By Benadeta Mwaura - Reporter
Kenya, 23 December 2025 - Purity Kaari stands smiling inside her hair salon in Nairobi, head up but hands on a customer’s head, working seamlessly.
Customers have come and left, each placing a booking and confirming their time before leaving.
The scent of hair products mixes with the faint aroma of street food wafting through the open door.
A woman calls from the doorway, “Are you busy?”
“Yes, for now. You can come back in about two hours,” Purity replies, exchanging a quick glance with her work partner Emmaculate, who nods subtly.
“What time is it now? It’s 2:00 pm, so I should come at 4:00 pm?” the customer asks.
“Yes,” Purity confirms.
I ask her, “Is it always this busy?”
“No,” she laughs, “but it’s Christmas. People want to look good.”
It hits me suddenly, Christmas is here. But why don’t I feel the old excitement?
Christmas is a celebration mainly observed by Christians across the world. While it may not be popular to other religions, but its proximity to end of the year on a Gregorian Calendar means that its wave is felt by many.
Conversations with colleagues earlier this week reveal a shared pattern: few are travelling upcountry this year. Money, time, and new priorities have shifted traditions.
Back in the 1990s, Christmas in Kenya was a sensory celebration. Families reunited, streets filled with laughter, and everyone, young and old, dressed in new clothes bought just for the holiday.
On Christmas Day, children would parade their outfits down dusty roads, showing off the fruits of their parents’ year-long savings.
Christmas Eve was often celebrated with night vigils in churches or community discos around bonfires.
Memories were captured by photographers going door-to-door, no digital cameras then, only film that took weeks to develop. And sometimes, disappointment struck when a photo was “burnt”, picha ilichomeka, meaning the moment would have to wait for another year.
Families meticulously planned their gatherings. In the villages, butcheries offered subsidized cows, ready for festive feasts.
Anticipation was built slowly, over days of planning and limited communication. The magic was in the waiting.
Today, that magic has shifted. Phones are in constant use, video calls connect distant relatives, and social media shows celebrations before they happen. Screen time brings people together virtually, but it also dulls the thrill of journeying home.
Joseph Mburu, a boda boda operator and father of two, describes his reality:
“My wife is from western Kenya, but we will not take the trip this year. after all,we have been in touch with our relatives all year round.”
Economic realities now shape how Christmas is experienced. Corporate offices often run shifts or close briefly, while government offices remain open except for public holidays. Families budget carefully, some trade lavish gifts for essentials.
Joseph Mburu explains, “Most years, I could prepare early and provide for my family without thinking. Now, planning is critical. Every shilling counts. We had to prioritize school fees. Christmas comes after responsibilities. If we travel, it has to be within budget.”
Yet, some businesses find opportunities in these shifts.
Bookstores and select retailers adapt to new buying patterns, selling second-hand goods or focusing on essentials.
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Others, like Mama Pendo, struggle to balance supply with reduced purchasing power among customers.
For Joseph, Christmas isn’t cancelled, it’s adapted. “I’ll take the kids to Uhuru Park. Small, simple. That’s all I can manage,” he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
At Mama Pendo’s small shop, shelves restocked with cereals from Nairobi and Thika gather dust.
“It’s Christmas week, and I’ve sold almost nothing. I honestly don’t know what’s happening,” she laments.
Meanwhile, Joseph Mbote, a bookseller, notices shifts in consumer behaviour:
“People are moving away from buying new books, choosing second-hand instead. Sales are steady, but not as we hoped.”
Despite economic pressures, malls in Nairobi remain busy.
Shoppers window-shop, others make selective purchases. And yet, buses heading to western Kenya are fully booked, a reminder that cultural pull often outweighs financial strain.
Sylvanno Amalanda, returning to his rural home in Khumusalaba, Kakamega County, embodies this pull.
“Christmas was the best part of my childhood,” he says.
“Church confirmations, choir practices, and plays took the whole month. And then, chapatis, my favorite, just once a year, on Christmas morning. Church services, family meals, reunions, it all made the holiday unforgettable.”
His mother would wake up very early in the morning to prepare the year long awaited meal ‘chapatis’, and they would feast on it before going to church.
‘’We would go for first mass which would end at around 11, when we got home my mum would have by this time prepared the rest of the meals, stew and chicken. Christmas in my village was well remembered for this.’’ He added
For the Bukusu and Tiriki communities, cultural rites like circumcision camps shape the season. Young men spend a month in seclusion, learning responsibility and societal roles before being reintegrated into family and community celebrations. These ceremonies, deeply rooted in tradition, create moments no phone call or screen can replicate.
“Even now,” Sylvanno continues, “my children go upcountry every Christmas. They haven’t seen their cousins all year. This is the moment for family, for connection, for culture.”
The presence of screens changes everything. WhatsApp groups, Instagram feeds, and TikTok videos allow families to connect instantly. Children compare gifts online, see celebrations across the country, and even participate virtually in church events and performances.
“We talk every day, we see each other on video,” Joseph Mburu says.
“But it’s not the same as the journey, the family gathering, the smells of home. Screens help, but they can’t replace presence.”
Even choir practices that Amalanda enjoyed so much, now incorporate recorded tutorials, rehearsals over Zoom, or sharing performances online. Screens bring convenience and connectivity, but they also dilute the tangible, tactile excitement of Christmas once experienced.
Christmas in Kenya remains a mosaic of old and new. Nostalgia for the past sits alongside the realities of modern life, economic constraints, urban routines, and digital connections.
Some traditions persist, church services, family reunions, upcountry journeys, while others evolve, shaped by screens, budgets, and city life.
In the end, Christmas is still about connection, whether in the dusty streets of rural Kakamega, a crowded Nairobi salon, or across video calls spanning continents.
It is about family, culture, and the little rituals that endure despite change. And even as technology and economics shift the way we celebrate, the heartbeat of the holiday remains: togetherness.
