Kenya’s Potato Paradox: Why a Nation of Chip Lovers Can’t Fill Its Fryers

According to Sheena Raikundalia, Chief Growth Officer at Kuza One, a deep dive into Kenya’s potato supply chain reveals a system in which farmers, processors, and the national economy are all losing out—despite the country’s ravenous appetite for the humble chip.

NAIROBI, KENYA – In Kenya, few things unite the culinary landscape like “chips,” the beloved local term for french fries. From bustling roadside kiosks to the menus of high-end restaurants, they are the nation’s undisputed side dish. Yet, a puzzling economic paradox lies just beneath the surface: despite producing over 2 million tonnes of potatoes annually, the country’s food processors are running at just 40% capacity, and the perfect potato for frying remains frustratingly out of reach.

This contradiction was laid bare a few years ago during the infamous “KFC Scandal,” when the fast-food giant revealed it was importing potatoes from Egypt, sparking a national outcry. For many, it seemed like the perfect growth story was waiting to be written: connect local farmers to the huge demand, boost production, create jobs, and slash imports.

But as Sheena Raikundalia, Chief Growth Officer at Kuza One and a prominent voice in African enterprise, explains in a recent analysis, the solution is not nearly so simple. “We met processors, got the specs, and went back to the field full of conviction,” she notes. The message to farmers was clear: “‘Grow Markies,’ we told the agripreneurs. ‘That’s what the market wants.’”

Markies, a potato variety prized by processors for its consistency and low moisture content, seemed like the silver bullet. The reality on the ground, however, proved far more complex.

The first hurdle is genetics. The Markies seed is scarce and expensive. Bred for the long days of a Dutch summer with 15 hours of sunlight, its yields are often lower in Kenya’s equatorial climate, and it is more susceptible to blight.

For the average Kenyan farmer, this makes it a risky bet. Most instead plant Shangi, a local variety that is the backbone of the domestic market. Shangi matures fast and sells quickly in informal markets that pay immediate cash—a critical factor for smallholder farmers reliant on steady cash flow. But its advantages end there. “It bruises easily, doesn’t store well, and fries unevenly,” Raikundalia points out, which is precisely why industrial processors reject it.

This disconnect between farmer practice and industry demand points to the real bottleneck: seed.

According to Raikundalia, less than 1% of all potato seed planted in Kenya is certified. The vast majority of farmers recycle old potatoes from previous harvests as seed, a practice that leads to a vicious cycle of disease and diminishing returns. The result is chronically low productivity. “Yields are just 8–10 tonnes per hectare instead of the 30–40 seen elsewhere,” she writes. Consequently, potato prices in Kenya rise not because of overwhelming demand, but because of systemic inefficiency.

The entire supply chain is a case study in misaligned incentives. As Raikundalia crisply summarises:

• Farmers chase immediate cashflow.
• Processors chase consistency.
• Traders chase margins in a volatile market.

“And yet, everyone loses,” she concludes. Farmers are trapped by poor yields and unpredictable prices. Processors sit on idle, expensive machinery. Traders struggle to move a perishable crop with almost no access to cold storage or coordination.

The ultimate loser is Kenya itself. The inefficiency translates into millions of dollars in lost value, from post-harvest wastage to the untapped potential of a robust processing industry. “Jobs that could exist in seed production, storage, or processing don’t,” Raikundalia argues, “not for lack of demand, but for lack of design.”

While Kenyans’ love for chips remains unshakable, the system that brings them to the plate is broken. Until the core issues of seed quality, storage infrastructure, and market alignment are addressed, the nation’s processing plants will remain half-empty, its farmers half-rewarded, and a plate of its favourite snack far more expensive than it needs to be.

“We love our chips,” Raikundalia states, “but what we really need is a better recipe for how the whole chain works.”