African nations are fed up with the West’s hand-me-downs. But it’s tough to keep them out.
Shoppers at Nyamirambo market in Rwanda’s capital, Kigali, often have to sort through piles of used clothing to find what they want. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
KIGALI, Rwanda — When spring cleaning comes around in the United States, dropping well-loved clothes into a donation box can feel like an act of selflessness. Those stained sweaters, summer camp T-shirts and out-of-fashion shorts will clothe someone needier, right?
It’s actually a little more complicated. Most of America’s castoff clothes are sold by the Salvation Army, Goodwill and others to private companies. Bales of used clothing are then shipped by the container-load, mostly to sub-Saharan Africa, in what has become a billion-dollar industry.
African governments have become increasingly fed up. What many in the West think of as a gesture of generosity, they say, is preventing them from building their own apparel industries. In March 2016, four East African countries decided to raise tariffs on used clothing, in some cases to as much as 20 times the previous rate.
The American used-clothing lobby sounded the alarm, and last year, the Trump administration began investigating whether the four nations were violating an 18-year-old trade agreement with the United States. Under pressure, the East African governments lowered their tariffs to previous rates.
Except Rwanda.
Now, a Rwandan leader who styles himself as a proud visionary is suffering the consequences of his decision to stand up to Washington.
This week, Rwanda faces the suspensionof some of its duty-free trading privileges pertaining to clothing under the African Growth and Opportunity Act. Its efforts to foster a domestic clothing industry, meanwhile, have yielded few results. And Rwandans who work in the used-clothing business are complaining that they are suffering.
The deadlock between the world’s economic giant and one of Africa’s fastest-growing economies doesn’t exactly qualify as a trade war — it’s more like a scuffle. Rwanda’s total used-clothing imports were less than 7 percent of all of East Africa’s in 2016, according to government statistics. And its clothing exports to the United States were a minuscule $2 million.
But it reflects the difficulties that even a low-wage country like Rwanda can have developing an industry in an intensely competitive global market.
President Paul Kagame is betting that he can kick-start Rwandan manufacturing while weaning his country off the used clothing he sees as undignified. He is one of a number of African leaders who want to stem a tide of used items — from clothes to electronics to medical equipment — that end up on the continent after someone else has gotten rid of them.
“As far as I am concerned, making the choice is simple,” Kagame told reporters last June, referring to the trade dispute. “We might suffer consequences.” However, he said, Rwanda and other countries in the region “have to grow and establish our industries.”
Rwanda, like other East African countries, used to produce most of its own clothes. But in the 1980s, regional leaders worked with the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund to open up their economies and permit greater trade. That resulted in an influx of cheap imports. Political turmoil, including the Rwandan genocide in 1994, further harmed the local industry.
The clothing currently produced in Rwanda for the local market is mostly high-end and aimed at urban professionals.
Kagame’s government recently launched “Made in Rwanda,” a campaign to encourage and subsidize local production. It has, however, made scant progress so far. The luxury brand Kate Spade now assembles handbags for export in Rwanda, and two other factories have opened — one Rwandan and one Chinese-owned.
Employees at a Chinese-owned factory on the outskirts of Rwanda’s capital, Kigali, prepare safety vests for export to Britain, where they will be worn by police officers. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
Workers at a Chinese-owned factory on the outskirts of Kigali prepare polo shirts ahead of an increase in tariffs that will make Rwandan-made clothes costlier for U.S. distributors. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
This Chinese-owned factory on the edge of Kigali is part of President Paul Kagame’s push to develop a Rwandan clothing industry. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
Rwanda suffers from numerous competitive disadvantages. It is landlocked and far from shipping ports; its domestic market is tiny and mostly poor; and it lacks a trained workforce. It won’t become the next Vietnam or Bangladesh anytime soon.
Shoppers at Nyamirambo market in Rwanda’s capital, Kigali, often have to sort through piles of used clothing to find what they want. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
KIGALI, Rwanda — When spring cleaning comes around in the United States, dropping well-loved clothes into a donation box can feel like an act of selflessness. Those stained sweaters, summer camp T-shirts and out-of-fashion shorts will clothe someone needier, right?
It’s actually a little more complicated. Most of America’s castoff clothes are sold by the Salvation Army, Goodwill and others to private companies. Bales of used clothing are then shipped by the container-load, mostly to sub-Saharan Africa, in what has become a billion-dollar industry.
African governments have become increasingly fed up. What many in the West think of as a gesture of generosity, they say, is preventing them from building their own apparel industries. In March 2016, four East African countries decided to raise tariffs on used clothing, in some cases to as much as 20 times the previous rate.
The American used-clothing lobby sounded the alarm, and last year, the Trump administration began investigating whether the four nations were violating an 18-year-old trade agreement with the United States. Under pressure, the East African governments lowered their tariffs to previous rates.
Except Rwanda.
Now, a Rwandan leader who styles himself as a proud visionary is suffering the consequences of his decision to stand up to Washington.
This week, Rwanda faces the suspensionof some of its duty-free trading privileges pertaining to clothing under the African Growth and Opportunity Act. Its efforts to foster a domestic clothing industry, meanwhile, have yielded few results. And Rwandans who work in the used-clothing business are complaining that they are suffering.
The deadlock between the world’s economic giant and one of Africa’s fastest-growing economies doesn’t exactly qualify as a trade war — it’s more like a scuffle. Rwanda’s total used-clothing imports were less than 7 percent of all of East Africa’s in 2016, according to government statistics. And its clothing exports to the United States were a minuscule $2 million.
But it reflects the difficulties that even a low-wage country like Rwanda can have developing an industry in an intensely competitive global market.
President Paul Kagame is betting that he can kick-start Rwandan manufacturing while weaning his country off the used clothing he sees as undignified. He is one of a number of African leaders who want to stem a tide of used items — from clothes to electronics to medical equipment — that end up on the continent after someone else has gotten rid of them.
“As far as I am concerned, making the choice is simple,” Kagame told reporters last June, referring to the trade dispute. “We might suffer consequences.” However, he said, Rwanda and other countries in the region “have to grow and establish our industries.”
Rwanda, like other East African countries, used to produce most of its own clothes. But in the 1980s, regional leaders worked with the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund to open up their economies and permit greater trade. That resulted in an influx of cheap imports. Political turmoil, including the Rwandan genocide in 1994, further harmed the local industry.
The clothing currently produced in Rwanda for the local market is mostly high-end and aimed at urban professionals.
Kagame’s government recently launched “Made in Rwanda,” a campaign to encourage and subsidize local production. It has, however, made scant progress so far. The luxury brand Kate Spade now assembles handbags for export in Rwanda, and two other factories have opened — one Rwandan and one Chinese-owned.
Employees at a Chinese-owned factory on the outskirts of Rwanda’s capital, Kigali, prepare safety vests for export to Britain, where they will be worn by police officers. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
Workers at a Chinese-owned factory on the outskirts of Kigali prepare polo shirts ahead of an increase in tariffs that will make Rwandan-made clothes costlier for U.S. distributors. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
This Chinese-owned factory on the edge of Kigali is part of President Paul Kagame’s push to develop a Rwandan clothing industry. (Jacques Nkinzingabo/For The Washington Post)
Rwanda suffers from numerous competitive disadvantages. It is landlocked and far from shipping ports; its domestic market is tiny and mostly poor; and it lacks a trained workforce. It won’t become the next Vietnam or Bangladesh anytime soon.
