For decades, Maasai Market has been a visual reminder of Kenya’s rich cultural heritage, a place where handmade crafts, beadwork, baskets, and fibre products tell stories of African traditions and artistry.

Today, behind the brightly-coloured and polished wood carvings, traders are quietly battling shrinking incomes, insecurity, and an unforgiving economy. 

Antonio Kioko, a trader dealing in shoes, bags, and T-shirts, remembers how the market was born during the Moi era. 

“The market started during the reign of Moi, and back then, it wasn’t for making a living. It was part-time. People would come to showcase their talent and creativity.

It was more fun than business,” says Kioko, giving historical depth of the Maasai Market. 

With time, as the economy tightened, the market shifted from a cultural showcase to a matter of survival. 

“Our main clients were wazungu (foreign tourists), but with rising insecurity and political unrest, tourism went down. Since then, our market has never been the same,” he says. 

Antonio adds that the Maasai Market ecosystem includes both traders and suppliers. Traders rely on suppliers for stock, but with low sales and cash flow problems, even that chain is breaking. 

Messy market 

“Sometimes, a whole day goes without any sales. That means you can’t pay your supplier or restock. It’s a tough cycle,” he reveals. 

John Musili, another trader who has sold beaded bangles and handbags for over ten years, says business has never been this ‘worse’. 

“Since the protests started, tourists are no longer coming. I can spend a whole day without selling even a bracelet, but life doesn’t stop. I still need to pay for transport, market space, my children’s school fees, and food,” said Musili. 

Veteran trader Omamo Moses has been in the business for 32 years, selling baskets sourced from across Africa. His frustration mirrors everyone’s sentiment. 

“Tourists used to be our lifeline. Now they’re gone, and the government keeps disorganising our market days. We operate at Village Market on Fridays, Junction Mall on Thursdays, Sun Kamy on Saturdays, and 

Yaya Centre on Sundays, but even then, sales are low. After paying rent for the stalls, storing our products and transport, we’re left with nothing,” he explains. 

Among those hardest hit is Moses Irungu, who has been selling fibre products at Maasai Market for over 20 years.

Irungu’s pain goes beyond poor sales. He openly questions Nairobi Governor Johnson Sakaja’s decision to relocate them from their established spot near the High Court. 

“Governor Sakaja sent us away from the High Court where we sold our wares for years, claiming it was for our good. But the new place floods when it rains, it turns muddy, and nobody comes to buy,” Irungu says bitterly. 

Like others, Irungu sympathises with the recent Gen Z protests, saying it’s the only way for ordinary Kenyans’ voices to be heard. 

“If taxes aren’t reduced and the economy fixed, none of us will survive. I’m now selling my stock at a loss just to get something small to eat. I don’t even know how I’ll restock. I can’t feed my family, yet I must keep coming here hoping for a miracle,” he says. 

Another long-time vendor who has seen both good and bad days is Fred Gitonga, who began his business back in 1993. He says the market’s current situation is unlike anything he has seen in years. 

“We used to make enough money to pay school fees, rent and support our families. Now, we barely make a living. The government needs to listen to Gen Z and address their demands because when young people suffer, the economy suffers, and we traders feel the heat directly,” says Gitonga. 

Despite the hardship, traders at Maasai Market continue to open their stalls daily, clinging to the hope that peace, stability and prosperity will one day return and better days will come.

Many are turning to social media and local networks to market their products while praying for political stability and an improved economy, though the returns remain modest. 

“We just need calm and for the government to listen. Without peace, there’s no business, and without business, there’s no life for us,” says Musili.