It wasn’t what they studied for. It wasn’t what they pictured. But it was a job, and it was available.
They walked off graduation stages with crisp university certificates and big dreams, only to find a saturated job market that had little space for them. So, instead of folding their arms and sitting pretty, they turned to the familiar – they took up small roles in companies run by their families. Some are now unpacking boxes in shops owned by their parents, while others are managing orders or performing administrative tasks in offices they grew up around.
With unemployment and underemployment still biting, many Kenyan graduates are sliding into roles at their family businesses — sometimes temporarily, sometimes long-term. For some, it is a daily tug-of-war between gratitude, ambition, and the uneasy feeling that life isn’t quite going as planned.
Now a manager in my parent’s business
Gladys Njamiu, 25, never imagined she would one day trade in her pen for power tools. Fresh out of university, she had set her sights on a creative career – writing fiction, telling stories, and maybe even publishing a novel one day. But reality, as she soon learned, doesn’t always align with dreams. She now works in her parents’ carpentry and furniture-making workshop.
Gladys Njamiu, 25, a graduate in English, Literature, and Psychology, now manages her parents' carpentry business after her career aspirations in writing and what she pursued in university didn't materialize as expected.
Photo credit: Pool
“It was never my first option,” she says, sitting in the back office of her parents’ workshop in Nairobi. “The writing thing wasn’t giving, and I didn’t want to keep doing academic writing,” she tells Nation Lifestyle.
After six months of job-hunting, submitting CVs, pitching ideas, and trying to scrape together freelance gigs, Gladys found herself right back where she started: At home.
“It was painful, emotionally. My ego was bruised. I kept asking myself, how bad or how terrible of a writer am I that no one is taking a chance on me?”
Out of options and running low on motivation, she joined the family business in mid-2024. But it wasn’t an easy transition.
“There was a time I quit the job,” she admits. “I didn’t want to be that person who finishes school and goes back to work for their family. I felt like a big failure.” In February 2025, something shifted. “I’ve stopped thinking of myself as a failure. I’m adjusting.”
Today, Gladys spends her days supervising workers in the carpentry and furniture-making workshop.
Her parents have been both strict and supportive, she says. “When I moved back home in January 2024, I told my mum, ‘Let me try and figure my things out first before I come work for you.’ But when things didn’t work out and I finally joined, I was like, this is it.”
Now in a managerial position, while her mother travels, Gladys is often forced to prove her worth, especially to older employees who view her as just the boss’s daughter.
“There was some form of disrespect,” she says. “It felt like I had to prove I wasn’t just here because of family.”
Even among peers, the stigma lingers. “There’s this stereotype that if you work for your parents, things must be easy for you. But they don’t understand, just because customers give me the money doesn’t mean it's mine. It’s not even my mum’s money. It’s business money.”
She earns a small salary and admits she’s only managing because she still lives at home. “Some of my colleagues are raising children with this money,” she adds, shaking her head. “I’m just saving mine for when I move out.”
The highs? Laughing over tea breaks with her mum and sister. The lows? Washing dishes that aren’t hers, doing extended chores that blur the line between employee and daughter. “If this were any other job,” says the Bachelor of Arts in English, Literature, and Psychology graduate, “I wouldn’t be expected to wash cups and plates.”
Asked if she sees herself taking over the business someday, she doesn’t hesitate. “No. I feel my brothers would. It’s not a patriarchal thing. They’re just better suited for it. If I were to stay, I’d change it completely, turn it into woodwork, creating pieces, not just supplying materials.”
Still, she’s open to the idea that this might be more than a temporary patch. “Maybe it’s a semi-permanent fix—until I find something else,” she says. “But the moment I find a job that aligns with what I want, I’m out.”
Dorcas Nyaboke, 28, studied Business Administration. She had tried her hand at a supplement company in Nairobi, but it didn’t work out. Then came the move back to Kisii with her partner, an attempt at a fresh start. When a relationship with her partner ended, Dorcas found herself back at her parents’ home, jobless and uncertain about what would come next.
Dorcas Nyaboke, 28, a Business Administration graduate, found herself managing her parents' property and agricultural businesses in Kisii after struggling to find fulfilling work in Nairobi.
Photo credit: Pool
“I can say, whatever led me to start working for my parents is I failed in other areas,” Dorcas says.
At one point, she had worked in her then-boyfriend’s family’s auto spares business, but that, too, felt transient. Eventually, she accepted a role managing her parents’ apartments and farms while trying to piece her life back together.
“It was kind of disappointing to come back home feeling like a failure,” she says, describing how her younger brother had already become independent and even helped pay for her return to school. “Looking back, he’s my younger brother. I’m older than him. That was frustrating.”
Overseeing her parents’ apartments and agricultural ventures is not so far from what she studied in university—business administration.
“I feel okay doing it. Most people can look and be judgmental, but I’ve been here for two years. It’s part of my work.”
She talks about how her mother mentored her during the first year, introducing her to painters, plumbers, and tenants, and helping her understand the day-to-day management tasks.
Her father, she says, was initially strict, demanding better reporting and accountability, but with time, their relationship has evolved into one of mutual respect.
“There was a time I felt like he thought I was stealing from him,” she says jokingly. “But now we talk like adults. He listens to me.”
Though she is paid and appreciates the stability, Dorcas says the experience comes with its challenges.
“When someone comes looking for the landlord, and I say I’m the one, they think I’m joking because I'm so young,” she says. “Sometimes a house stays vacant because people don’t believe when I say I’m the landlady.”
Beyond perception issues, she has had to deal with tenants who delay or default on rent payments, and the slow legal process makes evictions difficult. Still, she finds comfort in the fact that she never truly lacks. “Home is home. No matter what happens, your parents remain your parents.”
With her expenses largely covered, Dorcas can save her salary and has plans to open a cosmetics shop.
“This money will enable me to establish myself,” she says.
And yet, there's a bittersweet undertone. Seeing her peers secure high-paying jobs and buying property stings. “I look at myself, and I’m still stuck at home, not even sure if I’ll ever move out.”
However, she recognises that staying at home can be too comfortable, too easy. “I don’t want to move and start buying food, paying rent… because everything here is provided,” she admits.
Still, she’s open to growth. “If I get a better opportunity, I’ll take it. Managing an apartment is not a full-time job, it’ is something I can always come back to. It’s family. It will always be there.”
I oversee over 100 employees
At just 27, Melvin Ngigi is the CEO of Naivasha General Masters, a thriving family-run business in Nakuru that offers construction, home décor, and design services.
“When I was in school, I was blessed,” he says, seated in his well-organised office filled with material samples and project plans. “My parents had already laid the foundation in business for me and my sibling. They started nurturing us at a young age. I started tagging along with them to work when I was about 13.”
By 2017, Melvin had officially stepped into the family business, taking on a full-time role that mirrored the work his parents had done, but with new energy and ambition.
“Before that, I was still in school,” he explains. “But we had already made up our minds that we wouldn’t look for jobs once we left university. I always wanted to be self-employed.”
Melvin studied entrepreneurship at Pan Africa Christian University, and unlike many graduates who find themselves in entirely unrelated fields, he is one of the few living out exactly what he studied. “What I learned in school is what I practice now, so for me, it was more of a continuation than a shift.”
Running the family business hasn’t always been easy. “People think working for your parents is a walk in the park, but they’re strict about how things are done,” he laughs. “That discipline has shaped me. They empowered me early, so now I can run things without relying on them.”
Melvin oversees over 100 employees, a responsibility he doesn't take lightly. “My agemates admire what I do.”
And yes, he’s on a salary. “I won’t say the figure,” he grins, “But being paid by my folks has motivated me to work harder. There’s a difference between being given money and earning it.”
Still, business is business, and his job is vulnerable to the same market forces as any other. “There are times when the economy hits us hard, when sales dip, but we’re managing. We’ve had tough seasons, but God has been faithful.”
Melvin is committed to the family enterprise for the long haul. “This isn’t temporary. I don’t see myself doing something else. This is what I love, and it has allowed me to live the life I want.”
To young people struggling in a flooded job market, his message is straightforward: “If your parents have something they do, join them. You’ll be surprised what can grow from it. Many youth finish school, can’t find work, fall into depression and alcoholism... but a family business can give you direction, purpose, and joy.”
For Silviah Mwanika, a 24-year-old public relations officer, the path to securing a stable job after graduation was anything but smooth. Like many young graduates in Kenya, Silviah had high hopes when she completed her studies, expecting the job market to be full of opportunities. Instead, her reality was filled with frustration and rejection.
Silviah Mwanika, a 24-year-old public relations graduate, navigates the tough job market in Kenya, balancing her career aspirations with a role in her family’s business as she continues to seek better opportunities.
Photo credit: Pool
“I finished university, and after that, I immediately began looking for work. I sent out e-mails, visited companies, and even asked about internships, hoping to gain some experience and make connections,” Silviah recalls. However, despite her persistent efforts, her attempts were met with repeated setbacks. “The rejections came in fast. Some companies told me they had already hired new people, others promised to call back but never did. For a while, it felt like I was just going in circles,” she adds.
For about two months, Silviah was uncertain of where her career was heading. “I felt like I was just wasting time. It was demoralising. Every day I’d check my emails hoping for a job offer or an invitation for an interview, but all I got were rejection emails,” she shares, her voice tinged with the frustration that many graduates can relate to.
With no immediate prospects in sight, Silviah decided to join her family’s business, something she never envisioned for herself. “I didn’t think it was a bad thing, but at the same time, it felt like settling. It wasn’t the dream job I had imagined, but the reality was, I needed something. I couldn’t afford to be unemployed for much longer,” she says.
However, Silviah remains optimistic about her role. "I’m not doing exactly what I studied for, but the work I’m doing is still related to communication. I’m learning and adapting. It’s not the worst thing, but I wouldn’t want to stay here for long,” she admits.
Yet, joining a family-run organisation came with its own set of challenges. Silviah explains how some of her colleagues, and even outsiders, were quick to judge her decision. “Some said I was only here because of family connections, or that I was getting special treatment,” she says. “You just have to prove yourself. I’ve learned to ignore the noise and focus on what I’m doing,” she says.
The stigma of working in a smaller, family-run business can sometimes be difficult to handle, especially when peers in larger organisations question the legitimacy of your role. Silviah adds, "It’s not always easy. There are days when I feel like I’m not being taken seriously, especially when people think working in a small business means you’re not successful enough to get a job elsewhere. But I don’t let that define me. I know my worth, and I know I’m learning valuable skills here."
Silviah is determined to keep pushing forward. “I’ve met some amazing international professionals through this job, and that exposure is something I wouldn’t have gotten in a bigger company. I’m building my network and learning how international organisations operate, which will be beneficial for my career in the long run," she says with determination.
“It’s a good starting point. It’s giving me the experience I need and teaching me things. I’m constantly looking for opportunities to grow,” she says.
When it comes to managing her salary, Silviah is practical and focused on her future. “I use most of my salary for personal expenses like food and transport. I’m also saving up to pursue a Master’s degree. There’s a lot more I want to achieve,” she says.
For young people like Silviah who are still unsure about whether to take a job that may not be their first choice, her advice is simple: “Don’t be afraid to take a chance. Even if it’s not your dream job, you can still learn a lot and build your career from there. Just keep growing, keep pushing yourself, and never get too comfortable.”
