Irony of Nairobi's marikiti, the foul-smelling fresh produce market

Wakulima market

Garbage strewn near the entrance to Wakulima market in Nairobi. 

Photo credit: File | Nation Media Group

What you need to know:

  • One of marikiti’s milestones was the killing of 6,000 rats in 2005 during a rare clean-up exercise
  • County workers who would usually give journalists the stink-eye become talkative once the subject of the market’s drainage and hygiene comes up

In a dark, dry corner of Wakulima Market, garlic from China sits in boxes piled high on top of each other, waiting to embark on the second half of a journey whose final destination is the millions of kitchens across the country.

The black “Star Garlic” boxes are the first hint that there is more to Nairobi’s premier market, popularly known as marikiti, than meets the eye.

It is Kenya’s largest wholesale fresh produce market. In addition to the Chinese garlic, the market’s inventory includes apples from France, oranges from Tanzania and onions from Uganda.

Just over two weeks ago, traders took to the streets to protest the steep rises in service fees contained in the Nairobi City County 2013 Finance Act.

The agitated traders vented their frustration, not only over the higher fees but also because of the squalid conditions.

“There is a high level of corruption, and over the years we have not seen the fruits of the fees we pay to the government. We are afraid the situation will remain the same even after the increment,” said Mr Cyrus Kaguta.

The county government later capitulated, suspending the implementation of the new rates pending talks with the traders that are still going on.

But even more worrying are the deplorable conditions in which these traders work, despite the central role they play in ensuring a steady supply of fruit and vegetables to the city’s teeming millions.

One needs walk through marikiti where the reek of rotting farm produce hangs heavily in the air to understand what the businesspeople have to endure on a daily basis.

The market was built in 1966 to serve Nairobi’s still rather small population. In 1992, 2,000 traders called the market home. Two years ago, city council estimates indicated that the market housed at least 10,000 traders — not counting the thousands of shoppers who stream in from the four corners of the county.

Space has become prime currency that is shared and inherited among friends and family. A few lucky people have plied their trade from the same shaded, dry spot for more than a decade.

“Space is hard to find in marikiti. Even the spot beside the rubbish heap is a good place to sell from for some people,” said Ms Lucy Kinga, who has sold onions at the market for the last 30 years.

To get parking space in the market in the morning, lorries laden with farm produce must arrive in the city the night before. They have to hold their spots in queues overnight or find themselves relegated to the backstreets of downtown Nairobi.

Over the years, the market has crept beyond its boundaries and spilled into Haile Selassie Avenue.

During the dry season, marikiti is dusty with pockets of dampness. When the clouds open up, the rain washes sweat of indeterminate age off the brows of porters, masks the stench of urine from the washrooms at the edge of the market and mixes the rotting fruit and vegetables underfoot to create a black sludge the consistency of yoghurt.

SEA OF SLUDGE

Due to poor drainage, this sludge can reach the ankles of an average-height adult and the knees of a small child. Gumboots, on days such as these, are the footwear of choice. But for the unwary, a visit to the shoe-shiners — who make a handsome living off the market’s core business — is mandatory.

One of marikiti’s milestones was the killing of 6,000 rats in 2005 during a rare clean-up exercise. A couple of hours at the market will inform any keen observer that a new generation of rodents has set up house.

Camera-shy county workers who would usually give journalists the stink-eye become talkative once the subject of the market’s drainage and hygiene comes up.

They have, they funereally declare, been forced time and again to dig into their pockets to buy a new pair of gumboots. Working in a stinking, congested market is enough to shake even the most stiff-nosed government employee.

The economic standing of marikiti’s clientele is as diverse as the geographical origin of its produce. Retailers who buy produce from the market feed a significant percentage of Nairobi residents.

And the businesspeople who frequent the market are not just the round-the-corner kiosk owners or estate mama mbogas. The traders say their customers include Nairobi’s glitzy restaurants and hotels. When the Sunday Nation visited, a high-end four-wheel-drive vehicle was parked on the edge of a pond of rotting fruit.

Farmers or their middle-men bring in produce on a daily basis. However, most do not sell their own goods, choosing instead to engage the services of brokers to reach their customers.

Mr Alfayo Maina has been a broker for the last 11 years and deals mainly with banana growers from Gusiiland. Although not from the region, Maina converses fluently in Ekegusii, which he has picked up over the years.

“I sell the bananas on behalf of the farmers because I know the market and customers better than they do” he said.

As it goes through the supply chain, the price of a medium-sized bunch of bananas grows from the Sh300 paid to a farmer by the middle-man to the Sh600 which Alfayo’s customers have to part with. Of this, Alfayo will take home between Sh50 to Sh100 for each bunch he sells.

Porters are the market’s beasts of burden. The sight of two men labouriously pulling and pushing a cart dangerously laden with seven 110-kg sacks of potatoes, which translates to nearly a tonne of raw chips, is a most common sight in marikiti.