Kenya’s informal economy is not just a shadow system operating alongside the formal sector – it is the lifeblood of the nation’s cities, towns, and rural trading centers.
At the heart of this sprawling, unregulated ecosystem are millions of women.
From hawking fresh produce on bustling street corners to managing hair salons in improvised kiosks, women are not merely participants—they are the backbone of this vital sector.
According to the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS), most women workers, approximately 85 per cent, work in the informal sector. This figure underscores both their numerical dominance and systemic vulnerability.
This overwhelming participation reflects a broader trend in many developing economies where formal employment opportunities are scarce, and cultural, educational, and structural barriers disproportionately affect women.
But while these women provide indispensable goods and services that sustain communities – especially in urban settlements and peri-urban areas – they operate with little to no social safety net. They are, in effect, economic first responders without recognition, protection, or reward.
The Realities on the Ground: Lives at the Edge
Take Gikomba Market in Nairobi, one of East Africa’s largest open-air markets. Here, Asha, a secondhand clothes vendor, starts her day before dawn.
“I have four kids. This job feeds them and pays school fees. But if I get sick, I have no backup,” she says.
Asha’s experience reflects a common plight—working without health insurance, pension contributions, or access to affordable credit.
Such precarity is not unique. The informal sector thrives on resilience and improvisation but remains vulnerable to even minor economic shocks.
The COVID-19 pandemic laid this bare. Movement restrictions, curfews, and supply chain disruptions brought informal trade to a standstill.
Millions of women like Asha lost their only source of income overnight, with little to no cushioning from government safety nets.
“We were told to stay home, but hunger doesn’t stay home,” she adds—a poignant summary of the cruel trade-off between public health directives and survival in the informal economy.
Innovation Amid Adversity
Despite the challenges, women in Kenya’s informal sector are not passive victims of circumstance. They are organizers, entrepreneurs, and innovators.
Many form chamas—informal savings groups that provide microloans, insurance, and even mentorship.
“My chama helped me buy a fridge. Now I can sell cold drinks and make more money,” says Beatrice, a kiosk owner in Thika.
These groups fill the gap left by banks, state institutions, and development agencies. They function as alternative financial ecosystems, fostering collective responsibility and business growth.
Moreover, women in the informal economy often train each other in skills, share market intelligence, and support newcomers—creating interdependent networks that serve as both economic engines and social safety nets.
Despite their economic significance, women in the informal sector remain largely invisible to policymakers.
Legal protections are sparse, and national economic planning continues to overlook this demographic.
Organizations such as FIDA Kenya and the Women’s Empowerment Link have called for targeted interventions—micro-pension schemes, health insurance tailored for informal workers, and gender-inclusive access to capital.
Economists argue that formalizing and supporting these women could have transformational impacts. If Kenya formalised and supported the women in the informal sector, Kenya’s GDP would grow significantly.
In effect, ignoring this sector is not just a social justice issue—it is a macroeconomic blunder.
Emerging Reforms: Symbolic or Substantive?
The Kenyan government has taken steps in recent years, including digitising market payments, expanding the Hustler Fund for microloans, and proposing universal health coverage for low-income households.
However, critics argue these measures are still piecemeal and inconsistent, often failing to address the unique barriers women face, such as lack of collateral, mobility restrictions, or discriminatory lending practices.
What’s needed is a paradigm shift: one that treats informal women workers not as marginal participants but as core contributors to the economy.
This involves not just including them in economic planning but actively reshaping policies around their realities.
Recognising and supporting women in the informal economy is more than an act of justice—it is a strategic imperative.
It means acknowledging their labor as legitimate, valuable, and deserving of state protection. It also means rethinking Kenya’s development model to be inclusive, gender-sensitive, and resilient to future shocks.
From market stalls in Kibera to roadside kiosks in Kisumu, women are running micro-economies that serve millions.
They are the unsung architects of everyday survival. Their success or failure is not a niche concern—it is central to Kenya’s social stability and economic growth.
