As the first rays of the morning sun grace Nairobi, it illuminates a city of stark contrasts.
On one side there are Kenyans waking up from luxurious penthouses that meet the city’s skyline, while on another side, millions of people from tattered rooftops.
It is a narrative that weaves through the threads of dining, schooling, and shopping to nightlife, where the rich and poor never cross on lifestyles. The wealthy person is eating a tiny portion of Chinese rice with shrimp and shredded prawns, served on a big plate, paired with red wine from South Africa in a newly-opened restaurant in Karen. Or sushi, a Japanese dish served in upmarket eateries.
Then another poor person is eating githeri (a mixture of maize and beans), unfried and has a whiff of firewood, paraffin or both, because the cost of cooking oil and gas has gone up. He sits in a crowded house in Umoja, enjoying the meal.
A friend invited me to spend a weekend at their home in Gigiri, where the rich sip their morning espressos while gazing upon a panorama of prosperity. Below them, streets teem with designer boutiques, five-star restaurants, and the ceaseless hum of commerce.
For those living in Gigiri, Muthaiga, Kileleshwa, Runda, Karen and Nyari and the like, mornings are ushered in by the gentle purr of luxury cars in private garages. Elegant townhouses, adorned with impeccable facades and meticulously manicured gardens stand as symbols of wealth. Behind closed doors, residents bask in opulence, with gleaming marble floors guiding them through hallways with priceless artwork. Kitchens equipped with over Sh5 million culinary innovations await, where private chefs cook and serve them as if they are in hotels
Luxury is not just an expectation, it is a way of life.
I wondered, almost out loud, why someone would have a Sh800,000 toilet. She said she loves it because it is intelligent—has a seat warmer, plays music and has a motion sensor that either raises or lowers the seat.
Now let us move to Eastlands or Thika Road or Kinoo where thousands of other Kenyans live. Here as the sun rises, life unfolds with simplicity. Modest apartments, bearing the marks of years of use, provide shelter to those with more modest means. It is the aroma of street food, mandazi, boiled sweet potatoes chapati, chicken legs and intestines, and chips mwitu, that fills the air as people embrace the joys of a simple breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The daily commute becomes a vibrant dance of pedestrians, rickety matatus, boda bodas and bicycles on the roads and sidewalks. Here every saved penny represents a small triumph in the face of economic constraints.
As someone who enjoys writing about food, I have been lucky to visit very fancy five-star restaurants and have meals prepared by private chefs, some flown in just a day before, to cook for people willing to pay Sh20,000 for a meal. In these places, they make food like it is an art. Every bite you take is like discovering a new flavour, with unusual ingredients, good wine, and delicious desserts that make the meal feel extraordinary. It is not just eating; it is like having a special experience where the taste stays with you for a long time.
On the other hand, for those who have less money to spare, meals are more about getting the nutrients they need rather than enjoying extravagant treats. Is the food affordable? Yes. Is it easy to get? Yes. Then they buy it.
As the cost of foods and commodities rise daily, the gap between the poor and the rich keeps growing wider that one wonders how many decades it would take for a person living in Kariobangi now to dine in a Villa Rosa Kempinski or Hemingways or The Norfolk Fairmont or The Social House or Fairview Hotel.
Clothes and accessories are another socioeconomic divider. For the who's who in Nairobi, clothes are more than just functional attire; they signal social status, wealth, and cultural belonging.
For the affluent, what is in their wardrobes are high-end fashion brands, custom-tailored suits, and exquisite jewellery. They easily pay Sh74,000 for a shoe in an upmarket stock, then stack it among 55 other similar pairs.
Conversely, for the poor and lower-middle class, clothing becomes a matter of practicality and affordability. They shop in Kibera’s Toi Market or Kawangware or Gikomba, sometimes lucky enough to get branded attire and sometimes knockoffs. But they buy, irrespective. The purpose is to cover nakedness.
For clubbing, you would excuse me if I say I have not partied in a poor man's club.
"Book a VIP table and permit us to carry you in our VIP limousine from your doorstep.. Each VIP table comes with a free bottle of champagne,” the invite read.
I chose to wear a black jumpsuit, and my friend a floral one.
At this club, dollars fall like confetti. Real dollars. Since when did we start paying in dollars yet we are in Kenya? I wonder.
From the cars parked outside, those who come here for a drink have deep pockets. Besides Nigerians who make up a sizable number of revellers, I spot Kenyans. But I cannot mingle with them, I feel like they belong to another tribe; they are rich, and I am middle-class.
The clock hit 1 pm and the slender-ish women straddled the pole. Being a girl from the village, and having never seen pole dancers, I was in disbelief. My mind raced to Los Angeles night. I have never been to Los Angeles either but I have seen it in movies.
“I like it here,” my friend turned and told the gentleman sitting next to us.
