What Moving From Kenya to the US Taught Me About Money

When I first left Kenya for the United States, I thought the biggest adjustments would be the weather, the accent, or the food. I was wrong. The real culture shock came from something much more unexpected: the way people use money.

I remember standing in line at a supermarket watching someone in front of me buy what looked like a week’s worth of food without counting anything. No pause. No mental math. Just swipe and go. The final cost was more than $200 (Ksh25,000), an amount that I had only seen when shopping for Christmas dinner for my whole extended family.

On one instance, I accompanied my aunt to go grocery shopping, and when she saw me doing the mental math of how much the purchase would be in Kenyan shillings, she immediately told me to stop converting; it was not a fair comparison. 

Also read: I'm Paying for a Ksh200K Dubai Holiday Without Touching My Savings

I realised that money moved faster and more freely. My college roommates were constantly receiving packages from their online shopping, and they ate out most days of the week. Spending $15-20 (Ksh1,950-Ksh2,600) on a meal as well as buying an $8 (Ksh1,040) coffee every day seemed like a regular way of life. I followed suit, and at first it felt freeing. Money seemed almost invisible. You swiped, tapped, or clicked, and everything disappeared into a quick electronic beep. But then I noticed something: when money becomes invisible, it becomes easier to overspend.

The concept that was truly new to me was credit. In the US, credit was a function of everyday life. Having two or three credit cards was a normal reality. The type of credit card also provides different benefits, like reward points for flying or hotel upgrades. The key to money was learning how to work the system.

I was used to debt feeling like a terrible burden. Taking out a loan was a carefully thought-out process that took time and felt extremely deliberate. In the US, debt felt institutional. People would talk about their credit score almost like it’s a personality trait. Student loans, car loans, mortgages, it’s all built into the system.

I met someone who casually mentioned $3,000 (Ksh390,000) in credit card debt as if it were normal.  Not shameful, not secret—just part of adult life. Borrowing more seemed to be encouraged. Build credit. Finance now, pay later. Upgrade today.

It took me time to understand that credit in the U.S. isn’t just borrowing, it’s a tool. It can open doors. But it can also quietly trap you if you don’t understand the rules.

Also read: Things I wish I knew About Money in My 20s

Another difference I noticed was the price of convenience.

In the US, you can pay to avoid almost any inconvenience. Food delivery fees costing more than $8 (KshKsh1,040). A ride that would cost Ksh1,000 in Kenya can cost up to $30 (Ksh3,900). Subscription services, each with a $12 (Ksh1,560) a month subscription fee, where it was normal to not only have one, but all of them, express shipping, which was never less than $15 (Ksh1,950); there’s always a faster, easier option if you’re willing to pay for it. 

While I was in Kenya, convenience was a luxury, not a baseline expectation, but in the U.S., convenience feels built into everyday life. People are busy. Time is precious. Spending money to save time is normal. It took me a while to stop feeling guilty for paying for small comforts, but eventually I realised that it was a convenience economy where ease is sold at every opportunity.

Another surprising concept to me was the culture of tipping. The first time I encountered it, I panicked. Tipping is not only an expectation, but it is also practically a law.

At home, tipping exists but is modest and optional. A Ksh200 tip is considered generous. In America, it feels structured. There are unwritten rules; 15%, 18%, 20%. The size of the tip depends on the size of the bill. If you eat for $40 (Ksh5,300) you will likely pay an extra $8 (Ksh1,040) to your server. 

Also Read: I Spent 5 Years Buying Friendships in Nairobi, It Cost Me Ksh250K

And it’s not just restaurants. Nail salons, drivers, and delivery workers. However much you pay for the service, decides the scale of your tip. If I want to get my nails done, typically costing 50-60 (Ksh6,500 - Ksh7,800), I will have to account for an additional 20% to tip the stylist. 

I once stood at a payment screen staring at suggested tip percentages, trying to calculate what was appropriate. Was it worth tipping a barista 20% of my $12 (Ksh1,560) bill for a simple coffee? It wasn’t just about generosity; it felt like navigating a social contract.

I began to understand that in the U.S., wages and tipping are intertwined in some industries. The price you see isn’t always the final price. Taxes are added at checkout. Tips are expected afterwards. It required a mental adjustment: always assume the total will be higher than the tag.

One of the most profound differences I experienced was how individualistic finances can be in the U.S.For most Americans. Financial independence is emphasised early. Teenagers get part-time jobs. Young adults move out and manage their own bills. Splitting the check at restaurants and paying your exact share for everything is the norm. Once in a while, I would get together with my Kenyan friends and joke about how Americans would split the grocery bill down to the last banana. 

Moving continents taught me many things. But one of the most surprising lessons was this: money isn’t just currency. It’s culture. It reflects what a society values—security, speed, independence, community.