People take lunch at alongside University way road kiosk in Nairobi [File/Standard]
In this unforgiving economy, a decent lunch has become a luxury for many city dwellers. For Nairobi’s working class, lunchtime isn’t so much about eating as it is about strategically surviving the hour without spending a coin. With creativity, wit, and no small dose of humour, residents have devised ingenious ways to while away the break before heading back to their desks, wallets still intact. We sampled 10 hilarious ways city residents kill time over lunch…
Eating air burgers
A cult classic among broke Nairobians. Visit any public park, pavement, or shaded bench in the CBD around 1pm and you’ll spot groups basking in the sun, chatting aimlessly, or strolling about, seemingly content. What they’re really doing is having an “air burger”: no food, just vibes. Once the hour is up, they dutifully march back to work, hunger firmly ignored.
Attending lunch hour services
Churches in the city centre are often packed at lunchtime, not necessarily by the devout, but by the hungry. A powerful sermon and high-energy praise session offer a spiritual distraction from empty stomachs. Unfortunately, the pastor is often left high and dry; no offerings follow the hallelujahs, only swift exits back to office corridors.
Window shopping
It’s a common sight, people meandering through the aisles of boutiques and tech stores, admiring clothes and electronics they have no intention of buying. Some even try on items “just to check the size” or ask about prices “for comparison purposes”. Truth is, they’re just passing time until end-month payday, or the end of their break.
Exploring the city
New to Nairobi? The lunch break becomes your ideal sightseeing tour. Rather than spend on food, these urban explorers take to the streets, navigating hidden alleys and admiring unfamiliar landmarks. It’s a budget-friendly way to bond with vichochoro za jiji and get in your daily 10,000 steps.
Napping at the desk
Sleep deprivation meets poverty in this lunch-hour classic. Too broke to eat, too tired to chat, some workers simply nap at their desks. Alarms are set for 1:50pm sharp, and if the office is quiet enough, it’s a blissful hour of drooling dreams. Bonus: they return to work ‘recharged’, at least mentally.
Catching fresh air
Some opt for nature’s free therapy: fresh air. These are the balcony walkers, courtyard loiterers, and compound wanderers who take lunch hour as an opportunity to breathe something other than recycled office air. It’s a minimalist ritual, often mistaken for a smoke break, but fuelled purely by oxygen.
Moshene
As soon as the clock hits 1pm, she’s off, not to the café, but to the fourth-floor gossip base where her moshene buddy is. These unofficial ‘mtaa FM’ sessions are sacred: politics, colleagues’ romantic lives, and weekend plans are dissected with forensic detail. The same gossip circle meets like clockwork, rain or shine.
The hustler’s hour
Some turn lunch into business. They’ll emerge with herbal supplements, snacks, or the latest multipurpose juice guaranteed to “boost immunity, burn fat, and cure heartbreak”. These side hustlers have mastered the art of pitching to hungry colleagues in queues, banking on sympathy or guilt to make a sale.
Strategic begging
He’s known in every department. Once lunch begins, he reappears, earnest, polite, and perpetually in need of a “small favour”. Whether it’s bus fare, a quick bite, or an unexpected family emergency, his lunchtime rounds are legendary. So much so that colleagues spot him from a distance, and scatter.
Bunge la Mwananchi regular
For some, lunch hour is best spent at Bunge la Mwananchi, the informal public forums held in parks and streets where city dwellers debate politics with wild abandon. Whether you’re cheering the speakers or delivering your own fiery speech, the drama is better than any TV soap, and far more distracting than hunger.