“I don’t make enough to save” is the most dangerous fairy tale Nairobians tell themselves before diving headfirst into another weekend of nyama choma, beer, and Fuliza. It’s the excuse that keeps many chained to poverty while inflation, landlords, and debt collectors laugh all the way to the bank.

The truth is uncomfortable: the problem isn’t always income—it’s lifestyle. Nairobi is home to employees earning six figures who are still broke by the 20th of every month, while others earning far less quietly accumulate land in Kitengela, grow their SACCO shares, and invest in small side hustles. What separates the two? Discipline and priorities.

Take Fuliza, for instance. Safaricom’s overdraft facility is the biggest lender in Kenya, advancing over Ksh 700 million daily. That’s not survival money—it’s proof of a city addicted to borrowing to fund lifestyles it cannot afford. People who “can’t save” somehow find the courage to live in Ubers, buy iPhones, and spend 3,000 bob on goat ribs every Saturday.

Rent tells the same story. Nairobians stretch beyond their means to live in Kilimani, Kileleshwa, or Westlands, convinced that proximity to Java will turn them into millionaires. Meanwhile, their salaries scream Umoja, Pipeline, or Rongai. By the third week of the month, they are eating Indomie while praying for M-Pesa reversals.

Let’s not forget the entertainment budget. The same person who insists saving is impossible pays for Netflix, Showmax, Spotify, and DSTV—simultaneously. They are proud to fund billionaires’ empires while claiming they can’t put away 1,000 bob into a money market fund. Poverty here is not just financial—it’s philosophical.

Statistics from the Central Bank show that Kenyans save less than 10% of their income, far below the global average of 20–25%. Yet, betting firms collect billions each year, with youth spending an average of KSh 2,500 per month on bets. We claim risk is the reason we don’t invest, but happily throw money at jackpots with worse odds than finding snow in Garissa.

Inflation doesn’t care for our excuses. Unga prices have doubled in the last decade, fuel continues climbing, and rent never takes a holiday. Yet many Nairobians refuse to adjust their lifestyles. Instead of cutting costs, they take more loans, trapping themselves in debt cycles where Fuliza, Tala, and Branch dictate their survival.

The wealthy treat money as a worker. It doesn’t sleep, it doesn’t take matatus or Ubers, it doesn’t need nyama choma. When placed wisely, it multiplies silently. The average Nairobian, however, treats money as a toy—blowing it for dopamine hits, then complaining about the government when rent knocks.

Excuses don’t pay bills. Not landlords, not supermarkets, not hospitals. And certainly not your retirement. Retirement for many Nairobians will not be golden years—it will be a nightmare funded by nothing but regret. Because the truth is simple: if you can’t save at 20K, you won’t magically save at 200K. You’ll just upgrade your broke habits to Carnivore ribs, Uber Select rides, and Kilimani apartments.

Real wealth is boring. It’s cooking ugali at home instead of KFC wings. It’s taking a matatu today so you can own an Uber fleet tomorrow. It’s living in Pipeline now so you can build in Syokimau later. The flashy sacrifices dignity for likes; the wise sacrifice ego for assets.

So the next time you say, “I don’t make enough to save,” take a good look at your lifestyle. Look at your nyama choma bill, your Uber receipts, your 6K rent above your pay grade, and your iPhone on loan. Then say it again—with a straight face.

Because here’s the cruel truth: Nairobi doesn’t care about your excuses. It only rewards those who respect their money. The rest? They will keep posting “soft life” selfies financed by debt, while quietly building a retirement plan for Safaricom and banks.

Saving isn’t about income. It’s about humility. And humility, in Nairobi, is the rarest currency of all.