gshc2020.com

2026-09-12T10:30:01.285Z

Jodi and Paul Sprague raised their daughters with a guiding principle: understand the value of a dollar. By elementary school, Evelyn and Olivia were learning about mortgages, car insurance, and basic accounting in the carpool lane.

Early one June morning, before Evelyn, 17, and Olivia, 19, left for their summer jobs, Jodi sat them down with news that threw the Spragues' carefully managed budget into question. The student-loan payments the family had budgeted for since 2015 were surging from $404 to $1,014 monthly, starting in September.

She and Olivia began to cry. Olivia was about to start her sophomore year at Georgia Southern University, and while her parents helped her pay for housing, that likely wouldn't be possible in the upcoming semester. Her first thought when she learned of Jodi's payment increase: how would she afford her rent?

The 150% increase comes from President Donald Trump's student-loan repayment overhaul, which took effect on July 1. It eliminated the Biden-era SAVE repayment plan, which gave Jodi and millions of other borrowers affordable monthly payments.

The administration said its changes are intended to curb excessive borrowing, simplify a complex repayment system, and compel colleges to lower their tuition. Over the past year, more than a thousand borrowers have told Business Insider that they're taking on extra work, postponing retirement, and worrying they'll default because of higher monthly bills.

The payment is in Jodi's name, but it will reshape decisions across the household. As Olivia prepares to borrow more for college and Evelyn weighs an expensive career path, Jodi and Paul have to decide how much more work, debt, and sacrifice the family can absorb.

"When the kids were little, and there was a dollar in our checking account until payday, we made it," said Jodi, 54. Her student loans are no different.

"It's going to hurt," she said, "but I'm going to pay them."

Jodi's parents saw college as the key to wealth and pushed their daughters to attend. At 18, she borrowed a minimal amount to pursue a two-year degree at a small Bible college. Looking back, Jodi's shocked it was that easy to take on debt.

After seven years as a stay-at-home mom left her depressed and unfulfilled, Jodi decided to go back to school. Teaching would offer the challenge she needed and the career she wanted. Paul, a city employee, worried about managing the cost of a degree while raising a family, but he had faith in Jodi. "She's always been very driven. Very smart."

Jodi now has a $144,000 student-loan balance, from a history degree at Kennesaw State University and a master's in teaching from the University of West Georgia.

"We took the maximum out," Jodi, now a middle school teacher, said. "We were able to survive because of the student-loan money."

Survival has shaped the Spragues. Two years ago, a tree split open the roof of their home. For a whole school year, the family of four lived in a small rental with their dog Bailey, while their home underwent repairs.

"It was absolutely devastating for our family to be literally displaced," Jodi said. "But again, we learned so much from it. We learned that we don't need that much."

The first moment Evelyn and Olivia knew they weren't rich was when everyone at kindergarten had American Girl Dolls, but they didn't.

They asked for Christmas presents in July to give their parents more time to save up; one year, Olivia got a bottle of Chick-fil-A Polynesian sauce while her friends were getting iPads and cash. When Evelyn's friends wanted to go out to dinner, she was often the one to say no — she had to wait for her next paycheck from Whataburger.

In 2011, when the daughters were toddlers, Jodi accumulated credit card debt she couldn't repay, and the Spragues filed for bankruptcy. One day, she didn't know how she'd afford groceries — until an $80 refund check from a dentist appointment arrived in the mail.

"I just broke down," Jodi said. "That's how tight it was."

We've always had an open dialogue about money because my parents were the opposite.

Evelyn and Olivia were too young to understand what bankruptcy meant. Jodi and Paul made it their mission to do what their parents hadn't.

"We've always had an open dialogue about money because my parents were the opposite," Jodi said. "They didn't teach us anything. Everything was secret, secret."

Olivia recalled an added pressure that came with those financial lessons.

"I remember being in the car line in the morning, and my mom was like, 'You have to get good grades so you can go to school for free,'" Olivia said. "So it's always been in the back of my mind that school is really expensive."

In high school, Olivia got an 89% on a biology test and cried so much that she had to go home; she worried the B+ would ruin her chances at a scholarship. In 7th grade, Evelyn started a spreadsheet mapping out potential college courses and their costs.

"Unfortunately, it's probably put a lot of pressure on them," Paul said. "But that's what it is."

Olivia received Georgia's HOPE scholarship, but it didn't cover her full tuition. So Jodi took out $19,000 in parent PLUS loans for Olivia's first year.

Now, with the family's tighter budget, Olivia is taking out $6,000 this semester — the most she can borrow federally — to cover her rent and other expenses and prevent Jodi from borrowing further.

"I can't really take the time to pick up another job because I'd be putting my schoolwork on the back burner," said Olivia, who's studying public relations. "So I'd rather just deal with it later, with my student loans."

Evelyn is now applying to colleges, and while she dreams of playing in a band, she's pursuing forensic pathology instead. However, the cost of a medical degree has her second-guessing that route.

Paul, 60, has looked into taking on a second job. He said retirement is "just not a reality right now." If it came down to it, he said he would look at using his life insurance to help his daughters pay off any debt they accumulate.

The family has also started making smaller sacrifices. They've cut back on their streaming subscriptions and canceled their September vacation to Florida. Paul is learning simple mechanical fixes for his car instead of taking it to the shop. Olivia decided not to rush a sorority because of the cost.

Jodi has about three years of payments left toward Public Service Loan Forgiveness, which forgives student debt for government and nonprofit workers, like teachers, after 10 years of qualifying payments. She's concerned that the higher payments will push back that timeline if she falls behind. The stakes are also higher because the Education Department now requires PSLF payments on new income-driven repayment plans to be made exactly on the due date — there was previously a grace period — or they will not count toward PSLF progress.

Other student-loan borrowers are facing similar pressures. More will start transitioning off the SAVE plan in the coming months and face higher payments. Some borrowers said they're concerned about defaulting and facing wage garnishment and the seizure of federal benefits, such as Social Security.

Paul and Jodi said that while they believed setting Evelyn and Olivia up for college was in their best interests, they would still support them if they decided not to go. Jodi teaches her seventh-grade students that college isn't always worth the investment, and that they could be better off pursuing trade school.

Paul learned that lesson decades ago. He paid his own way through a stint at community college before he met Jodi, but he quickly realized that his career mapping for city government didn't require a degree. So he dropped out — and avoided student debt of his own.

"It was the greatest decision I ever made," Paul said.

• Student Debt Spiral
• Student Debt
• Student Loans
• More

Most popular

Business Insider tells the stories you want to know about the world of business, technology, and finance

Business Insider tells the stories you want to know about the world of business, technology, and finance

Business Insider tells the stories you want to know about the world of business, technology, and finance

Business Insider tells the stories you want to know about the world of business, technology, and finance

Business Insider tells the stories you want to know about the world of business, technology, and finance

Business Insider tells the stories you want to know about the world of business, technology, and finance

Ayelet Sheffey

You're currently following this author! Want to unfollow? Unsubscribe via the link in your email.

Ayelet Sheffey is a senior reporter at Business Insider covering education and student loans. She has appeared on shows including C-SPAN, CBS News, NPR, and SiriusXM to discuss her student-loan coverage, including her investigation on private student-loan lending.She graduated from American University in 2020 with a bachelor's degree in journalism. You can reach her via email at [email protected] or message her securely on Signal at asheffey.97. You can also find her on LinkedIn, and on Reddit at the username u/higheredjourno. %!s()

Emails and minutes of meetings reveal that London Underground managers admitted that face-fitted masks were not issued to staff until as late as 2020.

The documents suggest Transport for London (TfL), the public body responsible for London Underground, is at risk of more expensive legal claims after already paying out more than £7m in asbestos-related compensation and legal fees.

The documents were disclosed as part of an employment tribunal hearing brought by a former London Underground cleaner, Micky Steeds, who successfully claimed he was unfairly dismissed after raising concerns about exposure to asbestos and other toxic dust.

In one set of minutes, a manager said he had no recollection or record of face-fitted masks being issued in 2018 to the team responsible for cleaning dust from vents, which included asbestos-sheathed cables. He said such masks were not introduced to London Underground’s civils teams, responsible for all the tube buildings, until late 2020.

In December 2020, another manager who was head of lifts and escalators said: “A lot of people aren’t face-fitted,” adding: “Staff shouldn’t have worked without face fit, but it has happened.”

He blamed the failure on a lack of training.

In 2019, an email from a third manager said allowing Steeds to carry on working without a face-fitted mask was oversight that would be rectified in future. In a 2023 email, a fourth manager admitted that asbestos dust fibre sampling, which is also required under the law, was not conducted.

TfL has recorded more than 20,000 asbestos-containing materials across its network, according to data released under freedom of information to Confront Power – an investigative newsletter on industrial harms.

TfL insists it has controls in place to manage the risk of asbestos exposure to its staff and the public. In an email in December 2022, a senior engineer responsible for hazardous materials said test results showed levels were “below the relevant workplace exposure limits for both respirable and inhalable dust”. But he said dust being cleaned contained “traces of asbestos fibre occasionally”.

But Steeds and one of his former colleagues point out that tests were not conducted while the asbestos was being cleaned and disturbed.

And minutes of meetings between staff and a manager also revealed issues with damaged asbestos, which is more dangerous. One experienced cleaner said he encountered asbestos on cables 90% of the time and sometimes: “Broken chunks of asbestos or cable shearing.”

Asked what he did when he found asbestos, he said: “We would just carry on and use common sense … don’t bash cables and do what you can.”

Catriona Ratcliffe, a solicitor from the personal injury team at LeighDay, said: “Where the asbestos materials are damaged or in poor condition, the risk of exposure is higher because there is more opportunity for the fibres to be released into the atmosphere.”

Earlier this year Ratcliffe secured a six-figure settlement from TfL for a former inspector who was diagnosed with sarcomatoid mesothelioma 27 years after supervising the removal of asbestos from the Northern Line.

She said the documents in Steeds’ case could result in more injury claims. She added: “If someone is exposed to asbestos over many years, even at low levels, that is going to put that person at risk. And if the employer had knowledge of the risk of exposure, that could result in a legal claim if they have not taken the precautions required under regulations.

“Under the control of asbestos regulations [if exposure to asbestos is unavoidable] employers should be giving workers full protection including face-fitted respiratory masks to reduce that risk as far as possible.”

Steeds, who was not fitted with a proper mask for 15 months, said: “Over the years, TfL must have put the health of hundreds of workers at risk by failing in their legal duty to provide fitted masks. It makes me so angry that even when I told them about it, they ignored my concerns and tried to cover it up. The incompetent managers who allowed this to happen now have serious questions to answer.”

Rob Donnan, a former LU cleaner who is appealing against an employment tribunal’s rejection of his claim for unfair dismissal, said he worked without a fitted mask for three years. He estimated that up to 80 cleaners in the vents department alone were not fitted with masks between 2002 and 2020 and that a further 300 staff in the escalator department were similarly unprotected.

A TfL spokesperson said: “We have strict controls in place, in line with the government’s control of asbestos regulations, which ensure customers and staff are not at risk from exposure to asbestos when travelling or working on the tube network. Our specialist teams monitor and manage locations where asbestos has been found to ensure the safety of everyone travelling or working on the network.”

They added that, as TfL was appealing against Steeds’ successful tribunal ruling, it was unable to comment further. %!s()

Millions of Americans seem tired of politics after a decade dominated by Trump. So the US president’s decision to close out this week’s first ever Republican midterm convention with a plea – treat November’s congressional elections as a referendum on Trump himself – was received by his Democratic opponents with glee.

They saw the president’s core pitch as a combination of begging and bribery. First he urged voters to “pretend that I’m on the ballot”. Then he promised $5,000 payouts to every US adult if Republicans retain control of the House of Representatives and Senate in November.

Andy Beshear, the Democratic governor of Kentucky, told reporters on Thursday: “If Donald Trump wants to hold a convention saying this election is about him, I fully support his decision. He’s telling me to pretend that he is on the ballot – I want people to pretend that he is on the ballot.”

But with hundreds of members of Congress and candidates staying away from the convention, most seats in the upper tier remained empty both nights. Trump’s keynote speech drew a modest 2.5 million viewers on Fox News, ⁠according to ⁠Nielsen data. Some attendees expressed discontent over the cost of living and Iran war while starting to look beyond the president to potential successors in 2028.

With Trump’s approval rating at a historic low, it was far from certain that the two-day “Trump-a-palooza” will have the desired effect of galvanising the party’s base and recreating the turnout that powered his 2016 and 2024 presidential election victories.

Holding a convention in a midterm year was an attempt to make history in order to defy history. The party that holds the White House typically suffers midterm losses: George W Bush’s Republicans took a “thumping” in 2006, while Barack Obama’s Democrats endured a “shellacking” in 2010.

The omens this year are no less foreboding: the Decision Desk HQ website projects that Democrats are poised to capture the House of Representatives 229-206, with the Senate hanging on a knife-edge at 50-50.

The spectacle in Dallas was rapidly pulled together at Trump’s behest after the host committee raised $45m in three weeks. It had some familiar trappings, including tall state delegations on the convention floor, fiery speeches and a celebratory balloon drop at the end, but no nominations or formal business. And there was no doubt who was the star of the show.

Trump’s image was everywhere in the corridors of the American Airlines Center. Attendees wore clothes with phrases such as “Trump tribe”, “Trump has our back” and “Proud deplorable”. Speaker after speaker lavished him with effusive praise.

Among them was Robert Kennedy Jr, the health secretary, who recalled their meeting soon after Trump survived a shooting in Butler, Pennsylvania: “I discovered a self-effacing man of superior intelligence, of empathy and compassion, with an encyclopedic grasp of the issues in molecular detail. And most of all, a near reckless courage to challenge vested interests and official orthodoxies.”

But while the Trump personality cult was alive and well, another theme was just as prominent. Unable to point to falling grocery bills or peace in the Middle East, the convention leaned heavily into fear, painting a nightmarish portrait of what the US would look like with the Democrats back in charge.

Images of the influencer Hasan Piker and other leftwing figures loomed ominously on giant video screens. A narrator’s voice boomed: “Today’s extreme left hasn’t simply moved away from Republicans. It has moved away from Democrats in its own party. Far beyond the common sense of the American people. This is no longer simply Republican versus Democrat or conservative versus liberal. Today, the choice is unmistakable. Extreme versus mainstream.”

Numerous speeches sought to whip up a new red scare. Treasury secretary Scott Bessent warned that Democrats wanted to transform the US into a “socialist hellscape” while House Speaker Mike Johnson framed the midterms as a simple choice between “common sense and crazy”.

Many speakers emphasised their own Christian faith while stressing the godlessness of communism and conflating it with threats from outside America’s borders, at times invoking the 25th anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks.

Senator Ted Cruz of Texas said: “We are witnessing a new and dangerous red-green alliance – communists and Islamists coming together and sweeping over the Democrat party. They are united because they share the same enemies. They hate Christians, they hate Jews, they hate capitalism, they hate the constitution, and they hate America!”

There were shouts in the arena of “He should be shot!” as Cruz singled out some leading progressives by name: “When people tell you who they are, believe them. When Hasan Piker says, America deserved 9/11, believe him. When Mamdani says he wants to seize the means of production, he means it. When Abdul El-Sayed says he has an ‘obligation’ to comply with Sharia law, he means it. And when James Talarico says he wants to dismantle capitalism, he means this.”

On the convention floor, Republicans echoed Cruz’s apocalyptic framing. Pavel Sokolov, 33, vice-chair of the New Jersey Republican party, drew on his personal background to reinforce the point. “I was born in the former Soviet Union; my parents and I fled that exact rhetoric,” Sokolov said. “It always starts nice and friendly, saying everyone must pay their fair share. But it inevitably ends up the same. In the Soviet Union, ostensibly everyone was equal, yet somehow the party bosses ate caviar every day.”

Conversely, most speakers swerved past voters’ everyday concerns about the cost of living and Trump’s war of choice in Iran. Trump himself claimed that concerns about ‌inflation were exaggerated and the word “affordable” was “fake”. Interviews with more than a dozen attendees found staunch support for him – but with some reservations beneath the surface.

Gregorio Heise, 59, a disabled army veteran from Texas, described Trump’s second term as “friggin’ awesome”, explaining: “I prefer to pay $5 a gallon [of gas] and put my head on a pillow and wake up knowing this country is still here than watching it go boom with a nuke. No, thank you. I’m a vet and I didn’t serve this country to watch it go to crap.”

Joseph Ditto, a 50-year-old statistician from suburban Minneapolis wearing an elephant-patterned Republican tie, admitted his frustration with the administration’s foreign policy. “I’m not a fan of the war in Iran. I hope it’s over quickly,” he said. “I voted for the anti-war Trump, so that’s frustrating.”

Democrats, who held three midterm conventions in 1974, 1978 and 1982 with mixed results, have no plans for a rival event this time. But some travelled to Dallas to counter the Republican messaging.

Sydney Kamlager-Dove, a congresswoman from California, highlighted what she saw as the fundamental disconnect of Trump’s second term. “Last night, Donald Trump was talking about how he wanted to build a big ballroom like they have in China,” she said. “The average American family can’t afford groceries or gas, and he’s fantasising about a ballroom in the people’s house. This entire event is built around one man who likes to hear himself talk.”

To many political strategists, turning a midterm election into a direct referendum on an incumbent president whose national approval rating languishes in the low-to-mid 30s looks like a huge own goal. But Trump’s energetic performance on Wednesday night buoyed Republicans who believe he retains a unique ability to galvanise people who might not otherwise vote at all.

David Hopkins, a professor of political science at Boston College, said: “There’s been a lot of journalistic dunking on Trump saying that making the election more about him is an ego trip winning out over smart strategy. That’s not an unreasonable take but there’s another way to look at it. The worst-case scenario for Republicans is that Republican voters stay home.”

Hopkins pointed out that Trump commands a unique, low-propensity “Make America great again” (Maga) electorate that turns out passionately for him but frequently ignores down-ballot congressional races when his name is absent. “If they can’t get those people out, it looks like a real national wipeout.”

The midterm convention also offered an intriguing subplot: the question of who inherits the Maga movement when Trump, the 45th and 47th president, is gone.

Vice-President JD Vance was greeted by chants of “JD 48!” as he delivered Thursday night’s keynote address. He spoke at length about his family while describing Democrats as “the party that despises America and the people who built it”. When a protester waving a Mexican flag briefly interrupted his speech, Vance drew thunderous applause with a sharp put-down: “Well, my friend, if you love Mexico so much, get your ass over there. I’ll buy you the plane ticket.”

In the concourses, delegates were actively sizing up the potential 2028 field. While Vance commands a substantial lead in early polling among Republican primary voters, several other names – most notably secretary of state Marco Rubio and Florida governor Ron DeSantis – were frequently cited.

Heise said: “Marco Rubio is doing everything. He’s building on the foundations this country was created on in 1776.” Chris Daniel, 44, from Houston, who has been a delegate at every Republican convention since 2004, echoed that sentiment. “I prefer Marco Rubio over Vance if I had to pick one today. He has proven his ability to lead in any capacity.”

Rusat Ramgopal, 26, executive director of the Queens county Republican party in New York, envisioned a pragmatic resolution to avoid a damaging primary battle. “Instead of a divisive primary between Vance and Rubio, I think the two of them and the president will sit down in a room and decide the ticket,” he predicted. “It just depends on who is top of the ticket and who is vice president.”

Republicans declared the convention a triumph. Outside the arena, the verdict was rather less enthusiastic.

Veteran pollster John Zogby described the two-day gathering as an “act of desperation” that highlighted internal vulnerabilities rather than strength. “The president promised that the war in Iran would end by August, inflation would be down by August, fuel prices would be low again by August,” Zogby noted. “None of those have been achieved. We have moved from the politics of anger into the politics of disappointment.” %!s()

During his time in the East African nation, the Burundian says he has always found Kenyans to be friendly and welcoming - that is until last week, when the president ordered a crackdown on foreigners working as traders or operating small-scale businesses.

"Now they have turned against us," he told the BBC at the Burundian embassy in Nairobi where many have been queuing this week for documents to allow them to travel back home.

"The threats are many… even from children," he said, adding: "It's a like a dog has been set loose upon us. We have been bitten."

President William Ruto made his remarks last week when addressing Kenyan traders gathered at state house - in reference to legislation before parliament that seeks to exclude foreign nationals from petty trade and to mandate the local sourcing of certain materials.

During his speech, he said that all foreign nationals operating small businesses had until 7 September to pack up shop, saying such low-level jobs should be reserved for Kenyans.

Ali, like others, panicked, saying it seemed the president's announcement had been interpreted by some Kenyans as a signal that foreign nationals were no longer welcome in the country.

"We face harassment and can't work," he says. "If our work is stopped, we lose the income that enables us to pay rent and buy food. When those jobs are taken away, the only option left is to return home."

Other Burundians and some other foreign nationals have rushed to border crossing points to leave the country, with reports suggesting that a number have ended up stranded there.

Some couples fear they will be forced to separate - and some families have already been divided.

"I have been here from 2019," said a Burundian man, who identified himself only as Prosper and who has a child with a Kenyan woman.

"When I heard the announcement, it was very painful because when I go, I'm forced to leave my family... and I love my family," he told the BBC.

In Nairobi's low-income neighbourhood of Majengo, Kenyan Grace Wamaitha said her Burundian husband had already gone - leaving the day after the president's 3 September directive.

She is distraught as she has been left trying to feed their five children - and has taken on extra work washing clothes.

"Now he's gone, who will help me pay school fees? I don't know what to do. Let them come back," she told the BBC.

In Nairobi and other major towns, migrants from the region can be found working in barber shops and salons, construction, operating motorbike taxis and street vending, as well as selling clothes, food and household goods.

Some have fled conflicts or economic hardship at home, while others have moved to Kenya in search of better opportunities. Within the East African Community (EAC), a regional bloc made up of eight countries, including Burundi and Kenya, the relative free movement of people is allowed - but employment and long-term residence do require permits.

Kenyan law also recognises the right of refugees to work and operate businesses, although they are also required to obtain the appropriate documentation.

Filmon Eyob, a co-ordinator within Nairobi's Eritrean community, agrees with concerns that the crackdown order will be used as pretext to harass foreigners.

He told the BBC that while many Kenyans had been supportive and welcoming, some Eritreans and Ethiopians had closed their businesses and stayed at home over the last week as a precaution.

The president's remarks also sparked a diplomatic row, with the Burundian foreign affairs minister warning that "hate speech against Burundi" could have repercussions for Kenyans abroad.

The authorities in Kenya have struggled to contain the fallout - and as the matter came to a head, Kenyan foreign affairs official Korir Sing'Oei visited and apologised to Burundians at the embassy this week, assuring them of protection from violence.

Critics argue that Ruto's remarks were a populist move that risked stoking xenophobia, although the government has denied this.

Since then, a series of official statements have sought to clarify the directive.

The government has now given a 90-day window for undocumented foreign nationals running small business to register and comply with local laws. During the process, those undergoing registration will be presumed to be living legally in Kenya.

Yet observers and those affected argue that it did not have to be this way.

Academic Hesbon Owilla told the BBC the president's comments were bound to be misinterpreted, especially by people who did not have the right documentation.

He says that while the proposed policy is good for Kenya and in line with global migration protocols, the communication about it ought to have been more diplomatic.

For those not in the audience, Owilla says people interpreted the president words as saying: "We are kicking these guys out."

The president did not stop at small-scale traders. A day later, he ordered India's Tata Chemicals to leave the country, saying the company had not provided sufficient benefits to the local Maasai community in Kajiado county.

Tata has been mining soda ash for years in Lake Magadi, a vast area often covered by a whitish salt crust. The lake's extreme briny environment sustains algae blooms that attract flamboyances of pink flamingos that thrive in the area.

Mining operations began at the lake in 1911 under a British colonial arrangement that is said to have remained largely intact, despite long-running land and resource disputes pitting the company and its predecessors against community and the government.

Economist Odhiambo Ramogi argues that the move to restrict foreign nationals from businesses is too broad - and could do with finessing.

He points out that Kenya hosts hundreds of thousands of refugees as well as other migrants, mostly from the EAC region, as well as other international investors.

Ramogi says that Ruto's intention seemed to go beyond "just protecting jobs for Kenyans".

The president's remarks have prompted a wave of support for foreign nationals, including by civil society groups and ordinary Kenyans who have criticised his approach.

In the wake of the criticism, Ruto, who is up for re-election next year, has sought to counter the backlash.

"Kenya will remain an open, secure and welcoming country, protecting opportunities for its citizens, safeguarding the rights of all persons lawfully within its borders," a statement by his spokesman said.

"Kenya's commitment to the East African Community of the African continent remains firm."

Ramogi says that in the end, it is Kenya that stands to lose when citizens of neighbouring countries are targeted.

He points out that Kenya earned $56m (£41m) in exports to Burundi last year, adding that the country would still benefit by allowing competition, as "locking out aliens simply means you don't want a competitive economy that gets to grow a lot faster".

"Now, if you got $56m out of a country, why are you worried about a hawker who's just trying to make, say, $200 in a month?

"It absolutely makes no sense what the president has done."

For Nairobi resident Lima Kabura, whose husband is Tanzanian, the president's remarks were just too hasty. She says he should have first established those who were in the country illegally.

"When they are forced out, I'm left with no work, no business and no husband," she said.

Additional reporting by Ahmed Bahajj %!s()