How CBD’s evictions shook city’s economy

The Nairobi Central Business District (CBD) is slowly regaining order after a major crackdown by county authorities that saw thousands of hawkers who had taken over walkways and pavements vanish.

The once-crowded sidewalks are now clear, restoring ease of movement and a sense of structure within the capital’s heart, despite an overwhelming presence of dirt. But as the city breathes, thousands of livelihoods suffocate in silence, with ripple effects already being felt across sectors of the economy.

Previously, hawkers had turned the city’s footpaths into a microeconomic engine, offering everything from sardines and sweets to second-hand clothes and phone accessories.

With shortage of jobs in the country, hawking was more than just a survival tactic for most Kenyans — it is the foundation of their family’s financial stability. But after the eviction of over 5,000 hawkers, with a few permitted to remain under strict conditions, the informal ecosystem they had built began to crumble.

Florence Akinyi, not her real name, is a single mother of three who once juggled multiple roles in a single day — shoe shiner in the morning, omena and clothes vendor by afternoon. On a good day, she would made over Sh2,000.

Her weekly income of Sh12,000 comfortably covered rent, school fees, and savings. But since the sweep, she’s lost more than just her business space.

She has since moved to a smaller house, let go of the few workers who helped her manage customer overflow, and can no longer guarantee school fees for her children — two of whom may soon relocate upcountry for cheaper education.

“We used to eat well, plan our lives, pay rent on time. That’s all gone,” she says.

John Kamau, also using a pseudonym for fear of the authorities, shared a similar plight. A hawker of sweets and snacks, he could previously make Sh5,000 daily — enough to pay for two children in college and university. Now, both children have taken up part-time jobs to help with their tuition. “I used to send money home to my parents regularly — for medicine, farm workers, everything.

That’s no longer possible,” he says. The workers he supported on his parents’ farm were dismissed, multiplying the wave of joblessness.

Their stories are closely linked to the knock-on effect on several sectors of the economy. Hence the financial blow to the economy from the crackdown is undeniable.

With hawkers reportedly taking home an average of Sh1,000 daily, the sector was contributing upwards of Sh5 million every day to these families — approximately Sh150 million monthly.

Including night shifts, which many hawkers relied on to serve late-working Kenyans and travelers, the figure could easily double, putting the monthly earnings of over Sh300 million.

Tightly-knit supply chain

This was money that moved fast, touching farmers, transporters, small-scale manufacturers, and food vendors in a tightly knit supply chain.

The informal sector’s vibrancy meant hawkers operated seasonally and flexibly, adapting to changing consumer needs with unmatched agility. Whether it was selling umbrellas during the rainy season or warm clothes during Nairobi’s cold spells, they played an integral role in distributing goods quickly and affordably. Their presence brought convenience to low-income earners who couldn’t afford formal retail prices or didn’t have the time to visit larger markets.

Many Nairobians also relied on hawkers for quick meals during work breaks, supporting local hotels and food joints that benefited from the influx of informal traders.

“We always ensured we ate well. Our work involved running around the city, and we spent money on food daily,” Akinyi says.
The disappearance of this customer base has since translated into slower business for eateries within the CBD. Bus operators have also been impacted, with evening trips winding up early as city traffic dwindles by 8:30 PM.

The shockwave extends into manufacturing, with hawkers having served as a direct distribution channel for fast-moving consumer goods like matchboxes, soaps, bottled juices, and even pesticides. Their absence shrinks market demand, prompting producers to adopt cost-cutting measures that often lead to layoffs. This spirals back to the very problem the crackdown was meant to fix — unemployment.

For the affected hawkers, the biggest frustration is not just the loss of income but the lack of viable alternatives since they were used to the trade and area of operation.

Government-run markets are already congested, and many are located far from the CBD’s lucrative customer traffic. Hawkers argue that instead of eviction, Nairobi County should have developed a framework to accommodate them — designated stalls, timed shifts, or even mobile permits.

“If you wanted to find the hardest working people in Nairobi, it is the hawkers. We worked round the clock, we never begged, and we paid our way through life,” says Akinyi. Now, she fears the rise in idleness among the city’s youth, warning that joblessness could easily escalate into insecurity. “When someone is tired from running up and down all day, all they want is a hot meal and rest — not crime. But what do you expect now that many have nothing to do?”

With the informal sector estimated to employ over 80 per cent of Kenya’s workforce, its disruption carries far-reaching consequences. Analysts argue that rather than displace hawkers, government policies should focus on formalizing and regulating their operations. That way, their income could be taxed reasonably, infrastructure better maintained, and urban order sustained without extinguishing livelihoods.

Shuttered dreams

Hawkers are now appealing for the establishment of county-managed stalls within the CBD — a middle ground that could accommodate their needs while respecting public order. “We’re not asking for charity. We’re just asking for space to work and provide for our families,” Kamau pleads.

As Kenya grapples with an unemployment crisis and a high cost of living, policymakers face a dilemma — one that pits urban modernization against human survival.

In clearing the city streets, Nairobi may have restored a sense of visual order, but in the process, it has created invisible wounds — wounds felt in empty dinner plates, unpaid school fees, shuttered businesses, and broken dreams.

Much as the city looks better, but are its people doing better? For many of those swept off the sidewalks, the answer is a painful one.

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