How do you build brands that people choose—not just afford?
Across the open-air markets of East Africa, a quiet economic struggle unfolds between the clothes people can afford today and the industries their governments hope to build tomorrow. Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania have turned to tariffs and levies to shield nascent domestic fashion sectors from the overwhelming tide of cheap second-hand imports, yet millions of livelihoods depend on that very trade. The tension is not simply one of policy but of competing visions of development — who benefits, who is protected, and what kind of economy a nation chooses to become.
- Local designers cannot compete when a single price point buys ten second-hand dresses instead of one locally made garment, making the economic math almost impossible to overcome.
- Nearly 5 million people across the region depend on the second-hand clothing trade, creating fierce resistance to any policy that threatens to disrupt the supply chain from importers down to market food vendors.
- When Rwanda aggressively raised import taxes, consumers did not turn to local clothing — they shifted to cheap new fast fashion from China, exposing the limits of tariffs as a tool for industrial revival.
- The US has already demonstrated its willingness to punish East African nations that restrict used clothing imports, using preferential trade access as leverage to protect its own export interests.
- Governments are now navigating between taxation and prohibition, consumer outcry and manufacturer lobbying, while textile waste quietly overflows landfills and the real threat — Asian fast fashion — continues to grow.
On a waterlogged afternoon at Gikomba, East Africa's largest open-air market, shoppers in rubber boots picked through flooded pathways hunting for bargains. The scene captures a deeper tension: how do you build a domestic fashion industry when your markets are flooded with cheap cast-offs that undercut local designers by orders of magnitude? For Kenyan designer Zia Bett and Tanzanian shopkeeper Elizabeth Paul, the arithmetic is brutal — a locally made dress costs the same as ten second-hand ones.
A decade ago, the East African Community attempted an outright ban on used clothing imports. The US threatened to revoke preferential trade access under the African Growth and Opportunity Act, and the ban collapsed. Now the region is trying taxation instead. Uganda stacked a 30 percent environmental levy on top of existing duties and VAT. Kenya attempted a tax restructure but retreated after public outcry. The scale of the trade explains the resistance: Kenya alone imported nearly 180,000 tonnes of used clothing in 2022, a 76 percent rise from 2013, and up to 4.9 million people across the region depend on the industry.
Critics argue those jobs are the thinnest form of economic participation — importing and reselling contributes little to national development compared to manufacturing. Yet even those who share that view acknowledge the trade's social function: where poor people once went without adequate clothing, second-hand markets now ensure even the poorest are decently dressed. Shoppers at Dar es Salaam's Ilala market describe their choices not as desperation but as preference — praising durability, quality, and uniqueness.
Rwanda's experience offers a sobering lesson. After aggressively raising import taxes in 2016, the country saw second-hand clothing's share of imports collapse — but consumers simply switched to cheap new fast fashion from China and Turkey rather than buying local. The US retaliated with new tariffs on Rwandan exports, and Rwanda's own trade ministry later admitted the country lacked the domestic production capacity to sustain a ban.
Environmentalists add another layer of complexity: more than one in three items shipped to Kenya ends up in landfill, yet traders counter that manufacturing equivalent volumes of new clothing would consume far greater resources. Many designers and traders now agree the real threat is not second-hand clothing but the surge of cheap Asian fast fashion. For Zia Bett, the answer lies not in tariffs but in building brands people actively choose — through storytelling, quality, and distinctiveness. The region remains suspended between the clothes its people need today and the industry it hopes to build tomorrow.
On a waterlogged afternoon at Gikomba, East Africa's largest open-air clothing market, shoppers in rubber boots picked their way through flooded pathways hunting for bargains. The market thrums with life despite the weather—a testament to the region's hunger for second-hand garments shipped in from America, Europe, and China. But that hunger has become a crisis for the people trying to build something new here.
Kenia, Uganda, and Tanzania face a problem that looks simple on the surface but cuts deep into questions about economic development, consumer welfare, and national pride. How do you nurture a domestic fashion industry when your markets are flooded with cheap cast-offs that undercut local designers by orders of magnitude? Zia Bett, who founded a Kenyan womenswear brand bearing her name, put it plainly: she cannot compete on price. In Tanzania's largest city, Elizabeth Paul runs a shop where a locally made dress starts at 50,000 Tanzanian shillings—about £14.50. For that same price, a customer can walk away with ten second-hand dresses. The math is brutal.
A decade ago, the East African Community, a regional trade bloc, moved to ban second-hand clothing altogether across its member states. The US, a major exporter of used garments, intervened with economic leverage. It threatened to revoke preferential trade access under the African Growth and Opportunity Act, which allows sub-Saharan African nations to ship goods duty-free to American markets. The ban collapsed. Now, as local manufacturers struggle, the debate has returned—but this time the region is trying taxation rather than prohibition. Uganda introduced a 30 percent environmental levy on top of an existing 35 percent import duty and 18 percent VAT. Kenya attempted to restructure its tax system but withdrew the proposal after public outcry over potential price increases. The country already applies a 30 percent customs duty to used clothing, five percentage points higher than the tariff on new imports.
The scale of the trade is staggering. Kenya imported nearly 180,000 tonnes of second-hand clothing in 2022, a 76 percent jump from 2013. In Uganda, government research found that second-hand garments are the most sought-after clothing category, followed by imported new items, with locally made clothes a distant third. The supply chain that moves these clothes through the region employs vast numbers—up to 4.9 million people across East Africa, according to research commissioned by the Mitumba Consortium Association of Kenya. Traders like Aaron Sekky argue the industry is essential. It supports importers, wholesalers, tailors who repair damaged items, and vendors selling food at the markets. "This has to be a free economy," Sekky told the BBC.
But critics see the employment argument as incomplete. Dr. Andrew Brooks, an academic at King's College London who has written extensively about fast fashion and second-hand clothes, argues that retail is the thinnest form of job creation. "If you're just importing things and selling things, you're doing very, very little to contribute to your nation's economy." Lisa Kibutu, a board member of the Kenya Fashion Council, echoes this: many mitumba jobs are hand-to-mouth roles offering no path to advancement. Yet she also acknowledges the service the trade provides. When she left Kenya in the 1980s, poor people went without adequate clothing. Now, even the poorest have decent garments.
Affordability remains the primary draw, but quality has become equally important. At Ilala market in Dar es Salaam, shoppers like Najma Issa, 40, praised the durability of second-hand items. Juma Awadh, 22, cited both quality and uniqueness. These are not desperate purchases—they are choices. Rwanda offers a cautionary tale about what happens when a government moves aggressively. In 2016, the country raised its tax on used clothing from $0.20 to $2.50 per kilogram. The share of second-hand garments in imports plummeted from 26-32 percent to 2-7 percent. But rather than buying locally made clothes, Rwandan consumers shifted to cheap new fast fashion from China and Turkey. The US retaliated against Rwanda's restrictions by imposing 30 percent tariffs on Rwandan clothing exports, where none had existed before. Even Rwanda's own trade ministry acknowledged in a 2022 report that the country lacked sufficient domestic textile production to sustain a total ban.
Environmentalists point to another dimension of the crisis. More than one in three items of used clothing shipped to Kenya ends up in landfill, according to a 2023 estimate by the Changing Markets Foundation. The infrastructure to process textile waste does not exist; official dump sites have overflowed for years. Yet Teresia Wairimu Njenga, chairperson of the Mitumba Consortium, argues that second-hand traders are actually environmental champions. Manufacturing 198,000 new tonnes of clothing annually would require vastly more resources and energy. The real threat, many traders and designers agree, is not mitumba but cheap new fast fashion flooding in from Asia. As Zia Bett sees it, the solution lies not in tariffs but in building brands people choose rather than merely afford—through storytelling, quality, and distinctiveness. For now, the region remains caught between protecting workers and consumers, between local ambition and global economics, between the clothes people need today and the industry they might build tomorrow.
Citas Notables
We're competing with second-hand clothing, but we can't compete on price.— Zia Bett, founder of Kenyan womenswear brand Zia Africa
If you're just importing things and selling things, you're doing very, very little to contribute to your nation's economy.— Dr. Andrew Brooks, King's College London academic
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does the US care so much about second-hand clothing exports? It seems like a small trade.
It's not really about the clothes themselves. The US uses trade access as leverage. When East Africa tried to ban mitumba in 2015, the US threatened to remove these countries from a preferential trade agreement. That access is worth billions. The second-hand clothing is almost incidental—it's about maintaining economic influence.
So the local designers are trapped.
Trapped between two forces, yes. They can't compete with second-hand prices, but they also can't compete with cheap new fast fashion from China. A tariff on used clothes just pushes customers toward new imports instead. Rwanda learned this the hard way.
But millions of people depend on the mitumba trade for income.
That's the real tension. Those jobs are real. But they're also fragile—hand-to-mouth work with no growth. A tailor mending second-hand clothes isn't building skills that lead anywhere. A factory worker making new garments could be.
Is there a way forward that doesn't hurt either group?
The designers think so. Stop fighting mitumba and instead build brands that people want, not just afford. But that requires investment, infrastructure, and time—things the region doesn't have while competing with global supply chains.
What about the environmental cost?
That's the argument Uganda used for its levy. But it's complicated. Manufacturing new clothes uses more resources than selling old ones. The real waste is that a third of what arrives here goes straight to landfill because there's nowhere else for it to go.