At first glance, a fashion show in Gikomba might sound contradictory. Kenyan fashion today is increasingly guided by two major trends: local production that uses local materials and workforce and then comes sustainability. Sustainability, in this context, rests on four key pillars: upcycling, recycling, traceability, and ethical production. Yet, Gikomba is one of the country's biggest contributors to textile waste and a go-to location as advertised lately.
As Africa Collect Textile once put it, "It is a sea of waste disguised as an opportunity." Nearly 500 containers of used textiles arrive in Kenya every month, with around 40% of their contents being unusable and unsellable items that end up in landfills. The truth is that the waste generated by fast fashion and questionable manufacturing practices has already reached our doorstep.
The emerging ideology seems to be: if we cannot completely stop it, we should at least mitigate the risk of further damage. That's where initiatives like the Gikomba Runway Show come in. The idea is to showcase the hidden potential of Gikomba-to prove that creativity and sustainability can coexist, even in unlikely spaces. Influencers promoting thrifting and designers building collections from second-hand clothes are doing commendable work in pushing this narrative.
However, not everyone is convinced. Some critics argue that initiatives like the Gikomba Runway are inherently contradictory, perhaps even evidence that we are losing the plot once again. After all, Gikomba exists largely due to trade agreements that allow the importation of second-hand clothes into Kenya. In less diplomatic terms, these deals enable foreign nations to dump their textile waste and imperfect product in African countries. If these garments are deemed unfit for use elsewhere, why are they acceptable here? Don't African consumers have the right to goods and services of good quality?
By celebrating Gikomba through glamorous showcases, are we inadvertently endorsing these backdoor policies or agreements that undermine Kenya's own textile industries and artisanship?
Environmental scholar James Dyke once remarked that our current climate solutions are akin to "drinking poison every day but feeling reassured because we have an antidote to slow its effects." Repurposing items from Gikomba may be a temporary fix, but when this practice begins to be romanticized as culture, it becomes problematic. What was once a survival mechanism risks mutating into a cultural identity. It is one that subtly erodes Kenya's true fashion potential, grounded in locally sourced materials and techniques.
In Dyke's words, the poison is being ingested-but now, it's being celebrated. What we call "innovation" might, in fact, be a circumstantial response to deeper structural problems.
This brings us to a second point: Gikomba's success story is often framed as an opportunity, but only insofar as it allows low-income earners to survive.
Realistically, it reflects a wider social and economic inequality. Consider who shops where. Retail outlets such as Woolworths, LC Waikiki, or Mr. Price sell imported items presented as premium, high-end goods. Meanwhile, many Kenyans shop in Gikomba out of necessity, not choice. Their purchasing habits are shaped by income, and income is shaped by opportunity-or the lack thereof.
Behind this dynamic lies the urban-rural divide, limited job access, and underemployment. University graduates, even with good qualifications, are not spared. According to the 2023 KNBS report, youth aged 20-29 make up the highest share of unemployed Kenyans with over 1.6 million jobless individuals. Many are unfortunately recent graduates. Most find themselves stuck in a loop of job applications, unpaid internships, or casual labor.
In this context, celebrating spaces like Gikomba without addressing the underlying inequalities that makes it so essential, is like painting over cracked walls. It looks good from afar, but the cracks remain.
The goal of this reflection isn't to take sides. It is to give the bigger picture to encourage nuanced thinking from a policy perspective. The viability of a response to crisis doesn't depend on its perfection, but on its adaptability. Effective solutions are not necessarily those that maximize outcomes, but those that optimize them-acknowledging limits, testing ideas, and refining approaches.
Both supporters and critics of the Gikomba Runway must keep an open mind. Creating awareness takes many forms. A positive outlook can inspire progress, while a critical one can also spark necessary reform. Ultimately, both are needed to dream boldly, yet question honestly.
