Unforeseen expenses: What Kenyans struggle to budget for

It is difficult to manage your finances. Even without the bleak economic outlook, and the stubborn unga prices, budgeting one’s meagre earnings is difficult. There is always something that will demand your financial attention at the most inopportune moment, forcing you to use the common expression, “Acha nione vile ntafanya.” Here are some sneaky expenses that make it difficult for Kenyans to budget their finances accordingly:

It is nearly impossible to budget properly for a move. There is always something that comes up at the last minute, a random expense that you could not have foreseen, and which messes with your calculations. Maybe you realise, after moving in, that you have to pay an additional deposit, the curtains you bought are too short, and you have to fork out another 50k just so your neighbours don’t see you walking around naked.

Every parent understands the fundamental terror of going anywhere with their child. Beyond the constant threat of them embarrassing you, there is the looming possibility that they will see something, fall violently in love with it and refuse to stop screaming until they have it. It could be a shiny toy they play with once and then break it, or a cob of mahindi choma by the roadside. It could even be a stranger’s phone.

Does anyone ever pay dowry in full? I doubt it, because no one has ever shown me a receipt, and because I have heard a good number of married women complain that the 10 cows meant to serve as an introduction were never followed up. Haughty in-laws sit down and draw graphs and charts of how their daughter deserves cows, goats and an additional Sh1.5 million, as well as a solemn promise to educate the rest of her siblings. Even if you showed up having met all their demands, they will still find a way to manufacture a loose Sh500k fine for knocking on the gate, or for smiling at her mother in a suggestive manner.

You can plan for many things, but a medical emergency is not one of them. Even if your own health is good, the gods seem to visit maladies on aunties and grandparents seemingly at random. So you might have squared Sh20,000 somewhere with the idea of kupea mwili pole, only to receive an urgent message that cucu’s knees are clicking, and the hospital is asking for Sh10,000. Or you’re forced to fill a prescription with powerful kaswende medication, courtesy of a Juja babe.

The school holidays are a stressful period for most Kenyans, especially when kids hit that age where growth spurts make them eat like combined harvesters. Considering most of us struggle to provide during normal school terms, even just getting school fees alone, holidays may not be very enticing.

It is a blessing to own a car. But then you’re rushing home to catch Kumkum Bhagya, and your car starts stuttering and emitting dry, hacking coughs in the middle of Thika Road. An hour later, one mechanic tells you your engine has epilepsy. A week later, a second mechanic tells you even the oil needs to be replaced. And finally, a third mechanic shakes his head and informs you that it might be cheaper to just buy a new car.

No one ever thinks about romance until January is rounding the corner. Few husbands maintain the pretence of courtship two babies later, or after the cows have successfully been transferred to the in-laws. So they are completely blindsided when the missus starts throwing out subtle threats; “I saw Richie took his girlfriend to Malindi last weekend. Must be nice.” So now the poor man starts thinking of getting the most expensive dinner na bei ya jioni.

A typical gas cylinder lives a charmed life; it can go three months without a hiccup, or even outlast a Nairobi relationship. But it can also sputter and check out after just a month of boiling githeri and beans. It is therefore impossible to budget for gas, because the damn things are as moody and unpredictable as a Nairobi girlfriend.

People just won’t stop getting born! It’s an ongoing problem. Those September babies are particularly problematic; they start warning us even before August has handed in its notice. “It’s my birthday month!” And then, “It’s my birthday week!” Those reminders are as gentle as KRA emails, and just as stressful, because now you have to buy mzinga and a gift they will never use.

Another expense that will always take you by surprise is the small offering you have to make at the altar of corruption if you find yourself on the wrong side of the law. Like if you were doing 10km/h over the speed limit, or selling Gikosh wardrobe in the city streets, you’ll have to fold something crisp and hand it to the ‘utumishi kwa wote’ representatives.

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