Introduction
I’m walking through Mwenge, one of Dar es Salaam’s central business districts. I’ve been spending time here with Hassan, a petty cosmetics trader, who carries his goods in a suitcase as he makes his daily tour of the market. We’ve been walking a while and Hassan suggests that we stop by at his favourite salon, Lina’s Beauty Salon. He says:
“Lina is my friend, so she always tells me what new products her customers like. Sometimes she lets me rest in her salon. So, I sit and listen; I then go and buy the products and then sell them here.”
When we arrive at Lina’s, we meet Mikidadi, another petty cosmetics trader, taking a break from his long tour of the market. We start talking about Mwenge, and their experience with customers and products. I ask them whether product quality or the possibility of fake cosmetic products is ever a concern for their customers? Mikidadi explains:
“If I can use this lipstick for example, and my lips aren’t burning, then the women trust me. So, I take the lipstick out from the package, and I apply it on my lips, and I say, ‘See, nothing is happening!’ I make my customers feel comfortable, and if they’re comfortable, they’ll come buy from me again, knowing that my products are OG [original].”
For “suitcase traders” like Hassan and Mikidadi, turning public spaces into market opportunities, whether through chance encounters with a passer-by or in beauty salons, is part of their daily routine. The suitcase trader, who is the middleman in this article, forms a subcategory of what is known as wamachinga. Wamachinga are mobile street hawkers or petty traders, often migrants who have come from villages into Tanzania’s capital city of Dar es Salaam (Rizzo, 2011).
What is interesting about the suitcase trader is that, unlike other wamachinga who sell shoes, cloth, mobile chargers, or even food from stalls, suitcase traders circulate through streets and salons, carrying their products in hand luggage. This mode of selling allows them to occupy the market differently from more regulated traders, moving across and along its boundaries rather than remaining fixed within them. This article examines the relationship between fakes and middlemen to understand how claims about fake products are identified, but more importantly, how they are mitigated.
In Mwenge market, considerable uncertainty surrounds the circulation of fake products. While some may indeed pose risks according to global health standards (Cockburn et al. 2005, 302), they remain widely purchased. This reflects not only consumer demand but also the appeal of these goods as a means of accessing global commodities. Here, “fakes” encompass both counterfeit branded products, such as imitation MAC lipstick, and unregulated or illegal products.
The key to understanding suitcase traders operating in this environment of uncertainty lies not in asking whether the products they sell are fake or harmful, but in examining how they negotiate and manage suspicion around fakes. Such focus shifts away from fixing the question of whether a product is fake or not, as seen in many global discourses (Mwai 2020; World Health Organization 2024; Sirrs 2023; Buowari 2012), and toward the everyday practices through which suspicion and the perceived threat of counterfeit cosmetics are handled. In this way we are able to think critically of the role of middleman within global health discourses.
I argue that the figure of the “suitcase trader” of the Mwenge cosmetics market reveals forms of concern about fake products that are distinct from those articulated by public health officials. My analysis of these traders shows how these middlemen work to negotiate, mitigate and respond to consumers’ concerns about fakes. As set out in the introduction to this series, middleman with little formal training can still speak confidently on matters of health. They place themselves at important points where people, goods and ideas move (see Hodges, Hornberger and Thakur 2026, introduction to this series).
In the case of suitcase traders, it is their mobility which they use to powerfully disperse the suspicion that their products might be fake. They stage on-the-spot embodied performances of flirting, joking and singing that draw female customers into a playful, exaggerated sense of being desired. At the same time, the suitcase itself, as a symbol of distant travel, evokes access to desirable goods from abroad, reinforcing the seductive appeal while subtly deflecting attention from broader associations between cross-border circulation and the influx of fakes (Skeggs 2013).
Global public health concerns about fake cosmetics
Within global health research, much of the literature attempts to fix the ontology of the “fake”. Central questions include: Where do fakes come from? How do we determine what is fake or not? Interpol defines pharmaceutical crime as a major global public health concern, and the trade of counterfeit and illicit medical products as a “global criminal phenomenon” affecting all countries around the world.[1] Similarly, the World Health Organization (WHO) uses the slogan “counterfeit drugs kill” in their anti-counterfeiting campaigns (Seiter 2009).
Counterfeit medicines and products are a global public health concern. Public health narratives often emphasize the risks consumers face from unknowingly using fake drugs or products. Cosmetics are frequently highlighted in these discussions as examples of the health dangers posed by counterfeits. In Tanzania, fake cosmetics, especially skin-lightening products, feature prominently in debates about health risks (Karungamye 2023; Lewis et al. 2011; Mori, Meena and Kaale 2018; WHO 2024).
Skin lightening products, despite being banned in the country, can be found in many drugstores and cosmetics stores (Mori, Meena and Kaale, 2018). As a result, regulatory agencies such as Tanzania Bureau of Standards (TBS) and Tanzania Medicines and Medical Devices Authority (TMDA) have focused on cracking down on these products.[2] Perhaps it is their illegality that makes them “fake,” or perhaps it is simply easier to police fake cosmetics than medication. Skin lightening products, because of their outwardly visible effect on the body, become the prime example of the dangers of fake products on the human body (Dadzie and Petit 2009; Parvez et al. 2006). Moreover, because cosmetics are applied directly to the body, they are often considered close to medical products, at least in popular understanding, even if experts classify them differently. For consumers, cosmetics are strongly tied to the body, to health and achieving a “healthy appearance”.
Despite these grey areas between products and their effects, the counterfeit literature largely prioritizes risk and harm (WHO 2024) and assumes that it is necessary to clearly distinguish fake products from genuine ones. I argue instead that these blurred boundaries enable multiple meanings and understandings of fakes to emerge. The suitcase trader complicates conventional definitions of what counts as “fake,” prompting questions about what fake products mean to consumers, what they do for and to consumers, and how ideas of authenticity and fakeness are produced and negotiated in everyday life.
This is very much helped by the fluid identity and mobility of middlemen themselves. They are not defined by a fixed identity but by relationships. They move in between spaces and roles. From these relationships, certain characteristics and possibilities emerge. Furthermore, what makes them middlemen in global health is that they work with issues that matter to global health (see Hodges, Hornberger & Thakur 2026, introduction to this series).
In this section, I have analysed the broader contexts of “fakes” in global public health literature. In the following section, I will examine the markets in Tanzania and the regulation of “fake” cosmetics within these markets.
Understanding Mwenge Market and the regulation of cosmetic products in Tanzania
Mwenge Market exemplifies Tanzania’s traditional local markets, where traders operate both wholesale and retail businesses. The market hosts a diverse range of goods and services, including food, electronics, clothing, cosmetics, beauty parlours, spas and barbershops. Because many businesses operate informally or in hard-to-find locations, traders often depend on strong customer relationships to attract sales. This is especially true for suitcase traders, who actively cultivate these connections.
The market also demonstrates the close interaction between formal and informal trade, as registered stalls and petty traders share the same space. As shown in Figure 1, Hassan walks through the market with his suitcase alongside formal clothing stores and potential customers. When asked about challenges, Hassan emphasized a shared understanding among traders: “You’d think that there’d be so much competition between the registered traders versus us but honestly, we’re all just trying to make a living.”
This interconnectedness may also stem from shared experiences with police and regulatory bodies such as TMDA and TBS, which monitor the market for counterfeit cosmetic products. Like in many cities, petty traders are often associated with illegality and informality and are frequently portrayed as unwanted actors in the urban economy (Bhowmik 2010).
For example, Juma, a suitcase trader in the market, explained that from time to time the traders are harassed by police officers who ask them for money. He says, “Of course, they [police officers] try to take money from us. We know each other, though. It’s always the same ones stopping you. One time this officer asked me if I paid taxes for the products I’m selling. Why do I have to pay taxes? The person I bought the products from already did that, so it’s not my problem. I told her that and she let me go, only after I gave her money for a soda.”
The TMDA, formally the Tanzania Food and Drugs Authority (TFDA), was established in 2003 under the Ministry of Health to regulate the safety, quality and efficacy of food, medicines, cosmetics and medical devices.[3] During independence, various agencies were set up to regulate medicines in the country under the 1978 Pharmaceuticals and Poisons Act No. 9 (United Republic of Tanzania, 1978). However, the Pharmacy Board was not mandated to regulate cosmetics and medical devices. These products were neither registered by the Board nor regulated by any entity. However, with economic, social and technological changes, and the government’s implementation of free market policies, regulating cosmetics and medical devices became important and, as a result, there was a need to bring product control functions under one institution to meet the new challenges of the free market. TFDA became TMDA in 2019 and, after a shift of responsibilities, TBS became responsible for regulating food and cosmetics.[4]
Although responsibilities have shifted from TMDA to TBS, both agencies continue to police the market for what they classify as “unfit” products, including expired, damaged, adulterated, improperly stored or labelled, and counterfeit goods (TMDA 2015, 4). In 2021, TMDA confiscated fake beauty products worth about sh27 million (about $10,000) from La Happy Cosmetics in Mwanza, seizing 77 types of cosmetics and urging traders and consumers to avoid such goods (The Citizen 2021). Similarly, in 2023, TBS seized fake beauty products and medicines worth sh21 million from markets in Dodoma, Singida and Tabora.[5]
Overall, Mwenge market shows how formal and informal trade exist side by side in Tanzania. Suitcase traders navigate these spaces through personal relationships while managing suspicion that is placed on their informality by police and regulatory agencies like TMDA and TBS. By focusing on their customers and emphasizing the quality of their goods, suitcase traders actively shape and respond to perceptions of authenticity and fakeness, often making concerns about fake cosmetics a non-issue in practice.
Performing Desire
Using Hornberger and Hodges’s (2023) concept of “fake talk,” I analyse how suitcase traders use performance of trust and authenticity to ease concerns about fake cosmetics and public health risks. The concept of fake talk highlights that claims of fakeness can be understood for what they do in various social spaces. The power of fake talk is not in its evidence but in how it can bring resolution to the lack of evidence (Hornberger and Hodges 2023). In this case, it can resolve customers’ concerns about the threat of fake cosmetics.
Hassan, my host in Mwenge Market, guided me through the market during his daily rounds, demonstrating deep familiarity developed over years of work. During fieldwork with him and other traders, I also observed how they engaged with customers and strategically navigated concerns about fake products. Hassan emphasized that success in Mwenge depends on understanding customers, building trust, and knowing which products are in demand. As he explained, although traders often sell similar goods, “what differentiates you from other traders is your relationship with the customer. You must know how to impress women.”
When Hassan told me this, it confirmed for me what I had already observed: suitcase traders would often flirt with their customers by complimenting them or singing to them. For example, Hassan would call his customers “mpenzi” (my love) or “shemeji” (sister-in-law).[6] Similarly, Juma would call his customers “mchumba” (fiancée) or compliment them on their smile and call them beautiful. In another instance, I passed a suitcase trader in a salon, singing as he was showcasing his products: “Nampenda, msichana mmoja, mweupe kidogo, mweusi kidogo” (I love her, love her, this woman. She’s a little light skinned, a little dark skinned).
At first, I didn’t think much of it because this often happens to women. It was only when Hassan pointed out that he purposely flirts with women because he believes that it is the only way he gets his customers to buy his products, that I realized this was a way for traders to form relationships with their customer base and gain their trust, a sort of performance to attract more customers. Hassan said:
“All women like to be complimented and made to feel beautiful. The only reason why she’s buying something from me is because she doesn’t feel beautiful. So, I make her feel beautiful, it always works.”
Mikidadi, another trader, when explaining to me why there are more male suitcase traders than women, said: “Women don’t want to be complimented by other women. I know the products and she can trust me when I tell her that she’ll look beautiful. Another woman could be jealous of her and lie to her. It’s easy with me.”
These traders’ performances were highly gendered. They believed that when they positioned themselves as men who knew what their female customers wanted, in this case being desired and complimented, they would gain their customers’ trust. For them, treating each customer like their girlfriend or wife, courting them, meant that they would be able to make a sale. By flirting with the customers, the traders believed that they could determine the kind of products that are popular with the customers and at the same time create relationships that enable them to continue selling their products, as in the case of Mikidadi putting on lipstick to prove authenticity.
Observing the women in the interactions, I noticed that some of them reacted rather irritated. But most of them played along: not because they actually fell for the trader, but perhaps because there was something rather theatrical and exaggerated about the trader’s advances. It turned the encounter from a form of harassment into a form of play, which woman did not mind and which often made them laugh and give the trader a chance.
Quality and authenticity were also performed through the act of selling the products in carry-on suitcases. This suitcase was an important prompt in this performance of desire and desirability. It evoked the fantasy of international travel and trade. The suitcases that these traders carry are compact carry-on bags, carefully filled with a wide array of goods. Their small size allows everything to be displayed at once, making the cosmetic products immediately visible to potential customers.
According to the traders, the products were deemed sellable if they were internationally branded or expensive, and selling products in carry-on bags provided that illusion. Mikidadi explained the difference:
“Women want products that come from abroad. I think it makes them feel like they’re getting something of high value. When we sell products that are written in Swahili, no one buys them. Sometimes, I sell a product knowing that it is made here [in Tanzania], but as long as it’s written in English or French, women buy.”
The traders also explained that this is the reason why they sell the products in carry-on suitcases. Juma explained:
“Before, we used to sell our products by hand, but quickly we realized that selling like that, women don’t buy. They want to see something of quality. Quality things come in the right packaging. When we sell our products in the suitcase, it’s like we went to China and Kenya to get the products ourselves.”
For suitcase traders, the suitcase helped create the impression that their goods came from abroad. Because locally manufactured products were often associated with low quality or fake goods, traders used this image of international trade to reassure customers. The suitcase itself served as a visible marker of authenticity, even though customers did not necessarily believe the products were truly imported. What made these traders persuasive was not the truth of their claims but how they performed them. Through flirting, compliments and suggestions of foreign origin, they worked to mitigate concerns about fake cosmetics and build trust in their products
Conclusion
By exploring the relationship between suitcase traders and their customers, my analysis uncovered how these traders work to negotiate, mitigate and respond to consumers’ concerns about fakes. Suitcase traders succeed by developing a deep, experience-based understanding of Mwenge market, the products and their customers. They recognize that customers are drawn to imported goods for their perceived quality and status, but also worry about risks like fake products. They also understand the complexities of determining what is fake and what is not.
Using this insight, traders position their goods as both desirable and trustworthy. They draw on diverse forms of knowledge, including contemporary beauty ideals, historical and social constructions of beauty, economic dimensions of consumption, and global health discourses concerning product safety and counterfeit goods. In doing so, they appeal to women’s aspirations about beauty while reassuring them about safety.
By highlighting the role of suitcase traders as trusted middleman, this study challenges dominant global health narratives that frame informal traders and markets as inherently risky, instead revealing how trust, authenticity and knowledge around health are actively produced within them. It further shows that global health is not only governed by institutions and policies, but is also shaped through everyday practices of exchange, negotiation, persuasion, adaptation and performance, as well as the relationships that sustain them.
[1] https://www.interpol.int/en/Crimes/Illicit-goods/Pharmaceutical-crime-operations
[2] https://www.thecitizen.co.tz/tanzania/oped/let-us-crack-down-on-these-fake-cosmetics-2530316
[3] https://www.tmda.go.tz/pages/tfda-profile
[4] https://www.tmda.go.tz/uploads/publications/en1546244565-10%20Years%20Book%20english-2.pdf
[5] https://fullshangweblog.co.tz/2023/12/09/tbs-yateketeza-chakula-na-vipodozi-feki-zenye-thamani-ya-zaidi-milioni-21-8/
[6] “Shemeji” can refer to a brother-in-law, sister-in-law, or any close friend of a spouse.
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