When Christmas comes without celebration: The hidden lives of mama fua
A mama fua cleans laundry.
What you need to know:
- As Kenyans travel to the countrysides for festive reunions, many domestic workers remain in the city, working longer hours for the same pay while separated from their children and families during Christmas.
- The experiences of house helps, nannies, and mama fuas in Nairobi reveal systemic labour violations—from unpaid overtime and lack of bonuses to wages below the legal minimum—despite clear protections in Kenyan law.
The water runs into the cooking pot as Catherine Muhonja stands at the kitchen sink in a Nairobi home that is not hers. Her hands move through the familiar morning routine, but her mind wanders to Vihiga, where her three children are waking up to another December morning without their mother.
For millions of Kenyans, the festive season brings reunions, laughter, and the warmth of family gatherings. But for many domestic workers—the house helps, the nannies, the mama fuas who keep middle-class households running—Christmas often means longer working hours, unchanged salaries, and the quiet ache of separation from their own families.
Catherine, a single mother, has not spent Christmas with her children in three years.
"Staying away from my family during this Christmas does not make me happy. I feel like I should be with my children and know how they are doing," she says. "Even if there is no food, they will understand. But when I am away like now, they think that mum is eating well in Nairobi. Even Christmas dresses, they did not get."
Her journey to the capital began with an escape. Having dropped out of school in Form One due to lack of fees and married at 23, Catherine found herself in an abusive relationship. When her husband, who worked in Eldoret, abandoned her during pregnancy after a series of violent confrontations, she sought refuge at her parents' home.
"We disagreed with my husband after a couple of fights. He left me when I was expectant, so I continued staying at his parents' home. But as he kept threatening me while away, I decided to go back to my parents' home where I delivered," she recalls. "When the baby grew, I talked with my mother, who agreed to take care of my three children while I came to the city to search for a job."
A relative received her when she arrived in Nairobi. Catherine had calculated carefully: a salary of Sh16,000 would allow her to spend Sh6,000 monthly on transport to visit her children in Western Kenya, leaving Sh10,000 for school fees and upkeep.
None of that has materialised. Her first job paid Sh8,000.
"That is what I used to pay school fees. We agreed with the principal that I pay the fees in monthly instalments instead of termly, then the other portion I would send to my mother who is taking care of my children back in Vihiga."
When her first employer relocated abroad at the end of last year, Catherine had to start over. The job search consumed what little savings she had, making it impossible to set aside money for the festive season.
Her eight-year-old daughter calls with questions that cut deep.
"She keeps telling me that other children in the village travelled to Nairobi to visit their parents. She tells me that I should have invited her as well to spend the Christmas holiday with me in Nairobi, then go back when schools reopen," Catherine says. "But this cannot happen because I do not have my own house here in the city."
Her daily routine is gruelling. On school days, her alarm sounds at 5am. She prepares her employer's children for school, completes house chores until evening, helps with homework, bathes the children, serves dinner, and reads bedtime stories until 9pm. Only then does she rest for eight hours before the cycle begins again.
During school holidays like this Christmas season, she has adjusted her wake-up time to 6am. But the extra hour in bed is deceptive.
"There is a lot of work when schools are closed because children are around. They need lunch, they are playing, and their clothes get dirty. It forces me to wash because that is my job. The house is dirty most of the time, which means I have to keep cleaning it several times a day," she explains. "Even by the fact that I am working during Christmas, my salary remains the same and there is no bonus."
In Kawangware, Janet Atieno embodies the hustle that defines survival in Nairobi's low-income neighbourhoods. She juggles two jobs: community health promoter and mama fua—the colloquial term for women who wash clothes for hire.
Her salary as a community health promoter falls below Sh7,000 monthly, an amount she says cannot sustain life in the city.
"My children are now with my mother in the village during this long school holiday so that they experience both rural and town lifestyles," says the mother of three. "I had hoped that I would get a lot of laundry jobs to earn money and do Christmas shopping for them and the entire family so that we can celebrate by eating chapati in the village."
Janet knows domestic work intimately. Her three children lived with her parents in the village when she first arrived in Nairobi in 2013 to work as a house help.
"When you are living in somebody's house, you become the last person to go to bed—it can even be at midnight—and you will be the first person to wake up," she recalls. "You can also be cooking and serving people food, but you are not eating that same food."
Her life changed when she secured the community health promoter position in Riruta, where she now oversees 100 households. The job allowed her to transition from a live-in house help to daytime laundry work, which is how she acquired the mama fua title.
Independence came with its own challenges. She rented a small house and brought her children to live with her. But when money runs short, the consequences are immediate.
"Sometimes the landlord locks my house, and I spend even two nights out of that house with my children," Janet admits. "Then later I talk with the landlord to open for me as I look for money when I do the laundry job. It is God who intervenes because life in Nairobi requires money to do everything."
Despite holding two jobs, Janet cannot afford to give her children a memorable Christmas. With schools reopening soon and her children currently in the village, she must prioritise their transport back to Nairobi over any festive celebrations.
Sh4,000 monthly earning
"Even when my children used to live with my parents, there were countless times that it was Christmas, but I could not afford to travel home or even send Christmas shopping for them in the village," she says. "Even now, getting people who want their clothes washed and pay well is impossible. The highest amount I earn from laundry in an entire month is about Sh4,000."
As a community health promoter, she monitors blood pressure and sugar levels using equipment provided for her work and refers unwell individuals within her assigned households to hospital. The pay may be meagre, but the impact she makes on community health brings her satisfaction.
Across the city on Jacaranda estate, Rosemary Andia is doing something many domestic workers only dream of: packing for a journey home.
The last time she saw her three children was in January, after the New Year celebrations. As she prepares for the trip to Western Kenya, excitement colours her voice.
"You know, being a house help is not considered a decent job, but that is what I am doing here in Nairobi," Rosemary tells Nation.Africa with a soft laugh. "My children live with my sister. I must go and see them because I take too long before seeing them. I have never celebrated any Christmas here in Nairobi."
Employer's generosity
She has worked for her current employer for two years and hopes the relationship will continue for a third. What makes her annual journey possible is her employer's generosity in booking her bus ticket to travel to the countrysides and back.
"If I don't travel during holidays like now, then it becomes hard to go home in the course of the year because those are busy months in Nairobi, and my boss cannot allow me to be away because I have to prepare children for school," she explains.
Rosemary lives in her employer's house. Her days begin between 4am and 5am and end between 10pm and 11pm. Of all her duties, washing clothes for a family of five remains the most demanding.
"Washing is the most difficult part of my work. This is a family of five, so I wash every day," she says. "I am planning to go home for a week, and I know that when I come back, there will be a lot of dirty clothes waiting for me to wash. The house will also be dirty because I will be away."
She pauses, then adds: "When I came back to Nairobi in January this year, there were many dirty clothes that had piled up, but I was not given a bonus. It is just the salary."
As a young girl, Rosemary dreamed of wearing the uniform of a police officer.
"That dream died, and I have no hopes of it ever coming through because I am now past the entry age into the service. I am in my thirties," she says.
The death of both her parents while she was still a student derailed her future. Though relatives took her in and she continued schooling, the fees became impossible to sustain. She dropped out in Form Three.
"Both my parents died while I was still a student, so I did not have someone to sponsor my studies. I stayed with my auntie, who also died later. I then went back home," Rosemary recounts. "I know that had my parents lived even ten more years, I would have completed my Form Four and got that certificate, which was a requirement for police recruitment. Or maybe I would have proceeded to university to pursue a career."
Though her own dreams were cut short, she is determined to give her children a different story. Her two children will be joining Grade Seven and Grade Four in January, and she has used her savings to buy them books and school uniforms.
"My boss paid for my bus ticket while I bought books and school uniforms for my children," she says. "I know that they need new Christmas clothes, but they will wear what they have because I am not having enough money."
Going home just once a year for one week may not seem like much, but to Rosemary, it means everything.
Lawyer John Owegi says the law is clear on the rights of domestic workers, even if the reality on the ground tells a different story.
"Domestic workers are protected by labour laws that are regulated by the Employment Act of 2007, international laws and standards, plus the 2010 Constitution of Kenya, which requires that employees have paid leaves and get compensated when they work during holidays or overtime," he explains.
Christmas Day, Boxing Day, and New Year's Day are all gazetted holidays in Kenya. According to Owegi, employers who require their domestic workers to work on these days are obligated to pay overtime or grant alternative days off.
"But if you are working on a holiday, you expect to get compensation, which is usually more than what you earn when working on your normal working day," he says.
The violations extend beyond public holidays. He points to days like December 27, which falls during the peak festive period when relatives and visitors fill homes.
"The domestic worker would probably be woken up at 5am and would be expected to work up to 10pm, and they are not paid extra working hours, which of course is in violation of employment law," he observes.
According to the Regulation of Wages Order 2024, domestic workers employed in Nairobi and other major urban centres like Kisumu, Mombasa, Eldoret, and Nakuru should receive a minimum wage of Sh16,114, exclusive of housing allowance. The minimum daily rate stands at Sh775.39.
Owegi notes that most employers of domestic workers violate these minimum wage requirements. However, in instances where domestic workers have taken their employers to court over such violations, they have won their cases.
"First, you will be expected to top up to the minimum wage if you were paying less, for all the months that the domestic worker worked for you," he explains. "In accordance with Kenyan employment law, if you have worked for 12 months, you are entitled to 21 days' paid leave annually."
Beyond wage theft, Owegi raises concerns about the safety of live-in domestic workers who cannot travel to be with their own families during the holidays.
"This is the period where we have more alcohol consumption within a period of two weeks than any other period during the year, because you have relatives coming in and they become too intoxicated," he says. "We have seen reports of verbal abuses; some also get physical, which turns the festive season into a period when domestic workers are vulnerable to being exposed to other abuses, as we have seen in past years."
The power imbalance and economic vulnerability make it difficult for domestic workers to report such abuses, particularly when perpetrators may be relatives of their employers—people protected under the Sexual Offences Act.
Addressing gender-based violence
Justice Patricia Nyaundi, a judge of the High Court in the Family Division and a member of the International Association of Women Judges, Kenya chapter, acknowledges the progress made in addressing gender-based violence, even as challenges persist.
"Through the International Association of Women Judges, the Judiciary has made great strides in advancing women's rights, whether it's in succession, different aspects of family law, or gender justice courts," she said during an event marking the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence held in Makadara this month. "In the past years, people would not even report on sexual violence or domestic violence because of the stigma."
Back in that Nairobi kitchen, Catherine finishes her morning tasks and prepares for another day of caring for someone else's children. In Kawangware, Janet heads out to find laundry work, hoping the day's earnings will bring her closer to reuniting with her family. And in Jacaranda, Rosemary counts down the hours until she boards a bus heading western Kenya.
Three women. Three stories. One shared reality: the festive season, with all its promise of joy and togetherness, often bypasses those who make celebrations possible in other people's homes.
