery. One part of the economy rises, while another falls or stagnates.
In Kenya, that split is becoming harder to ignore.
The price of survival
At an open-air market in Kayole, on the eastern edge of Nairobi, Mary Atieno moves from stall to stall, pausing at each to compare prices. She has come to buy vegetables, cooking oil and maize flour for her family of five.
“Bei imepanda kila kitu,” she said, shaking her head. (Prices have gone up for everything.)
She lifted a small packet of maize flour, a staple in most Kenyan households.
“Hii ilikuwa bei ya chini zamani,” she added. (This used to be cheaper before.) While inflation has slowed significantly in recent months, for shoppers like Mary, that distinction offers little relief.
Prices have not fallen. They have simply stopped rising as quickly.
“Unapunguza tu,” she said. (You just reduce.) She now buys smaller quantities, cooks simpler meals, and skips items that once felt essential. For the street mandazi vendor, the price has not changed, but the size of the buns has reduced, a concept called shrinkflation.
Mary’s husband works in construction, where jobs are irregular. On good weeks, he brings home about $50 (KSh 6,000) every Saturday. On bad weeks, there is nothing.
Their three children attend a nearby public school. Even there, costs add up, from uniforms to lunch contributions.
“We manage,” she said, pausing before adding, “Lakini ni ngumu sana” (But it is very difficult).
Growth without jobs
Across the city in Kasarani, a line of boda boda riders wait for customers under the midday sun.
Among them is Peter Mwangi, who has been riding for six years. He says business has slowed noticeably over the past year.
“Siku hizi ni kubahatisha,” he said. (These days it is about luck.)
Fuel prices remain high, eating into his daily earnings. Customers, he said, are negotiating harder, sometimes walking away over a difference of a few shillings.
“Watu hawana pesa,” he said. (People do not have money.)
On a good day, he makes about $12 (KSh 1,500). On a bad day, less than half that.
Kenya’s economy may be expanding, but job creation has not kept pace, particularly in the formal sector. For many young people, the only option is the informal economy, where incomes are unpredictable and protections are minimal.
This is what economists describe as jobless growth. Output increases, but employment does not follow at the same rate.
The middle-class squeeze
In Embakasi, a middle-income neighborhood, James and Lilian Kubasu are raising three children in a two-bedroom apartment.
Their combined monthly income is about $900 (KSh 120,000). A few years ago, that was enough to cover expenses and save a little.
Now, they say, it barely stretches.
Rent takes $200 (KSh 25,000). School fees, spread across the year, consume another $160 (KSh 20,000) each month. Food costs have climbed to more than $170 (KSh 22,000). Transport, househelp wage, water, electricity, utilities and internet fill in the rest.
“We used to have something left,” Mr. Njoroge says. “Now it is just paying bills.”
His wife runs a small online clothing business. Sales have slowed as customers cut back on nonessential spending.
“People ask, but they do not buy,” she says.
The family has adjusted. They eat out less, travel less, and postpone purchases. Savings have dwindled.
“Unaona ni kama unafanya kazi bure,” Mr. Njoroge says. (You feel like you are working for nothing.)
Restaurants and the quiet downturn
In Westlands, one of Nairobi’s commercial hubs, Abdul Aden, a restaurant owner described a similar shift.
Customers still come, he said. But they spend less.
“They order one meal instead of two. They skip drinks,” he said.
At the same time, his costs have risen. Electricity bills fluctuate. Rent remains high. Suppliers have increased prices.
He has raised menu prices cautiously, worried about losing customers.
“We are surviving,” he said. “But growth is not there.”
The tax burden
Part of the strain comes from government policy.
Facing rising public debt, Kenya has increased taxes and tightened revenue collection. Value-added tax, fuel levies and other charges have expanded in recent years.
The goal is to stabilize public finances. But for households and businesses, the impact is immediate.
“Everything has tax,” said Mary in Kayole. The result is less disposable income and a sense that the burden is growing heavier, even as official indicators improve.
Understanding the K-shape
A K-shaped recovery takes its name from the letter itself.
One arm points upward. That is the part of the economy that is growing, often driven by sectors like banking, telecommunications and tourism in the case of Kenya. These sectors benefit from investment, technology and global demand.
The other arm slopes downward or remains flat. That is where much of the population sits, particularly those in informal work, small businesses and lower-income households. In Kenya, both arms are visible.
Banks are reporting strong profits. Mobile money transactions continue to expand. Tourist arrivals are recovering. Diaspora remittances are high.
At the same time, informal workers are earning less in real terms. Small businesses face higher costs and weaker demand. Salaried workers are squeezed by taxes and rising living expenses.
“The economy is growing, but the benefits are not evenly distributed,” said Ken Gichinga, an economist based in Nairobi. “That creates a perception gap between the data and lived experience.”
For policymakers, the recent data offers reassurance. Inflation is under control. Growth is stable. Financial markets are calmer. But for many Kenyans, those gains feel distant.
“Numbers do not buy food,” said Mwangi, the boda boda rider. “We look at what we take home.”
That gap between official data and everyday reality has become one of the defining features of the current moment.
It is not that the recovery is false. It is that it is incomplete.
The psychological shift
Beyond the economics, there is a psychological dimension.
Households that once planned for the future are now focused on the present. Saving has given way to coping. Stability has been replaced by uncertainty.
“Unaishi siku moja moja,” Mary said. (You live one day at a time.)
Even those with stable incomes feel less secure. Unexpected expenses, from medical bills to school costs, can quickly upset fragile budgets.
The senior official who asked for $15 (KSh 2,000) is part of a system that sees the economy from above, through data, forecasts and policy frameworks.
Yet his request reflects the view from below.
In a K-shaped recovery, the divide is not always visible in titles or positions. It runs through households, across professions, and within the same city.
Kenya’s economy is working, in the sense that it is growing and stabilizing. But it is not working equally.
For now, that means a country where the numbers suggest progress, while daily life tells a more complicated story.
A recovery is underway. Just not in everyone’s pocket.
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Linda Ikeji (Nigeria)
Most Impactful Work: Her highly popular online platform, Linda Ikeji’s Blog.
Short Bio: Linda Ikeji is a Nigerian media entrepreneur and blogger who pioneered digital news publishing in Nigeria with her blog. What started as a gossip blog has evolved into one of the most visited news and entertainment platforms on the continent, making her a significant influencer in African media.
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