In Kenya, being an MC is no longer merely a side hustle. It has evolved into a fully fledged career, complete with branded blazers, quotes on WhatsApp statuses, and invoices. From ruracios, weddings and funerals to graduations and corporate functions, MCs have become the unofficial “owners” of ceremonies. Some are talented and organised, while others survive purely on confidence and a loud microphone. Attend enough events in Kenya and you will encounter these ten species of MCs:
The boring chap
This MC often arrives on a “friendly budget”, or no budget at all. Payment usually consists of tea, mandazi, lunch, and a fare refund. Sadly, the performance matches the fee. He reads the programme like a KCSE invigilator announcing examination rules: “Now… we… shall… invite… the… next… speaker…” Asanteni sana. As he proceeds, even the bride begins reconsidering her marriage decisions. Guests focus on the aroma of pilau drifting from the kitchen instead of the ceremony itself.
The copycat MC
This MC has no original content. Every joke, slogan and dance move belongs to another MC from TikTok, YouTube or a popular media station. You will hear him say, “Ladies and gentlemen, can I hear some noiseeee?” Then five minutes later: “Mikono juu ya hewa kila mtu!” Even his laugh sounds borrowed.
The striver MC
This one is upcoming and hungry for success. He introduces himself with titles nobody has given him: “I am so-and-so, an international award-winning motivational MC…” Meanwhile, the only award he ever received was a moot court participation certificate in Form Three. The striver MC works very hard though. He prints business cards, wears shiny shoes and posts every event online with captions like: “Another successful engagement”.
The proud
She could be a radio or TV presenter, comedian, or social media influencer. People become excited simply because she has arrived. Ladies start taking selfies before she even says, “How are you guys?” Half the time, she talks about herself and her supposed achievements: “When I was with the President…” Madam, please. We are here for a ruracio in Mwingi, not your autobiography.
The overexcited
This one behaves as though he has taken five energy drinks before arriving. He screams into the microphone as if addressing a political rally during an election season. Even grandparents holding walking sticks are shocked. He dances nonstop and sweats like a man digging a borehole manually.
The mother tongue MC
He utterly refuses to communicate in any language outside his own. Whether the audience understands or not is none of his business. The entire programme suddenly turns into a vernacular radio station. Guests from other communities sit smiling awkwardly, clapping and laughing because everyone else is clapping and laughing.
The tribal MC
She survives entirely on tribal stereotypes. Every few minutes she makes a joke targeting a specific community or gives examples using tribes. “Wajaluo wakiona samaki…” At first, people laugh politely. After an hour, tension slowly enters the tent like carbon monoxide. Someone’s uncle or wife looks offended.
The time-wasting MC
This MC does not understand schedules. A four-hour wedding becomes an entire Netflix season. He introduces every guest with a full biography: “She completed primary school in 1987… got married in 1995…” Everyone regrets attending the wedding without eating first. The cake starts melting. Guests begin sneaking out one by one, already late and still unfed.
The professional MC
This is the chosen one. She appears calm, organised, funny and respectful. She knows when to crack jokes and when to remain serious. She keeps time, controls crowds and rescues awkward moments with grace. Even when the generator fails or the bride disappears mysteriously, she remains composed. This MC is rare. When you find one, keep her number like a national treasure.
The extortionist
This one does not just host events; she runs a fundraising operation. She has the audacity to call guests randomly and demand they produce their wallet for inspection, she then takes all the money, regardless of whether the guest has fare. The event starts peacefully, then suddenly: “Anyone (including the eventphotographers) taking photos of the bride without permission will pay Sh500!”
