Laura Mbatha slams Nairobi’s high rent for tiny apartments in a fiery social media rant that’s got city tycoons agreeing and landlords squirming, calling out the cramped spaces that feel more like jail cells than homes despite rental costs hitting KSh 70,000 a month.
The content creator’s bold take is striking a chord amid Kenya’s housing crunch, where young professionals squeeze into shoebox units just to stay in the capital. Laura Mbatha, a 29-year-old influencer with a knack for blending humour and hard truths in her Instagram reels, didn’t mince words in a video posted Tuesday evening.
Filmed against the backdrop of her own modest one bedroom in Kilimani, she paced the narrow living area, gesturing at walls that seemed to close in.
“Look at this,” she said, voice laced with frustration. “We’re paying up to 70K for what? Tiny apartments in Nairobi that resemble foreign jail cells. No space to breathe, no kitchen worth cooking in, and rent hikes every lease renewal. It’s madness.”
Her clip captures the raw edge of urban settlement, where square footage shrinks but costs balloon. Nairobi’s rental market has long been a pressure cooker, but 2025’s inflation increase has turned up the heat on the tenants.
According to recent HassConsult reports, average one-bedroom rents in prime spots like Westlands and Parklands jumped 12 per cent year over year, averaging KSh 55,000.
Mbatha points out, many units barely crack 30 square metres, with shared bathrooms and flimsy partitions that do little to muffle neighbour noise.
“It’s like they built these for punishment, not people,” she added, zooming in on her “kitchenette”, a counter barely big enough for a microwave.
Her comparison to jail cells draws from viral clips of overseas prisons, but here, it’s no exaggeration for folks stacking beds in living rooms to make ends meet.
The rant resonates because it’s relatable. Scroll through Kenyan Twitter, and you’ll find threads echoing her gripe: fresh grads from upcountry facing KSh 40,000 asking for glorified closets in Buruburu, or couples forking over 60K in Lavington for spaces without balconies.
Mbatha’s not alone in the chorus. Last month, real estate blogger Kevin Onyango penned a piece on “Nairobi’s micro flats”, warning that the trend favours developers over dwellers, with quick builds prioritising profit over liveability.
“These tiny apartments aren’t innovative,” Onyango wrote. “They’re a symptom of unchecked greed in a city desperate for affordable housing.” Mbatha’s fame, built on lifestyle tips and motherly tips online since her 2023 TikTok sign-up, gives her words extra views.
With 200,000 followers tuning in for everything from budget meal preparations to mental health check-ins, her housing hot take has sparked a small movement online. Comments flood in: “Finally, someone said it! My 25K Rongai spot has me sleeping on the floor.”
Others share horror stories, like power outages in “smart” buildings or landlords evicting via WhatsApp for late payments. One user quipped, “Nairobi high-rent tiny apartments: where your dreams go to get claustrophobic.”
But it’s not all vent. Mbatha wrapped her video with a call to action, urging viewers to negotiate harder and eye satellite towns like Ruiru, where similar sizes go for half the price with actual yards.
“We deserve better than these concrete cages,” she urged. “Push back, negotiate, or build your own vibe outside the CBD.” Her optimism shines through, a nod to her roots in Embu, where family compounds mean space isn’t a luxury.
Landlords and agents aren’t staying quiet. A rep from Edenville Properties, a major player in mid-tier rentals, countered in a LinkedIn post that “high rent reflects demand and amenities like security and proximity to malls.”
Yet, even they admit the size squeeze, blaming zoning laws that cap building heights in older neighbourhoods. Urban planner Dr Grace Mwangi from the University of Nairobi weighs in heavier.
“Nairobi’s high rent for tiny apartments stems from policy gaps,” she explained in a recent TEDx talk. “Post 2022 floods, developers rushed vertical builds, but without rent controls, it’s tenants who pay the emotional toll.”
Kenya’s housing deficit hovers at two million units, per government stats, fuelling black market sublets and roommate roulette.
For influencers like her, turning gripes into gold means collabs with budget brokers or even a potential podcast series on “Surviving the Squeeze”.
Fans speculate a merch drop: T-shirts reading “Not My Jail Cell Rent”. Laura Mbatha slams Nairobi’s high-rent tiny apartments not just to complain but to catalyse change.
In a city where hustlers wake at dawn for matatu commutes to fund these fits, her voice cuts through the concrete. Will it prompt rent freezes or bigger builds? Time will tell. For now, it’s a wake-up call echoing from Kilimani to Karen: space matters, and so does sanity.