I am seated at a restaurant tucked away in one of Kikuyu's serene corners. The kind of place that feels like a well-kept secret: quiet, clean, surrounded by trees, reasonably priced, and with genuinely good food. It checks all the boxes—except one. It is empty.
And not just today. Most times I visit, I find it like this. Empty tables. Attentive but idle staff. A space waiting for energy, for life, for people.
Why is it so quiet?
Marketing? Maybe. Location? Could be. But maybe the real issue is this:
When was the last time you indulged in a so-called “luxury” in Kenya?
Let’s pause. Because this question isn't just about this restaurant. It's about the guitar class you dropped out of. The cozy coffee house you haven’t returned to. The art studio that shut down last month. The new hiking company that’s struggling to get bookings. The language school with amazing reviews but dwindling enrolments.
We keep asking: “Why are small businesses in Kenya suffering?”
But the harder, more uncomfortable question is: When was the last time you supported something you didn’t need, but simply loved?
The Myth of Necessity
We are good at paying for things we must pay for:
School fees
Rent
Food
Transport
Hospital bills
These are non-negotiables. But what about the negotiables?
A beautifully made cup of coffee
A Friday night spoken word event
A painting session for no reason at all
A language you’ve always wanted to learn
In Kenya, we often treat these things as luxuries we can’t afford. Yet these “luxuries” are someone else’s livelihood.
Everyone Wants Support, Few Give It
We complain that people don’t support our hustle, our art, our side business. But how often do we do the same for others? Especially in sectors that fall outside traditional necessities?
We want people to show up at our exhibition. But when was the last time you attended someone else’s? We want students to sign up for our classes. But when did you last sign up for one?
We say the economy is tight. And it is. But we also spend money every day. What we choose to spend it on says a lot about the kind of economy—and society—we’re building.
Not Just Consumption, But Participation
Indulging in a luxury is not just about spending money. It is about participating in someone’s vision, affirming someone’s work, and breathing life into an ecosystem that desperately needs it.
It is about understanding that:
That massage therapist is not just doing nails; she’s paying rent.
That open mic night isn’t just fun; it’s how artists grow their craft.
That empty restaurant is someone’s dream slowly fading.
Nairobi vs the Rest of Kenya: The Permission to Dream
Why do people feel they can dream in Nairobi in a way they can't in other towns? Nairobi has its problems, but it also has something many other towns in Kenya lack: a culture of indulgence, risk, and audience. There are more art galleries, theatre spaces, startup hubs, and Instagrammable cafés per square kilometer than anywhere else in the country. Not because Nairobians are richer—but because they spend.
Even in struggling times, Nairobians will spend KES 200 for entry to an art exhibition, KES 300 for a poetry night, or KES 500 for a yoga class in Karura. That willingness to engage—however small—creates room for dreams to live. It builds ecosystems.
Compare this to smaller towns where even KES 100 is considered a waste on anything non-essential. There, dreams die quietly. Not for lack of talent, but for lack of audience.
The American Dream: More Than Disposable Income
We like to say that Americans can afford to follow dreams because they have disposable income. True. But they also spend on things we hesitate over:
A $3 cup of coffee
$20 for a comedy show
$15 for an online painting class
They don't always have more—they're just more willing to spend on expression, art, leisure, and discovery. That culture of spending on the non-essential creates space for dreams to become businesses, and businesses to become industries.
What would happen if we shifted how we viewed indulgence in Kenya?
Are You Really Broke? Or Selectively Spending?
Many Kenyans say they are broke. But check our MPESA statements. The same person who won’t pay KES 250 for an art class will spend:
KES 500 for nyama choma and beer
KES 150 for daily mobile data bundles
KES 2,000 monthly on sports betting
KES 1,200 on unnecessary impulse buys
That’s not broke. That’s spending without alignment.
Here’s the truth: Most people can afford to do something that supports someone else’s passion or sustains their own, if they plan for it.
A Practical Guide to Affordable Indulgence in Kenya
If you want to participate in this new economy, here’s how to start:
For KES 150-300:
Visit Nairobi Gallery or Nairobi National Museum
Join a free or low-cost city walking tour
Attend a poetry night at PAWA254 or Alliance Française
Go to the park: Karura, Arboretum, City Park
Join a weekend book club (some are free, or just require a drink purchase)
For KES 500-1,000:
Take a beginner art class at Luna park or Nairobi Art Centre
Attend a music gig at Elephant or The Alchemist
Book a yoga or mindfulness session
Enroll in a 4-week guitar or dance class
Support a local theatre performance
Even for free:
Stream Kenyan podcasts
Promote someone’s hustle online
Attend free art viewings or public events
Volunteer at events, get in and learn
A Call to Small Luxuries
No, you don’t need to splurge every week. But maybe once a month, visit that quiet restaurant. Pick up that hobby again. Go for a local play. Gift someone a guitar class. Book a weekend walk in Karura. Join that book club.
Because the moment we stop feeding the parts of life that give color, creativity, joy, and connection—we lose them. And when they’re gone, we’ll ask, “What happened to all the nice places?”
They didn’t die. We just stopped showing up.
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