Kenya’s Informal Sector Suffers Due To Pandemic 

Shreya Srivatsa

May 11, 2020

Martin Makau in front of his Kiosk. April 2020.

Martin Makau stands in front of his Kiosk in Loresho, Nairobi from 6 a.m to 5 p.m. every day. A bunch of semi-rotten bananas and homemade chapatis are all he has left to offer. He waves at commuters and passersby, in an effort to grab their attention, hoping to make at least $2 for the day. 

“I can’t even explain...it has been very difficult. I have no capital...I can’t buy anything for my shop,” says Makau, 50, the owner of the roadside kiosk. Makau’s business has suffered significantly due to the pandemic, and his income has decreased due to the lack of sales. He used to make up to Ksh800 ($8) a day, now he struggles to make Ksh300 ($3). 

As Kenya reports 672 Coronavirus cases, including 31 deaths, the country’s government has imposed a 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. curfew, strict social distancing rules, and a lockdown in some parts of the capital. These orders have left a large part of Kenya’s economy, its informal sector, vulnerable and deprived of basic necessities, as people struggle to keep businesses afloat. 

Martin Makau’s business is a part of Kenya’s informal sector or “Jua Kali Sector,” which accounts for 83.6% of the country’s economy and employs around 15 million people. “Jua Kali,” which means “Hot Sun” in Swahili, refers to the informal artisans who work in difficult environments. These businesses include metal fabrication shops, textile stores, carpentry workshops, restaurants, transportation (such as motorcycle taxis and busses), etc. 

The informal sector is facing a cash-flow shortage, making it difficult for people to sustain and continue running their businesses, says Richard Muteti, the CEO of the Kenyan National Federation of Jua Kali Associations. “Less orders have resulted in less business leading to a shortage of jobs,” he says, over a phone call.  

Paul Wanji, 25, an employee at a roadside canteen, says their business has been suffering for the last two months. “You can see it yourself… there’s barely anyone here.”  The canteen, which used to feed around fifty customers each day, is now serving less than twenty people. As a result of the 7 p.m. curfew, Wanji hasn't been able to serve supper to his customers, one of his biggest streams of revenue. This has caused the owner of the canteen to order two of his four employees to “stay at home” and stop working. 

In addition to the lack of sales, obtaining supplies has been a challenge for Wanji. Since President Uhuru Kenyatta’s announcement on the ban of movement in and out of Nairobi, it has been difficult for them to acquire key ingredients, such as potatoes, which are used to make their famous “chips” (french fries). Although the ban doesn’t include food supply or cargo operations, it has caused significant delays in deliveries. 

Wanji and Makau are both people who live on a day-to-day basis similar to many others in the Jua Kali Sector. “These are people who earn as they work... if you work you earn something then you get something. If you have no business then you have no money and no food,” says Muteti.

A decrease in income has made it nearly impossible for Wanji to make ends meet. He has not been able to pay rent for the last two months. “I gave them what I have...they are very understanding because they know it’s a hard time now,” he says, in regard to his landlord. “Things have also started to cost more money,” he adds, talking about food and transportation. 

The canteen is over a half an hour drive from Wanji’s home. He usually takes a Boda Boda (motorcycle taxis) or a Matatu (local busses) for his commute. The fare, which used to cost less than a Ksh100, now costs anywhere from Ksh180-200 — a problem Martin Makau has also been forced to deal with. This is because busses that used to cram more than one person per seat are now seating one person per two seats to enforce social distancing. As a result, passengers are being made to pay for the fare of two seats instead of one.

Makau compares himself to people such as Wanji and considers himself lucky as he’s built a small farm around his kiosk. The farm, only twice as big as the shop, has helped him grow food such as tomatoes, papaya, and herbs to feed his family of five. “I am very lucky I have farming experience,” he says, while standing next to a small field of sunflowers that he planted to make the kiosk “look more beautiful.”

Artist George Ongeri is in a similar position. He says his income has decreased by around 90% due to the pandemic. Ongeri, an artist and entrepreneur, sells frames, wood carvings, paintings, easels, and certain types of furniture in his roadside studio shack. “The market is usually unstable, but this is the worst it’s been,” he says. He and his wife are considering shutting down the other branch of their business, as they cannot afford to keep it running anymore. 

A significant decrease in Ongeri’s income has affected his household. Since his two children no longer attend school, due to the president's order to have them closed, he has had to provide food for his entire family. “We live on a very tight and low budget… we are only buying items that are completely necessary,” he emphasizes. 

Richard Muteti says the Jua Kali Association has appealed to the government to help small businesses, such as Ongeri’s, before they shut down. Muteti is encouraging the government to integrate the cash transfer program (to which they've allocated Ksh10 billion), where extremely poor and vulnerable citizens receive an online money transfer, with a food program for businesses in the informal sector. “We can’t send people to stay in their houses with no food and no income,” he says.

Additionally, the Jua Kali Association has helped numerous businesses during this time by adjusting their approach and trying to become a part of the solution. The association has helped businesses to produce materials and items that could be used in fighting the pandemic. Muteti says numerous metal fabricators are now manufacturing metal stands for water dispensers that are being used in workshops. Similarly, most people in the textile subsector have switched to making masks, aprons, caps, and other protective gear. Artisans are also making their own soaps and sanitizers.

Muteti‘s organization is looking at upscaling the metal and textile sub-sectors. They aim to increase employment and engagement in manufacturing pandemic-related products.

Although the government has received funds from The International Monetary Fund and the World bank, Muteti questions how the money will reach small businesses. The CEO, who left the call twice, in order to attend to COVID-related emergencies, says “we need to stop discussing business and think about survival.”

Artist George Ongeri doesn’t trust the government and believes that these funds may not be allocated to the right people or for the right reasons — a concern shared by many, as seen on Twitter where Kenyan users have started using the #MoneyHeist to address this issue. 

 “If you have a hopeless government, we can’t expect much from them. It’s everybody for themselves,” Ongeri says, as the government has not offered him or anyone he knows any financial support. Wanji and Makau also say they have not received any assistance from the government. 

Because of the proximity of houses in slums and people in workspaces, Muteti emphasizes the difficulty of practicing social distancing in the informal sector. Ongeri is afraid of the extent to which police will use “physical force” to enforce social distancing, as cases increase. As a form of protection, Ongeri uses his easels to create a barrier around his studio, preventing any visitors from entering.

“I was almost arrested the other day... in my own studio… as I wasn’t wearing a mask which made it hard for me to breathe,” he says. The cops had harassed him until his friend who worked at a nearby police station had helped clear his name, as the Kenyan government had made it mandatory to wear masks in public.

Muteti hopes social distancing and lockdowns don't go for long as “some people might start getting angry and restless,” leading to violence from the people of the informal sector, as they may have no other choice.  He says the Jua Kali Associations is gathering data and looking into financial and food assistance to help people before the situation sparks any crime or violence.  

Kiosk owner, Martin Makau, says he too is concerned about security. Makau’s shop is located in a wealthier part of Nairobi. He volunteers as a security guard for a government official who lives nearby. He is often sent to break up large groups of people and help maintain social distancing on the streets. He doesn’t get paid but continues to work in hopes of a tip or “at least a cup of coffee.”

Makau has done any job he can get in order to support himself and his family. “Times have changed...now I have to choose between buying a facemask or a packet of milk,” he says, lifting his torn mask off of his face. “I always tell my family...we have to be grateful and learn to be content with what we have.” 

As millions of people across Kenya continue to be affected by the pandemic, people such as Ongeri and Makau are bracing themselves for an uncertain future.