The Worth of Experience in Kenya Today

In Kenya, we were taught to believe that experience is gold. That if you worked long enough, if you collected enough years, your value would automatically rise. That the job market would respect you for the battles you have fought, the places you have served, the mistakes you have endured.

But last week, I sat in interviews that shook that belief to its core. Men and women with 5, 8, even 10 years of experience walked in, clutching their resumes with pride, only to accept salaries that would barely pay their children’s school fees. People who had returned from abroad, with exposure and networks, nodding quietly as they were offered wages not too far from what a fresh graduate could expect.

It wasn’t just one or two candidates. It was a pattern.

Experience Is Not Currency Here

We love to tell young people, “get experience first, then the money will come.” But what happens when the money doesn’t come? What happens when you realize that in the Kenyan market — especially in certain industries — your years don’t matter as much as the desperation around you?

A Chinese company will not pay you more because you’ve worked for 15 years. A local SME will not give you a bigger package because you’ve been loyal to your employer. Even NGOs, long seen as havens of good pay, are tightening belts and pushing wages down.

Because in their eyes, the question isn’t what are you worth? The question is how cheaply can we get you?

The Numbers Don’t Lie

Let’s talk real numbers.

In 2014, a mid-level sales executive with 5 years’ experience could expect around KES 70,000–90,000. Ten years later, in 2025, the same role often pays KES 80,000–100,000. On paper, it looks like growth. But in that same decade, the cost of unga has doubled, matatu fares have tripled, and school fees have skyrocketed. That “growth” is nothing but stagnation in disguise.
According to Paylab, 80% of sales reps in Kenya earn between KES 21,662–65,845/month, regardless of experience. Paylab
Returnees from the Gulf, for example, who managed sales teams or logistics worth millions of shillings abroad, often return to find Kenyan firms offering them KES 60,000–80,000 — citing that “the market here is different.” Their global exposure counts for little unless they land in rare fields like aviation, finance, or specialized IT, where international certification actually matters.
The same goes for schooling abroad. A degree from the UK, Canada, or Australia might impress at family gatherings, but many employers here don’t care. Unless you studied a niche field like medicine, architecture, or engineering, your expensive foreign degree might land you the same 50K–70K role as someone who studied locally. The difference? You’re carrying a student loan or years of family sacrifice behind that certificate.

The Real Sacrifices Behind “Experience”

Behind every year of work lies sacrifice. We rarely stop to count them:

Family time lost. Ten years in the office means you’ve missed birthdays, school events, countless evenings at home. Yet at the end, your bargaining chip is weaker than you imagined.
Student loans and family debt. Parents sell land, families take loans, and individuals drain savings to fund education or migration abroad. Many return only to find that the market does not reward their sacrifice.
Health and energy. Years of long commutes, late nights, stress, and unpaid overtime take their toll. Yet even after pouring your health into your career, the pay remains stagnant.

What is the value of 10 or 15 years when, after all this, the pay still cannot sustain the life you dreamed of?

The Illusion of Loyalty and Growth

Many people stay in jobs for years, thinking loyalty will be rewarded. They imagine that when they finally walk out, their years will translate into bargaining power. But outside, the world is brutal. Employers don’t see loyalty. They see someone desperate to prove that those years weren’t wasted.

A person who has stayed 10 years at one company, earning 80K, will often leave to find… another job paying 80K. Ten years gone, and your market value hasn’t shifted.

The Provocation

So here is the uncomfortable question: what is the true worth of your years?

If you can give 10, 15, 20 years of your life and still be forced to accept crumbs, what does that say about the system?

Maybe the painful truth is this — in Kenya, your years of experience don’t belong to you. They belong to the people who profit from undervaluing you.

And that is the most devastating bargain of all.

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