In many homes across Kenya, the house help rulebook is not something you’ll find typed up and pinned to the fridge. It is unwritten, shifting, often unspoken — yet enforced with the weight of gospel.
Unlike other professions where labour laws, contracts and industry standards shape expectations, domestic work in Kenya remains largely unregulated, quietly improvised, and deeply personal.
In this peculiar vacuum, every home becomes a republic, with its own constitution. The employer, often a parent juggling career, commutes and caregiving, becomes both legislator and enforcer. One house may demand uniforms; another forbids sitting on the living room couch. In some, a child’s laundry is off-limits to certain hands; in others, meals are prepared but not tasted. Who is served, who is spoken to, when and how — all this is etched into an invisible tablet, learned not in orientation but through trial, whispers, and occasionally, painful correction.
Wambui Muiruri at her workplace in Nairobi on July 15, 2025.
Photo credit: Wilfred Nyangaresi | Nation Media Group
Wambui Muiruri has lived with her current house help for three and a half years. Their social contract has been guided mostly by a mutual understanding and, in some cases, spoken rules. Her home runs on structure, and she believes rules are necessary not because she is controlling, but because clarity creates peace. “You can’t run any business without rules, now can you?” she asks. “A house help’s job is also work. Most of the time, you learn that some may not know how to manage their time, which leads to everything else in the house not working.”
Wambui does not issue rules on a whim. She begins by asking herself, Would I be happy if I were treated this way? Is this rule really necessary? “If the answer is yes,” she explains, “I then take time to explain why the rule matters. I also teach her what happens when we don’t follow that particular rule. One thing I keep saying, stop assuming everyone has the same understanding level as you. Just explain. It makes things easier for both of you.”
One of the key rules in her house is around stock management: everything that runs low must be reported before it’s finished. She also has clear boundaries on time. “The kids come first. Everything else can follow,” she says. “I don’t restrict her from using her phone. But I don’t expect her to wake up late and sit on the phone for an hour when nothing is getting done. My kids are in school from 7:00 am to 3:00 pm. That’s enough time to do duties and rest.”
Despite this structure, Wambui avoids micromanagement. “Just dress decently,” she shrugs, when asked about a dress code. “A grown-up doesn’t need lectures about that.”
As for spaces like the master bedroom, her domestic help only enters when she’s cleaning or dropping off laundry. “She gives us space naturally,” Wambui says. “When I’m in the living room with the kids, she retreats to the bedroom. Her phone is on Wi-Fi, so she’s well occupied.”
Over time, Wambui’s family has built trust and respect for their house help. “My lastborn thinks she’s part of the family. She came when the baby was less than a year old,” Wambui says. “And yes, children learn by observing. That’s why I try to correct her respectfully. It models for my kids how to treat others.”
Unlike other professions where labour laws, contracts and industry standards shape expectations, domestic work in Kenya remains largely unregulated.
Photo credit: Shutterstock
Her journey hasn’t always been smooth. “I’ve had uncountable helps over the years,” she admits. “Some were unruly. But I also had my flaws. I’ve grown. I’ve changed. I don’t handle things the way I used to.” She remembers one who stayed for over a year—arriving when she was pregnant and leaving when the baby was ten months old. “When she wanted to leave, she told me and even helped me find another one. We still talk. When rules are properly structured in understanding and respect, they don’t create enmity or strife. Contrary, they bring order and prevent or reduce chaos.”
For her, dignity and discipline can coexist. “Treat them like human beings,” she says. “Make rules, but don’t make life a living hell for them. Gift them sometimes. Teach them hygiene and grooming. Correct them like a fellow grown-up. Many employer-employee relationships in domestic work make for a toxic working environment. By the time the contract—verbal or written—comes to an end, the parties cannot even see eye-to-eye.”
She believes in teaching, not assuming. “I taught my house help how I like my tea brewed and my onions fried. Stop assuming that they should know. No one was born knowing.”
Organic Cravings limited Founder Sharon Maina Wambua during the interview in Nairobi on July 16, 2025.
Photo credit: Lucy Wanjiru | Nation Media Group
By the time Sharon Wambua hired her most recent house help, she had already been through several. Some left abruptly, others didn’t meet expectations, and the rest fizzled out due to what she calls mismatched energy.
After a recent episode where her house help said the workload was too much, Sharon brought in a second housekeeper—not just to divide tasks, but to protect her peace of mind. “I’ve learned that you can’t wait for chaos to set in before you act. Now, I keep a backup.”
For Sharon, the only way to maintain stability at home is through clear rules. “I don’t entertain lies. It might sound strict, but it’s intentional,” says the health and beauty products entrepreneur. “If someone says they’re sick, I don’t expect to see them at a party. I’m big on honesty.” That rule wasn’t born from paranoia—it came from personal experience. “I once had a house help claim she was unwell, only to show up at a party the same day. That level of disrespect is what taught me to draw the line.”
Despite her boundaries, Sharon avoids being authoritarian. “Structure means expectations are clear. It’s about respect and flow. Control, on the other hand, feels like micromanaging, and I avoid that.” She offers space for her house helps to work independently, but within a framework that includes consequences if that trust is abused.
“They can use their phones, yes—but not during active working hours unless it’s urgent. I’ve had moments where my baby is crying and the nanny is deep in TikTok. That can’t happen.”
Sharon is direct about what matters to her. “I don’t allow random visitors at my house. This is my safe space,” she says. “And yes, I’ve addressed dress code, when it was necessary.”
Boundaries like these may sound uncomfortable to spell out, but she says it's better to be clear than to leave room for misunderstanding.
“I’m conscious of how I speak or act around the help in front of my kids. I want them to see that people should be treated with respect. If you constantly shout at your help or belittle them, your kids will think that’s how to treat people. I don’t want to raise entitled kids. I want to raise empathetic humans.”
Like many parents, Sharon has wrestled with self-doubt about being too strict or too lenient. “There have been times I’ve questioned myself,” she says. “But every time I’ve relaxed the rules too much, I’ve paid the price. So now, I aim for balance, firm but fair.”
She doesn’t sugar-coat the reality of domestic help. “House helps can destabilise your entire life with one unexpected exit,” she says. “That’s why I have two now. I don’t want to be caught off guard again.”
Her advice to other parents? Be clear, not desperate.
“Don’t overextend yourself trying to keep someone. Set boundaries from day one. Don’t ignore red flags. And always have a backup plan.”
For the past five years, Moses Bett has shared his home with a rotating cast of house-helps. The experience, though necessary, hasn’t always been smooth.
“We’ve had to change house-helps from time to time due to various circumstances,” he says. But through trial, error, and observation, Moses’ household has developed a simple but effective operating system: respect, structure, and firm ground rules.
Moses believes rules are essential, not just for order, but for protecting his family’s values and well-being. These include waking up at a specific time, following the established feeding timetable, never leaving a child alone in the house, and avoiding access to private areas in the house. “We want to avoid inappropriate behaviour or situations that create discomfort or risk.”
Rather than creating a tense atmosphere, he believes clear expectations build mutual understanding. “If the rules are fair and unbiased,” he says, “then it’s structure, not control.”
In Moses’ household, rules apply to everyone. “You can’t ask for discipline from others if you’re not modelling it.”
One of the clearest boundaries Moses enforces is the no-visitors’ policy. “We don’t allow visitors unless they’ve gotten express permission from us,” he says. “It’s both a safety and privacy issue. We want our home to remain a secure, familiar environment, especially for our children.”
Moses has a message he believes more parents need to hear. “Avoid using demeaning terms like ‘mboch, ’” he says. “Use titles like ‘house manager’ or even just ‘aunty.’ Language matters.”
He’s also a strong advocate for rest days and balance. “Just like you take time off work, they need rest too. They’re not machines or slaves. They have lives, emotions, and dreams. Treat them like people. Because that’s who they are.”
