This is why Nairobi hawkers flee from city county askaris

City council askaris collect the clothes of a hawker who was allegedly shot on the head and killed by a policeman while busy selling his clothes near Khoja Mosque, Nairobi. Mr Peter Maina was a hawker and a part-time preacher in Nairobi. (PHOTO: MBUGUA KIBERA/ STANDARD)

It is Thursday evening. The time is 4:13pm. This writer is walking into a supermarket outlet along Moi Avenue in Nairobi.

Suddenly, a stampede ensues. Hawkers (as we refer to informal traders) run off in all directions clinging onto their wares.

For passersby, the sudden frantic movements can be scary and it is not uncommon to see many take cover - unsure of what is going on.

It is after the dust settles that one realises that the stampede was hawkers fleeing from city askaris. This cat-and-mouse game between hawkers and the city inspectorate officers is a norm.

And behind the stampedes and fracas lies a lot of confusion, splintered interpretation to trading laws and the sheer human will to eke a living from business.

“What else are we supposed to do?” asks John Mukuria.

His question paints the true picture of being jobless in a city where money is the cog that gets the wheel running.

John has been a hawker for 30 years now. He has had run-ins with the city inspectorate so many times he has lost count, he has paid fines and at times has been forced to proffer bribes.

“When the askaris nab you and tell you that they can abuse you and do anything to hurt you, because they have the power to do so, you will give them that which they want,” he says.

Even at moments when he felt repulsed by the officers and contemplated dropping everything and moving to the countryside, away from the chaos, he would meekly yield to their demands when he thought of his family.

John is a licensed informal trader. Which begs the question: Why does he have a lot of trouble carrying out what the law recognises by way of licensing?

“I do not only pay for the license, I have to grease the pockets of these officers when they come around. If I do not, they will apprehend me and charge me with false counts,” John says.

Some charges, like ‘dumping’, draw fines of not less than Sh50,000 and a jail term of two years. To which John exclaims: “My life is over!”

The profit he makes from hawking, John says, is meagre that he cannot contemplate being asked for Sh50,000. He will pay the Sh3,000 bribe instead of risking the jail-or-fine cliff hanger.

According to John the inspectorate officers have cast a net of power and control over hawkers. “We are at their mercy,” he says.

His colleagues, who we will call Fred* and Charles*, paint a similarly grim picture through their own experiences.

Fred turned 30 this year. He is educated and like many graduates who luck never smiled upon with a job, he became a hawker.

“Instead of becoming a robber I thought it well to make clean money. I quickly realised that the system – as it is right now within the city – does not want me to flourish even in this regard,” Fred says.

Fred has several scars on his scalp which he says were inflicted by irate city inspectorate officers when he refused to bribe for his freedom.

“They beat me up senselessly,” he says. For refusing corruption, this young man paid with pain yet all he was hoping for was a chance to conduct business freely.

Fred says many of his colleagues, especially the youthful traders who joined the sector recently, have been denied the hawking license.

“When you apply for the license, officers at City Hall will stifle it. They know they will still find you on the streets and that gives them a reason to arrest you and extort even more money from you,” he says.

However, according to Anna Othoro - County Executive in charge of commerce, tourism and cooperative service, Fred’s assertions are nothing more than heresy.

“We issue licenses to individuals who can clearly state what kind of business they want to engage in,” says Anna. “Those who are turned away have not satisfied the requirements to earn the license.”

She said the county has at the moment issued licenses to many informal traders and have since stopped issuing new ones in order to avert overcrowding.

“The number of licensed informal traders is about 3,000. We have cut down on the number of licenses issued because many were being abused – like through photocopying,” Anna says.

And so the back and forth goes. As John, Fred, Charles and their hawking colleagues point fingers at the county administration, the administration in turn is pointing their fingers at the hawkers.

Informal traders (hawkers), Anna says, are traders who by law carry their wares aloft as they sell. They are licensed to do business within restricted zones and cannot place their wares on the ground.

“The minute they put those wares on the ground they are breaking the law and can therefore be arrested to answer to the law,” Anna says.

Anna believes that the county administration has provided enough space to be used by hawkers.

It is the hawkers, she says, who deliberately leave their designated points, for the streets in central business district, where they are not supposed to be, a move informed by the feeling that customers are more along the pavements and on city streets. “I have met with hawkers themselves and they have admitted that they do not want to use the markets we have created for them,” Anna says.

She is adamant that hawkers cannot be allowed to subvert the law by using spaces where they are not licensed to operate from.

“Nairobians have to ask themselves what kind of Nairobi they want, is it one where pavements for people to pass are clogged by hawkers who are breaking the law or one with order,” she poses.

Enter Benta Njeri*, 25. Benta, according to her lawyer, Joseph Maina, never finished school. Hawking presented her with a chance to have a life.

Benta and her lawyer told Wednesday Life that she was denied a hawking license and was therefore forced to operate for eight years without one. That made her a prime target for inspectorate officers who relentlessly pursued her with a vengeance when she refused to pay bribes or play games.

Kimani Waweru, chairperson of Street Vendors Organisation, told us Benta has since gone into hiding.

“She has been threatened by senior inspectorate officers. They told her they will kill her if she is seen.

Someone like Benta, who faces the inspectorate in court, is threatening the enterprise of paying bribes to a cartel within the city hall, and they are hell bent on seeing that she is eliminated,” Kimani says.

Benta is currently battling five counts against her and it was only through a human rights organisation, that she was able to secure Maina’s services.

Fred adduces that hawkers have become hot cakes for city inspectorate officers.

“They see us and see money. They know we fear going to jail and are desperate for freedom. They know we cannot afford lawyers and do not have neither time nor resources for court battles. They know we have no option but to pay the bribe,” he said.

According to County Secretary and Head of County Public Service, Dr Robert Ayisi, hawkers are not supposed to be subjected to harmful beatings at the point of arrest.

“The askaris talk to them, read the law to them and if they have not complied we arrest them to be charged,” he says.

This might be what the law stipulates but Mukuria insists the reality on the ground is nothing like that.

“I have seen more than ten of my colleagues killed over the years I have been a hawker myself,” he says.

His sentiments are echoed by Kimani who says once an inspectorate officer pounces on a hawker, the result could be anything from the following: jail, death or maiming.

Dr Ayisi is, however, emphatic: “Our officers have been trained on customer relations and are undergoing culture change. They are forbidden from asking for and taking bribes.”

And so the circus continues as the city inspectorate says laws that govern use of city space must be followed and hawkers say all they want is to earn a living.

Who will provide the middle ground?