Welcome to Marikiti, where the broker is king!

At the entrance, trucks that have travelled all night to bring food from across the borders and villages have arrived, laden with sacks of vegetables and fruits. Products supplied here come from within the country, but also from as far as Ethiopia, Tanzania, Uganda, and Rwanda.

Within minutes, the market is buzzing with people, lorries, and pick-up trucks offloading fresh produce onto handcarts that later haul them to retailers across the city.

Onions, tomatoes, watermelons, pumpkins, fresh kale, cabbages, maize, bananas, mangoes, pineapples among other farm produce litter the landscape.

Ms Nancy Githinji, a trader, lays sacks on the floor of her stall where she sells mangoes. She stretches and lets out a groan, relieving her back from the huge load. She then puts on a clean apron before serving her customers.

Mr John Gitari, who stocks watermelons, laments with disgust about some of his fruit being munched on by rodents.

“The rats have caused us huge losses. I get the fruits from as far as Mpeketoni in Lamu and sometimes even from Tanzania,” he says.

But not everyone at the market is a selling or buying something. On entering the market, one can’t fail to notice hawk-eyed men and women in aprons moving to and from.

They approach potential buyers, asking them what they’re looking for. The men and women have no stalls, but they make inquiries from potential clients and then take them to particular stalls to buy what they want.

A trader is often surprised to find clients have been told the price of produce, more often higher than what they’ve set. Welcome to the world of Marikiti brokers!

The brokers neither own produce nor stalls, but they run the show in the market.

“There are people making a killing without even supplying anything or purchasing produce for sell, but by acting as middle-men,” one trader tells the Nation.

An onion retailer says the brokers in the market control prices of produce and to whom they are sold.

“For 50 kilogrammes of onions, which I sell at Sh1,400, they sell the same product on my behalf at Sh1,700 and automatically pocket the extra Sh300. This is, however, injurious to our customers who have equally been affected by the effects of Covid-19,” he says.

Another trader says some agents demand that the entire produce on the lorries is handed to them and “you only wait for your money”.

“They take full charge of your business,” he says.

Some buy the produce then sell it a higher price at the same market, making huge profits.

It’s no secret that some of the brokers make more money than the retailers or suppliers in the market.

“For the new buyers, some end up spending a lot on products they would buy at very low prices,” says a trader.

The suppliers who don’t play along have learnt the hard way.

A trader narrates how a new supplier of onions to the market took 24 hours to sell a single bulb.

“It is a cartel. If the officials in this market don’t know you, and all-of-a sudden you wake up and bring your products here, they will ensure that you don’t sell them here. You have to talk to them and part with something” she says, meaning one must bribe the officials to sell anything at the market. It’s not a free market, afterall.

The cartel has eyes everywhere and they arrive before anyone else, to ensure only “approved” suppliers access the market.

That’s not all, a trader tells the Nation the brokers tinker with the weighing scales, to make extra money. Produce weighs in at less than what it actually weighs, costing everyone but the broker money.

“This has affected the pricing. Some of their machines can weigh your products at half price without your knowledge. However, with their connections with the powers that be in the market, we have to bear with that,” says the trader who prefers anonymity.

This is despite all the traders there remitting taxes to the government.

With the coming of Covid-19, the traders and suppliers have had to contend with adjustments, some leading to shrinking profits.

Mr Gitari says a kilogramme of watermelon now sells at Sh33 down from Sh45.

“We now get here at around 5am because we leave the house after curfew. This has affected our trade as initially we used to arrive in the market as early as 3am,” he says.

For Mr Kelvin Mutugi and Mr Ahikiriza Kabaka from Uganda, their banana stock is obtained from as far as Western Uganda.

“We stopped purchasing our produce from Uganda after the outbreak of Covid-19 because of the stringent measures at the border. With the hard economic times and the involvement of brokers here, prices could have really shot up that’s why we now purchase local produce,” disclosed Mr Kabaka.

Mr Francis Mutagia stocks tomatoes. He laments that the short working hours due to the curfew have affected their business, with some products going bad before sale.

“Before, we used to work day and night. Our night duties basically started at 9pm to morning and we made a lot of cash,” he says.

A 50kg crate of tomatoes, he says, now sells at Sh5,000, while 90kg and 250kg sells at Sh7,000 and Sh10,000 respectively.

“Since we want to make quick sales for our perishable products, we have to make use of the brokers who boast of skills to sweet-talk customers to buy the products. Per crate we end up losing an average of between Sh1,000 and Sh3,000.”

Brokers take charge

The brokers come in handy, though, considering the goods must move fast.

“We are, however, happy that when the brokers take charge, we witness less perishability due to their workaholic nature.”

When there is a lot of supply, the brokers are key in ensuring fast sales.

Ms Juliana Mwikali, who stocks pumpkins mainly purchased from Nakuru, says the business is not doing well.

“A kilo of the commodity now sells at Sh20, down from Sh30,” she says.