It sounds like a simple question. Yet for many Kenyans approaching or already in retirement, it is anything but simple. The questions for many include: will you return to the village, remain in the city, move to a smaller town, or divide your time between two homes?
We spend years discussing how much financial resources we will need in retirement, whether our pension will be adequate and what we will do with our time. Yet one of the most consequential retirement decisions receives surprisingly little attention: where we will live upon retirement. Too often, the question is postponed until retirement is upon us – or answered long before then by tradition and social expectations rather than thoughtful reflection.
For many Kenyans, deciding where to live in retirement is not merely a matter of geography. It is shaped by finances, family circumstances, social connections, lifestyle preferences and deeply rooted cultural expectations about where one is supposed to grow old. This is what makes it a uniquely Kenyan retirement conundrum: a difficult question with no single correct answer.
For earlier generations of Kenyan workers, the path appeared straightforward. You left the village to find work in Nairobi, Mombasa, Kisumu or another urban centre. You built your career in town, but the village (shags) remained home. When retirement arrived, you were expected to leave behind the congestion, noise and pressures of city life and return to a quieter existence surrounded by family, land and familiar traditions. For many, urban centres were regarded as places of employment while rural areas were where one truly belonged and would eventually return. At the crossroads between town and village, the direction seemed predetermined.
For many Kenyans approaching retirement today, the rural home still carries an emotional significance that extends far beyond its physical location. It is where childhood memories were formed, where parents and grandparents lived – or still live – and where family land and cultural roots remain. Weddings, funerals, Christmas celebrations and countless family gatherings continue to draw people back, reinforcing the belief that, wherever life takes us, the village is home.
For some, there are also practical attractions. Rural life may offer more space, lower day-to-day expenses, access to land, less traffic and a slower pace. For someone exhausted by decades of deadlines, commuting and urban pressure, the possibility of waking up to birdsong rather than hooting matatus can be deeply appealing. For others – life in rural areas offers an opportunity to farm and undertake activities that give them purpose and meaning in their retirement.
But retirement today is unfolding in a Kenya very different from the one that shaped previous generations. Families are increasingly dispersed across counties, cities and countries. Many Kenyans who moved from rural areas in the 1950s and 1960s established permanent urban lives. Their children and grandchildren were born and raised in towns and may have only occasional contact with their “ancestral” homes.
The social landscape of rural Kenya has also changed. A retiree may imagine returning to the vibrant community they left decades ago, only to discover that it no longer exists in quite the same way. Childhood friends may have relocated and the social connections have dramatically changed. In addition, younger relatives may spend most of their time working elsewhere or have no close relations with the retiree. The neighbours who once formed a close support system may no longer be there either.
The house may be waiting, but the life once imagined around it may not be. This gap between expectation and reality can lead to isolation and loneliness. A person may own a beautiful rural retirement home yet find themselves far from close friends, children, recreational activities or adequate healthcare. Peace and quiet can be restorative, but too much quiet – especially without meaningful relationships and purposeful activity – can become deeply lonely.
For others, urban living presents its own advantages. Towns and cities often provide easier access to services. Retirees who have spent most of their adult lives in urban areas may have built enduring friendships and routines there. Remaining in town may provide continuity at a time when retirement has already brought major changes to identity, income and daily structure.
But urban retirement can also be expensive. Housing, transport, food and other costs can place considerable pressure on a reduced income. Even in a crowded city, loneliness remains possible, particularly when neighbours barely know one another and former workplace relationships begin to fade.
As such, neither setting offers a guaranteed path to a fulfilling retirement. The village is not automatically peaceful and connected, just as the city is not automatically convenient and socially vibrant. Much depends on the individual retiree’s circumstances and the life they intend to build – wherever they choose to live.
Yet an unspoken divide persists in some retirement circles, particularly on social media, between those who return to rural homes and those who remain in town – as though one choice is more responsible, culturally acceptable or valid than the other. Newly retired Kenyans are often asked when they are “going back to the village”, even when they have consciously chosen to remain in an urban area. Such questions reinforce the outdated assumption that retirement must follow a prescribed path and that staying in town somehow requires explanation or defence.
In my view, such judgement is misplaced. Returning to the village does not make someone more rooted, just as remaining in the city does not make someone less Kenyan. Retirement is not a cultural loyalty test. Where a person lives – whether by choice or circumstance – is a deeply personal decision and should be respected as such.
Perhaps the greatest mistake is framing where one lives in retirement as a contest between two opposing choices: town or village. The reality is far more nuanced. A growing number of retirees are creating hybrid arrangements, dividing their time between urban and rural homes. Others are relocating to smaller towns that offer a middle ground: less congestion and lower costs than major cities, while still providing access to essential services and social opportunities. Places such as Machakos, Naivasha and Nanyuki are increasingly attractive for precisely this reason.
Others choose to remain permanently in Nairobi or another major urban centre because that is where their families, friends and social lives are located. Some return fully to rural areas and find the belonging, purpose and tranquillity they hoped for. None of these choices is inherently superior. What matters is whether the location supports the retiree’s needs, values and desired way of life.
As Kenya’s population ages, this discussion will become increasingly important. Policymakers, developers, urban planners, healthcare providers and communities must begin thinking more intentionally about age-friendly housing and environments. Retirees need safe, accessible homes, reliable transport, nearby healthcare and opportunities for social connection – whether they live in a Nairobi apartment, a home in a smaller town or a rural home.
The Kenyan conundrum of where to live in retirement has no universal answer. For some, the village will provide the familiarity, belonging and peace they seek. For others, urban life will offer the convenience and social opportunities they value. Still others will find their balance somewhere between the two. The real question is therefore not whether retirement should be spent in town or in shags. It is not about proving that one choice is wiser, more respectable or more authentic than another. It is about identifying the environment that best supports the life each person wants to lead in retirement.
After all, retirement is not ultimately about where you live. It is about how you live. The best place to call home is the place that enables you to remain connected, healthy, purposeful and fulfilled.
So, if you are fortunate enough to have a choice, perhaps the question is not simply, “Where will I live in retirement?” but rather – “What kind of life do I want to live – and where can I best live it?”
The answer may shape not only where you spend your retirement, but how well you live it.
Dr. Kaendi Munguti is a certified retirement and transition coach and the Founder and CEO of Reinvent RetireMINT.