Renting a Life: Inside Kenya’s Growing Industry of Fake Friends, Dates, and Relatives for Hire

Nairobi — June 20, 2025

When Susan walked into her cousin’s ruracio in Kiambu hand-in-hand with a man her family had never met, all eyes were on them. He was tall, well-spoken, and dressed like a model corporate dream. Aunties whispered. Cousins gushed.

Her family was impressed. They thought Susan had finally “settled down.” What they didn’t know—what they still don’t—is that she paid Sh3,500 per hour for him to be there.

Read: How to Flirt Like a High-Value Man (Without Being Creepy, Needy, or Boring)

He wasn’t her boyfriend. He was an actor. And his job was to play the part of a loving partner for one evening.

Welcome to Kenya’s hidden emotional economy, where people now rent fake lovers, mourners, friends, and even family members to manage social expectations—and survive public judgment.


“We Sell Peace of Mind”

Meet Mike K., founder of Rent-A-Someone KE, a Nairobi-based agency connecting people with actors who play relationship roles on demand.

“We don’t just rent people,” Mike says. “We sell moments. We help people avoid shame. We help them survive social pressure.”

What started as a joke during the pandemic—when a friend needed a fake girlfriend to attend a high school reunion—has now evolved into a full-time gig economy. His platform now boasts over 200 registered actors, offering everything from fake fiancés to fake boardroom staff.

His most outrageous job?

“A man once hired six fake ‘employees’ to impress a potential investor at a product launch. We brought in banners, name tags, even catered snacks. The investor bought the pitch.”


Nairobi’s Loneliness Economy

In Kenya’s increasingly individualistic and success-driven urban culture, appearances are everything. And for many—especially in Nairobi—the fear of judgment outweighs the need for truth.

“Some clients just want someone to talk to,” says Sarah N., a 25-year-old “companion for hire.”
“You sit with them in a restaurant, listen, smile, take a photo. Some people cry. Some just want silence.”

She charges Sh1,200 per hour, and insists it’s not sex work: “This is emotional labor.”

Most of her clients are lonely, socially anxious, or overwhelmed by family expectations to appear “sorted.” On social media, they post photos with her to keep up appearances. Offline, they’re often battling depression.


A Society Obsessed with Image

Dr. Mercy Wanjiru, a Nairobi-based clinical psychologist, sees the trend as a mirror of modern Kenyan society.

“This is what happens when society becomes hyper-public, but emotionally silent,” she says. “People fear failure—but even more, they fear being seen to fail.”

Dr. Wanjiru adds that the rise in “emotional outsourcing” reflects a dangerous culture where vulnerability is punished, and image is everything.

“It’s sad, but deeply human. People would rather pay strangers to pretend than admit they’re struggling.”


Is It Ethical?

Not everyone is comfortable with the idea. Religious leaders and ethicists have raised concerns about the growing “fakeness” in Kenyan culture—especially around sacred spaces like funerals.

Pastor Daniel Mungai of Rongai is pragmatic:
“If someone pays mourners to show up, maybe that’s the real tragedy—that they had to. We should ask why people are dying unloved or celebrated by strangers.”


A Growing Industry

The demand is rising fast. Most actors are recruited via Telegram groups, Instagram DMs, and encrypted apps. Some agencies now offer packages:

Fake bridal teams (complete with outfits)

Instagram “partner for a day” services

Parent impersonators for school functions

Boardroom stand-ins for young entrepreneurs

Wedding guests and mourners for hire

Some even require signed NDAs to protect clients’ identities.

For Susan, who remains single and happily unbothered, the performance at her cousin’s ruracio worked perfectly.

“I didn’t lie,” she says. “I just bought peace. And I’m not ashamed.”


What It All Means

As more Kenyans navigate life in a culture built on performance, rented relationships are quickly becoming a coping mechanism.

Whether it’s a symptom of emotional decay or just another form of survival in a judgmental society, one thing is clear: real connection has become a luxury—and some are now willing to pay for the illusion of it.


🟡 What Do You Think?

Would you hire someone to play your partner or friend?
Is this emotional freedom—or are we faking ourselves into emptiness?

Join the conversation with #RentingLifeKE

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