How young Kenyans fuelled a booming football market and what’s in it for businesses

The Confederation Africaine de Football (CAF) said that perhaps the most striking image of Chan 2024, which attracted approximately 140,000 people and garnered 40 million viewers, was not just the goals or the saves, but the roaring, packed stadiums.

“Every Harambee Stars match was played in front of full houses draped in red, black, green, and white. But even neutral fixtures attracted sizeable crowds, proving that Kenyans were not just attending out of patriotism but out of a deep love for football. Fan zones in Nairobi, Mombasa, Kisumu, and Eldoret buzzed with activity, turning Chan into a national festival,” CAF said.

Read: Kenya’s CHAN Triumph: Youth, unity and global glory in a kickoff

Some young Kenyans traded nightclubs for football stadiums, flocking to Moi International Sports Centre-Kasarani and Nyayo Stadium during the Chan season, signaling a new love for the game and an opportunity for entrepreneurs in future tournaments.

Njoki Wanderi, 24, admits she isn’t a football lover, but the Chan tournament completely changed how she spent her Friday nights.

“I don’t follow leagues religiously, but I do enjoy the adrenaline rush that comes with watching a match. What drew me to Chan was the excitement of experiencing a live game for the first time—I just wanted to feel the unique energy of being in a stadium, cheering alongside thousands of fans,” she says.

Ms Wanderi first heard about Chan on X [Twitter], where updates about Kenya hosting the tournament filled her timeline. For her, the thought of watching the national team play at home in such a big continental competition was too good to miss. “The idea of being part of that moment felt like a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” she says.

“Normally, Friday nights for me are about hanging out with friends, maybe going out for drinks. But inside the stadium, the energy, the noise, the chants—it was on a whole different level. Honestly, it was more thrilling than my usual Friday routine."

She even skipped a date to attend Kenya’s historic win over Morocco. “I don’t regret it. That excitement, no date could have given me that,” she adds.

Like many young fans, she also realised how affordable and inclusive football nights felt compared to clubbing: “A football night is way cheaper. Tickets were going for as little as Sh200. Compare that to a Friday night out—you spend thousands. Plus, at the stadium, you see families, couples, and young people. It feels mixed, safe, and welcoming.”

The Morocco match was the highlight of the tournament: “Everyone had written off Harambee Stars, but being there and watching Kenya beat Morocco—a World Cup team—was the most exciting feeling I’ve had in a long time. The stadium was full. It was unforgettable.”

Social media, she notes, played a big role in keeping the hype alive.

And for her, watching Kenya play at home was deeply moving. “Hearing the national anthem live, singing along, and watching our players walk out in suits — it gives you goosebumps. It feels like being part of history,” she says.

Still, she is cautious about how long this new football-first culture among young Kenyans will last. “Chan was only here for a month. If Kenya doesn’t build on this momentum—by hosting more tournaments and investing in football culture—people will go back to clubbing like we never left,” she says.

Elsewhere, Joseph Okwisia, 24, didn’t think twice when he chose between a night out and a football match.

A sports journalist by profession, Okwisia lives and breathes football—whether on the pitch, in the newsroom, or even on Fifa with friends.

When Kenya was announced as the host of the Chan tournament, he knew he couldn’t miss it. “I was privileged to be among the Kenyan sports journalists who attended the final draw. This was my first international tournament to cover, and I wanted to get that experience of working with the best,” he says.

For him, the stadium atmosphere beats the club scene any day. “ The atmosphere is better—it’s just energetic seeing all these people supporting the same team, strangers celebrating together,” Mr Okwisia says.

Part of the pull, he admits, is how affordable and safe football stadiums are compared to night clubs. “A ticket at Kasarani regular was just Sh200. We spent maybe Sh400 in total—ticket, water, njugu [groundnuts], and transport. Compare that to a night out where you’d spend between Sh5,000 and Sh10,000. And security inside the stadium was tight, you always felt safe,” he says.

The experience of being in the stands—or in his case, the media tribune—has stuck with him.

He hopes that the hype doesn’t end. “These are the days we prayed for, when we used to go for a match and be only 50 or 100 fans. Last month, stadiums were full. I really hope the numbers we saw also turn up for the Kenyan Premier League,” he says.

Ian Thuku, 20, a Chelsea supporter who also follows Kenya Police and Harambee Stars, calls football “something that runs in my blood.” For him, watching the national team play at Kasarani Stadium was about more than 90 minutes of action.

“It was history happening right in front of your eyes. Years from now, I want to say: I was there when Kenya co-hosted Chan.”

He says the stadium offered more than entertainment. It offered belonging, safety, and memories. He remembers going with a group of close friends, joking and bantering as they watched the game unfold.

For him, the tournament has proven that football can be a true alternative to nightlife if given the right platform. “Imagine if the FKF Premier League had night games,” he says. “Chan has shown it’s possible to create a new Friday vibe.”

For Brian Ouma, 20, Chan was a moment in history.

“What drew me to Chan was the fact that we were given the opportunity to host,” he says. “Kenya has been denied continental tournaments before, but this time it was real.”

For Ekisa Zablon, 24, Chan felt personal. Like many young Kenyans, he was drawn by the rarity of the event itself. “We haven’t held a major African tournament in such a long time,” he explains.

For him, the choice between Chan and nightlife was obvious. “Why go clubbing when you can witness a once-in-a-lifetime event? Clubs are there every weekend. Chan won’t be back for years. Plus, it’s cheaper, safer, and honestly more fun.”

“I think this trend of young people liking football will last beyond Chan,” he says. “But it depends on our federation. They have to keep standards high — affordable tickets, organised matches, safe stadiums. If they do, then yes, this culture is here to stay.”

Still, he knows the hype might not last forever. “It was 10 times better because we were with our football boys,” he says. “You see someone make a mistake, you laugh, you argue, you cheer. It becomes an unforgettable night.” He even skipped parties and birthdays in favour of matches — sometimes without regret.

And then there’s the cost. Thuku breaks it down simply: a Chan ticket for Sh250, food from home, and a walk to the stadium. “It was cheaper because I was not spending on alcohol, not calling an Uber,” he says. “You’re sober, you’re safe, and you’re surrounded by families, children, everyone. In clubs, there’s always the risk of fights, theft, and broken glasses. But in the stadium? You’re 100 percent safe.”

Chan was temporary, but the feeling it has created isn’t,” Thuku says. “If Kenya builds on this — with Afcon coming next year — people will keep showing up. If not, the clubs will be waiting.”

Ouma attended his first game as an accredited journalist, but quickly realised that the real pulse wasn’t in the press box — it was in the terraces. “Sometimes there’s no thrill sitting at the media tribune,” he admits with a laugh. “I bought my own ticket and sat with the fans. The chanting, the singing, the canopy echoing at Kasarani — you don’t get that from behind a laptop.”

The Morocco game is etched deepest in his memory. “Everyone thought Harambee Stars would lose,” he recalls. “Even my friends told me I was delusional for believing we could win. But when Ryan Ogao struck that goal, the whole stadium erupted. I still can’t explain that feeling. The tension, the joy, the disbelief — you don’t forget that kind of night.”

For Ouma, these games are more than entertainment; they are living classrooms. He talks about fan culture, security planning, and social media hashtags like #JazaStadi that turned into rallying cries. He talks about watching Kenyans walking long distances from the Safari Park to Gate 11 at Kasarani just to make it in on time. “That dedication, that passion: it’s a cultural shift,” he says. “It’s young people rewriting their Friday and weekend nights.”

And like Njoki, Ouma draws a direct comparison to nightlife. “Honestly, a Friday night match beats the thrill of a club. At the stadium, you feel true emotions: joy, tension, heartbreak, celebration, all in one night. And it’s cheaper. The stadium wins every time.”

Looking ahead, he believes the love for live football watching will last beyond Chan.

“Chan has shown young people that football can be the centerpiece of our social lives,” Ouma says. “And with Afcon 2027 coming, plus World Cup qualifiers and our clubs playing continental football, the culture will only grow. Clubbing won’t die, it’s rooted in us. But now, football is a real alternative — and for many, the better one.”