By Uri Ludger
“Why don’t you just contact us and buy from us? We have the best quality control. We have the best craftsmanship. We have the most complete supply chain. You won’t believe the prices we give you…”
These words — from the now-banned TikTok account Senbags — have echoed across phone screens worldwide. If you’ve scrolled through TikTok in the past few weeks, chances are you’ve seen this, or any number of other Chinese accounts, hammering home a consistent message: skip the eye-watering luxury markups and get high-quality products, made with premium materials and expert craftsmanship. And why should you trust them? Because, as they boldly claim, they’ve been the ones making these products for the likes of Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, and Lululemon all along.
The timing couldn’t be more telling. This viral wave comes in the thick of an escalating trade war between the US — under a new Trump administration — and China (which just saw the US slap an unprecedented 145% tariff on most Chinese imports.
The reality of globalized, fragmented production lines has long been public knowledge. But the brazen, almost gleeful way in which Chinese factory owners, resellers, and entrepreneurs are now pulling back the curtain on luxury’s closely guarded secrets has grabbed the world’s attention.
In response, global media headlines have followed a familiar script — dismissing the claims as exaggerated or outright scams, and undermining the notion that Chinese manufacturers could be behind luxury-quality products. Words like dupes, fakes, and inferior knockoffs are being tossed around, clinging to the age-old narrative that the mystique of European brand heritage is what justifies those eye-watering price tags.
But this time, that story’s getting a serious challenge. And ignoring this moment would be a mistake.
Sure, the claims warrant scrutiny — but the message, and more importantly, the tone, has struck a nerve with audiences everywhere.
As brand advisor Fabio Becheri posted on LinkedIn: “Do not underestimate what this could mean for luxury. These videos may seem like noise now. But the narrative they’re pushing could quietly reshape how people perceive value, origin, and authenticity.”
One American TikToker put it even more bluntly: “Truth be told, everything is made in China. People act like Chinese products are bottom of the barrel when literally everything is made in China — the top quality and the low quality. I dunno about y’all, but Imma check out some of these deals…”
And while the full effects of this cultural and economic tug-of-war won’t be felt overnight, savvy buyers around the world are already paying attention — and adjusting their habits.
For East Africa, this could be a rare, strategic opportunity in the making.
The Conversation is Blowing Up on East African TikTok
Ereemye Jerry, a Ugandan fashionprenuer who recently traveled to Guangzhou to source fabrics and improve his production process, says he was stunned by the price differences he encountered when buying directly from suppliers, compared to what he typically pays through the conventional supply chain back home in Kampala.
“I wanted to buy a piece of machinery for my business that I’d seen listed on Alibaba for anywhere between $30,000 and $40,000. While I was in Guangzhou, I found the exact same machine for about $6,000. I was shocked.”
That experience confirmed a long-held suspicion — that many of the so-called “factories” listed on popular e-commerce platforms like Alibaba are actually middlemen.
“Most of the Chinese don’t know English,” Jerry laughs. “Alibaba is an English platform. What makes you think they’re the ones on there?”
Behind the scenes, a thriving ecosystem of consolidators has emerged to support entrepreneurs like Jerry as they navigate China’s sprawling and complex manufacturing markets. These middle players offer services like translation, shipping and logistics coordination, and supplier scouting — essentially serving as guides through a labyrinthine sourcing world.
Brian Kaharuka, from GTC Cargo — a Nairobi-based shipping and clearing firm with operations in China — has seen this demand grow steadily. “More and more people are interested in importing goods from China,” he says. “The first steps are what’s normally difficult. It’s bridging the gap between what they want to do and how they can do it.”
The rise of viral TikTok videos showcasing Chinese factory deals and wholesale hacks might feel new, but for East Africans like Jerry and Brian, it’s old news dressed in new algorithms. “The Chinese value money,” Brian adds with a chuckle. “They don’t have any inhibitions as long as you’re willing to do business. And the best part is they have goods for whatever amount of money you have.”
Both Jerry and Brian now regularly share content about their travels and sourcing exploits in China with a growing and hungry TikTok audience back home. In doing so, they’re engaging in the same kind of disintermediation — cutting out the middleman — that those viral Chinese TikTok accounts are championing.
And it’s catching on fast.
In the last couple of years, a distinct subgenre of content focused on manufacturing, sourcing, and global trade has steadily gained traction on Kenyan and Ugandan TikTok. While it previously existed in scattered form, the events of recent weeks have supercharged interest in this space.
But of course, not everything is sunshine and roses.
As with any fast-growing digital economy, this space has also created fertile ground for fraud and exploitation. With the promise of impossibly good deals, the anonymity of the internet, and the logistical complexity of international trade, scammers have found ample opportunity to con hopeful entrepreneurs. Common pitfalls include fake supplier profiles, ghost consolidators who vanish with deposits, counterfeit equipment, and fraudulent shipping deals. For first-time importers especially, the risk of falling for too-good-to-be-true offers is high, and navigating this world without trusted contacts on the ground or verified intermediaries can quickly turn into an expensive lesson.
Repositioning East Africa — From Importers to Producers
Back in 2015, a McKinsey report predicted that by 2025, with the right reforms and investment, East Africa could emerge as a serious player in global apparel manufacturing. The report pointed to the region’s competitive advantages: low labor costs and access to international markets through preferential trade agreements like AGOA and the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA). In the middle of today’s trade tensions, that potential lifeline to the US market might matter more than ever — though it remains to be seen whether AGOA will be renewed when it expires in 2025.
A policy brief from the China-Africa Research Institute echoed these views, framing East Africa as a strategic partner in China’s longer-term plan to shift parts of its textile production offshore. The brief highlighted Ethiopia as a case study, where companies like Huajian and C&H Garments have already set up vertically integrated operations for export.
While these developments may sound like a win for both China and East Africa, there are valid concerns. Labor standards, limited local value addition, and whether these investments will truly build resilient domestic industries remain open questions. If East Africa is to claim its fair share, robust, mutually beneficial policy frameworks will be essential.
That urgency is already visible in Kenya’s new Draft Cotton, Textile, and Apparel (CTA) Policy (2024), which lays out an ambitious blueprint for revitalizing the sector. The plan centers on vertical integration — from cotton farming to finished garments — and envisions a globally competitive, sustainable, and inclusive apparel industry that shifts Kenya from an import-reliant to an export-driven economy.
That policy push is already gaining traction. During President William Ruto’s visit to China this week, Kenya secured fresh textile investment from Chongqing Shangcheng Apparel Group and Pengfeng Investment. The firms announced a USD 20 million (Ksh. 2.5 billion) plan to expand warehousing and manufacturing in Athi River and Murang’a, building on their current 3,200-strong workforce. The venture is projected to create 7,000 additional jobs over the next decade, with a 100,000-square-meter warehouse on Mombasa Road set to streamline raw material imports and product distribution — aligning closely with Kenya’s new CTA policy goals.
Controversially, the policy also proposes banning mitumba (second-hand clothing), a massive industry with deep, vested interests. Kenya previously attempted a similar move in 2016 alongside other EAC states, but the plan was shelved after intense lobbying from the US government and American textile exporters, who argued that a ban would violate terms under the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA). With AGOA’s current term set to lapse in September this year, the debate has resurfaced — this time against the backdrop of Nairobi’s push to position local textile manufacturing as a growth engine for jobs and exports.
Shifting Trade Winds
While the world’s attention is fixed on Chinese factory floors and viral TikTok exposés, East Africa’s ports have been quietly growing into critical nodes in global trade — particularly with China.
Samuel Marete, An economist based out of Nairobi noted that while Western economies operate in short-term election cycles, China’s “thinks in decades”— and the Global South is firmly in its long game. “In Africa, our license to consume will be production,” he said, emphasizing that increased purchasing power will have to be earned through local manufacturing, not debt-fueled consumption.
He added that direct-from-China buying trends may disrupt local pricing, but their long-term impact depends on two things: the region’s purchasing power and governments’ ability to effectively regulate imports. Without these, East Africa risks being sidelined in the very trade shift it hopes to benefit from.
In the end, whether the viral TikTok videos were staged or not, their impact is undeniable. They’ve chipped away at long-held assumptions about where value comes from and who gets to decide it. While pricing in luxury often rests on brand narrative rather than production cost, a public spotlight on origins and pricing disparities might put downward pressure on perceived value, particularly among younger, hyper-online consumers.
And for East Africa, the lesson here isn’t just about China’s manufacturing muscle — it’s about the power of narrative, and how storytelling can move markets, shape reputations, and open new frontiers of opportunity.
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