The Bakers Adventures

When you move to a new country, you expect some things to be cheaper and some things to be more expensive, but nothing prepares you for the reality until you’re standing in the supermarket doing currency math in your head and quietly gasping at the price of a chocolate bar. For anyone who doesn’t know, the current exchange rate is roughly 160 Kenyan shillings to £1, and that single number has become the subconscious calculator running in the back of my mind every time I pick something off a shelf.

Chocolate, for example, is basically treated like treasure. An Advent calendar here is close to £12. A standard selection box comes in at 1,435 KES, which is just under £9. A Terry’s Chocolate Orange bar is 925 KES, about £5.80. A tube of Jelly Tots is 678 KES, around £4.25. A twelve-pack of little Freddies is 1,979 KES, over £12. Back home, these are the things you grab without thinking when you’re doing a food shop, but here they feel like gifts you’d consider saving for a birthday.

Cheese is another shock. Imported cheese is extremely expensive, and the price of something as ordinary as almond milk made me blink twice: 699 KES, or roughly £4.40 for a carton. Meat isn’t cheap either, especially imported cuts, and toys are surprisingly pricey due to import taxes. I get the feeling toy shops don’t make nearly as much profit as people assume.. they’re just paying a premium before anything even hits the shelf.

Beyond the supermarkets and shopping centres, there is a whole other economy happening on the roadsides, markets, and makeshift stalls that seem to exist on every pavement and junction. Kenya is full of hustle, and I say that with respect. People are working.. hard.. and doing whatever they can to earn a living. Clothing stalls line the streets, often selling second-hand donated clothing from abroad. Some items are great, others are tired and clearly on their third or fourth lifetime, and while the prices are cheaper, there’s something that sits heavy in your stomach when you realise that taking the “cheap bargain” often means taking it from someone who genuinely needs every coin they can make that day.

And then there’s the other truth that I can’t sugarcoat: being a white person here changes the price of things. In Swahili the expression is “mzungu”, which essentially means “white person/foreigner”, and the moment you fall into that category, your price almost always goes up. I understand the logic. Expats are associated with money, and in many cases that assumption is accurate. People here are trying to survive, and I’m never angry at someone trying to feed their family, but it does sting when the price doubles simply because you stepped out of the car. My driver, Phoebe, often tells me, “Madam, you stay in the car. I will buy. It will be cheaper.” If I hop out hoping to buy some bananas..the tiny sweet ones that the girls and I call “weeners”…the price suddenly jumps. I find it sad because I would be a loyal customer if the price were consistent. I want to support the people working at the roadside, but when the cost changes depending on who’s asking and the quality is sometimes inferior to the supermarkets (which are only marginally more expensive), I understand why so many expats just don’t bother. When prices are displayed, it makes things easier and fairer for everyone, but at the small fruit stands and pop-up stalls you’re simply at the mercy of the person naming their price in that moment. When it’s small change I don’t argue, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel a bit deflating. Phoebe laughs and shrugs, “They will always assume you can afford it and try their luck,” and she’s right. It’s not personal…it’s survival.

Ubers are another surprise. A 45-minute drive to Village Market costs around 1,200 KES, which is about £7.50, and that still amazes me every time. Owning and running a car in Kenya is not cheap either. Phoebe has her car on a three-year loan and pays 30,000 KES per month, about £187, plus fuel costs, which are around 160 KES per litre.. roughly £1 per litre.. significantly higher than the UK. Insurance and maintenance add even more, so while a short ride seems cheap, the overhead of running a car is substantial.

Accommodation is another eye-opener. Our three-bedroom apartment with three bathrooms, three balconies, 24/7 security, solar eco-system, and a pool and gym on site costs us around £750 a month. Many people in this country don’t earn that in an entire month. The level of comfort, security, and extras you get for what we pay would be impossible in the UK for the same price.

Not everything makes your wallet wince, though. Fresh produce is generally very affordable. Oranges and apples cost around 250 KES, about £1.60. Tropical fruit is even cheaper and tastes far better than what I used to buy in the UK. Staples like rice, flour, and eggs are genuinely inexpensive, and bottled water ranges from 80–100 KES, which is around 50–63p. A 1.25-litre bottle of Coca-Cola is 100 KES, just over 60p. Try and make sense of this?

Then there are the things that are so inexpensive they make you appreciate the value system here. Labour and service are affordable, but also carried out with real pride. A house cleaner for a full clean is around 1,000 KES, about £6.25, and they’re normally with you for two or three hours. A private Swahili tutor is 2,000 KES for two hours, about £12.50. I had a manicure and pedicure that took three and a half hours.. including a paraffin wax treatment on my feet and the entire service came to 4,000 KES, roughly £25. Even then, it didn’t feel transactional. People here genuinely take pride in doing a thorough job.

For full transparency.. I had £250 to spend this month and in England I could burn through that in a week without even blinking. A couple of ASOS orders for a brunch with friends, a Tesco promotion pulling me in at the worst possible moment, brows, nails, a coffee here, a “you deserve it” there it disappears fast. But here, the same money has lasted me the month. Partly because I’ve had to say no to things I can’t justify, and partly because they just don’t feel important anymore. I bought self-wax strips and have been maintaining my eyebrows myself, and as long as I don’t let them grow wild, the shape stays intact. My nails are having a breather too, because the lovely manicure I treated myself to left them thin, bendy and over-filed. I’ll look forward to the small treats when I’m home again, but I don’t think I’ll build my income around them like I did before. I’ve invested more into my skin, and it feels like I’m on a financial and personal detox.. stripping back the noise, learning what actually matters, and letting this place change me in ways I wasn’t expecting. Long may that last.

Eating out varies massively. In expat-heavy areas like hotels and shopping centres, a meal ranges from 1,500 to 4,000 KES (£9.40–£25). A family meal can easily hit £80–£100 when you include drinks, starters, mains, dessert, and a small activity for the kids, like bracelet-making or slime painting. Kids who try to earn a living through small creative ventures are everywhere, and it’s lovely to support them when you can.

Living here has forced me to rethink the idea of cost and value. Some things I always assumed would be cheap are eye-wateringly expensive. Some things I barely considered before are now part of a system that feels intentional, respectful, and thoughtful. My chocolate cravings might take a beating, but my fruit bowl has never looked so colourful or tasted so vibrant. And more than once, I’ve found myself appreciating how far a few pounds can stretch when it’s placed into work that someone is genuinely proud to deliver.

This first month has taught me that the economics of life change drastically depending on where you stand. What feels cheap or expensive is relative to the world you come from, the world you live in, and the world you’re still learning to navigate. And here, every day, I’m still learning.. sometimes in the supermarket, sometimes by the roadside, and always while doing quiet currency conversions in my head, deciding whether a Terry’s Chocolate Orange is worth £5.80.