Christmas at work: Inside the lives of women on duty
Wilbroda Esaala, Caroline Okere, Marylyn Mutenyo, Caroline Achieng' Otieno and Fairbain Ombeva, all of whom will be on duty on December 25, 2025.
What you need to know:
- As families across Kenya celebrate Christmas, thousands of women report to work in prisons, hospitals, security posts, care homes, and call centres—carrying the responsibility that keeps society functioning.
- From prison commanders and nurses to caregivers, phone operators, and security guards, these women balance professional duty with personal sacrifice, often while still expected to uphold family roles at home.
At 6am on Christmas morning, while most of the country will be stirring to the smell of chapati and children's laughter, Fairbain Ombeva will already be at her desk, phone charged, uniform pressed, scanning the first reports of the day.
Nearly 750 women inmates and their babies will spend the holiday behind the walls of Lang'ata Women Maximum Security Prison. Almost 1,000 officers and staff will be on duty. And if anything goes wrong, she must respond immediately.
Langata Women's Maximum Security Prison officer-in-charge Fairbain Ombeva during the interview at her office in Nairobi on December 18, 2025.
Across the country, thousands of women will trade festive dresses for uniforms on December 25. They will report to hospitals and care homes, hotels and markets, security posts and newsrooms, carrying the quiet weight of responsibility that keeps society running.
Many shoulder a double burden: beyond their paid work, they remain primary caregivers at home, expected to prepare meals, nurture families, and uphold traditions—even while on shift, even when their own celebrations must wait.
We spoke to five women who will work this Christmas, and how they navigate the demands of duty and devotion.
The Prison commander
For Fairbain, Officer in Charge of Lang'ata Women Maximum Security Prison, the festive season has never meant time off.
"In the Prison service, December comes with what we call standby instructions," she explains. "No leave, no passes, full availability unless there is sickness or death. Crime rates rise, tensions increase, and prisons must remain on high alert. During Christmas, we are on duty. That is simply the nature of disciplined service."
Nearly a year into her leadership at Lang'ata, Fairbain has settled into the rhythm of constant vigilance. Her phone stays on, even on Christmas night. If an emergency whistle blows, she will run without hesitation.
Her day begins before dawn. By 6am, reports are already streaming in: staff deployment, court movements, meals served, hospital referrals, security checks. She receives briefings from duty officers, her deputy, and the Senior Sergeant Discipline, who monitors incidents across the prison. Christmas does not slow these routines—it intensifies them.
But even behind high walls, the season finds a way in. Through prison reforms and an open-door policy, churches, organisations, and individuals donate food during the festive period. Officers contribute to a welfare fund, pooling resources to buy food in bulk and share it among inmates and staff. The women receive special meals, attend Christmas services, sing, dance, and celebrate.
"It is important to me that they feel human and loved," Fairbain says. "That belief shapes how I lead."
Beyond its role as a correctional facility, Lang'ata doubles as a school, a hospital, a workplace, and a nursery. Most inmates are serving long sentences, making rehabilitation essential. They attend vocational training, paralegal programmes, and arts activities. A few short-term prisoners work outside the walls, sweeping roads or tending the prison farm, where they learn modern agricultural methods.
Fairbain's responsibility extends well beyond inmates. She oversees 650 junior officers, 78 senior officers, civilian staff, interns, and officers on attachment. She inspects staff housing, checks water and electricity supplies, and ensures sanitation systems function properly.
That constant readiness defines her life, both professionally and personally. Her children grew up knowing that Christmas, birthdays, and weekends might be interrupted by a phone call. Her husband understands too.
"You learn to balance, but this work never truly switches off," she says. "What I want the public to understand is that prisoners are people too. We care for them. Our work is to correct, not to punish. And even on Christmas, we are proud to share what we have with them."
The nurse who reaches the unreached
While many gather around family tables this Christmas, Marylyn Mutenyo will be elsewhere—reaching the unreached with compassion, medication, reassurance, and a listening ear.
She is a nurse practitioner, community development worker, caregiver, and CEO of Rays of Care Kenya Alliance, an NGO that organises free medical camps and addresses community health issues. "Care does not pause because it is a public holiday," she says. "Illness has no calendar."
Marylyn Mutenyo, a nurse and CEO of Rays of Care Kenya, an organisation that runs free medical camps, among other programmes. She is one of the women today.
This year, her organisation will celebrate Christmas at a children's home in Nairobi, one of those they support. They will hold a medical camp, conduct health assessments, and share whatever resources they have under the theme "Reaching the unreached—Christmas with a difference, hope in action."
Marylyn knew from the moment she chose nursing that there would be days she would miss family gatherings, holidays, and rest. But the reality still pulls at her.
"I am human, and sometimes I feel torn between my family and my work, between home and duty," she admits. "But I remain committed because in one moment I witness healing, and in the next I hold pain. Both are sacred."
Some Christmases stay with you forever. She recalls working in the maternity unit at Nairobi Hospital one Christmas Day when a woman who had endured five miscarriages delivered her miracle baby. The joy in that room—tears mixed with laughter—reminded her why the work matters.
As a woman, the expectations never disappear. When she walks through her gate at home, work is supposed to stop, but care continues. She is still a mother, a wife, a daughter, and Christmas pressure only amplifies this. Balancing professional caregiving with family life is exhausting.
Her family has learned to adapt. Her husband steps in, taking the children out when she is on duty. Her mother and friends help with meals and childcare. After difficult shifts, the family prays together—that emotional and spiritual support keeps her standing.
She has also found ways to preserve family bonds during the festive season. She plans ahead, putting up the Christmas tree early, purchasing gifts in advance, preparing meals beforehand. She calls home during breaks and, when possible, involves her children in her work so they understand that compassion is part of who they are.
"Very few people truly recognise the sacrifices women make during Christmas," Marylyn observes. "Nurses, especially women, are often assigned holiday shifts because we are seen as flexible. We carry joy for others while quietly holding our own loneliness. A simple thank you means more than people realise."
To young nurses, her advice is clear: plan, accept the nature of your calling, lean on teamwork, rest when you must, and be kind to yourself.
The caregiver who lost her own
For Caroline Okere, a home-based palliative caregiver for cancer patients, Christmas Day is just a normal day—only less busy than most.
"Cancer does not take a holiday, and neither does caregiving," she says. "While many families wake up to celebrations, food, and laughter, I wake up ready to check on patients who are in pain, afraid, or simply need someone to be there."
Caroline Okere, a caregiver and cancer advocate, after the interview at Nation Centre, Nairobi on October 14, 2024.
Before she became a community cancer caregiver, Christmas meant something different—family traditions, cooking together, spending the day surrounded by loved ones. Now it has taken on a deeper meaning.
"There are people who are hurting, people who feel forgotten," she says. "I try my best to put a smile on their faces so they don't feel left out during a season that can be very lonely for the sick."
Everything changed after the main person she was caring for—her mother—passed on. Since she rested, Christmas has never been the same. Grief quietly follows Caroline through the season, even as she continues caring for others.
As a woman, she feels the unspoken expectations. People look at her and assume she will step in, that she will handle things, that she will carry the emotional and physical load.
Caring for cancer patients on Christmas Day brings a storm of emotions. Most of the time, she feels happiness when a patient is comfortable or smiling. But there is also fear—cancer can change quickly—and sometimes sadness when a patient's condition worsens or when she is reminded of her own loss.
She balances caregiving with family life through careful planning. She makes sure to see her family before Christmas Day, planning a good day together and giving small gifts so they can enjoy the holiday even when she is not fully present. She stays reachable by phone, in case anyone—family or patient—needs her.
She finds joy in small moments: when a patient smiles; says thank you; or simply looks more at peace. That appreciation reminds her why she does this work.
"To those celebrating Christmas at home, I want you to know that we caregivers do this with passion and dedication," she says. "We want our patients to be comfortable and at peace, no matter their situation. But we are human too. When we ask for help, for rest, or for support, we are not being difficult. And when we ask for items like food, diapers, sanitary towels, or medical assistance, any help given goes a long way in giving hope to someone who needs it most."
The voice on the line
Wilbroda Esaala works as a phone operator, taking both day and night shifts. When her duty falls on Christmas night, she accepts it. This year, she will be on the night shift—but she is thankful she can still spend the day with her family before heading to work.
Wilbroda Esaala, a telephone operator at Nation Media Group, on duty at Nation Centre, Nairobi, on December 19, 2025.
"Over time, I have learned to embrace working during holidays," she says. "It does affect family life, of course, but planning ahead helps. I make arrangements early, and unless there is an emergency, everything runs smoothly. When unexpected situations arise, my siblings step in to help, and that support makes a big difference."
As a woman, she feels the added pressure Christmas brings, especially from children. Her children want her around, and when she has to work during such an important time, it weighs on her. There are moments when she feels torn between being present at home and being responsible at work. "But I remind myself that my role matters," she says.
If she had another option, she would still choose to work the night shift. It allows her to be with her family during the day—sharing meals, laughing, creating memories—before she heads out. That balance makes it easier to cope.
At her workplace, men and women are treated equally when it comes to scheduling. Holiday and night shifts are shared fairly. Safety is taken seriously, especially for women working at night. Guards are stationed at the exit, and 24-hour CCTV surveillance is in place. Knowing these measures exist gives her peace of mind.
Emotionally, working while others celebrate does not disturb her much. She has accepted that holidays are sometimes part of her working schedule. That acceptance has helped her remain calm, even when the world outside feels festive.
Some calls, however, stay with you long after the shift ends. "I remember one Christmas night when a man called to report an accident along the Kisumu-Busia Road," she recalls. "A white car had rolled into a ditch, and he could hear children crying inside. I took his details and immediately contacted the police through 999. Less than 20 minutes later, he called back to thank me because the police were already at the scene."
That call reminded her why her job matters—even on Christmas night. "While others sleep or celebrate, I sit on the line, ready to respond," she says. "Because that, too, is part of the season."
The guard who chose her post
Christine Achieng' Otieno is a security officer. Her job is to protect people, property, and information from harm, theft, or danger.
For her, Christmas Day looks exactly the same as any other working day. She reports on duty, checks her post, stays alert, and makes sure everyone and everything under her watch is safe. The tasks she performs daily are the same ones she performs on Christmas. There is no special adjustment. "Security does not take a holiday," she says.
G4S employee Christine Achieng' Otieno during the interview in Nairobi on December 18, 2025.
This is not her first Christmas at work. Over the years, she has worked many festive seasons and has grown used to it. In fact, she finds it enjoyable. Her company appreciates staff during the festive period—they receive small tokens of appreciation and are paid double for working on Christmas Day. That makes the day even more rewarding.
"People often assume that working on Christmas is a sacrifice, especially for women, but for me, it is not," she says. "This is my line of duty. I chose this profession, and I take pride in it. I actually enjoy working on Christmas more than on regular days because I get to meet different people and experience a lively environment."
The biggest challenge during the festive season is the crowd. Christmas brings many people moving around—shopping, travelling, celebrating. This means extra vigilance. There is more activity, more excitement, and sometimes more risk. Security officers must stay alert and active to ensure customers' property and lives are protected.
As a woman in security, Christine does not feel disadvantaged. She does her work just like her male colleagues. The support from her employer during this period is strong. Security is enhanced with additional resources such as dog handlers and alarm response vehicles. Knowing that backup is always available gives her confidence.
Her family is used to her Christmas schedule. They understand that "mum" might not be around on the day itself. They celebrate without her, and later they plan their own family day—which becomes their Christmas. That way, no one feels left out, and they still create memories together.
After her day shift ends, she goes home, cooks, refreshes, laughs, and enjoys time with her family just like everyone else.
