Some 10 or so years ago, and at a time when I frequently wrote feature articles for this newspaper, I was introduced to a man who wanted a little subtle publicity for his NGO.
What the NGO did came as a surprise to me: it recruited middle-aged women, specifically widows, from some of Nairobi’s low-cost residential areas, and taught them – there is really no other way to put this – how to “cook for mzungus”.
The training was free, as the only qualification was that the trainee proves that they were the sole provider in a family with young children.
And the ladies were guaranteed a job at the end of their training since there was so much demand for such skilled domestic labour: for cooks who knew the difference between an omelette, scrambled eggs and eggs Benedict and could whip up any of these at the request of their employers.
The NGO chief told me that most of the middle-aged women graduating from his training programme, wept copious tears as they received their certificates of completion, as they knew that from that day onward, their children would not go hungry.
Indeed they could move to a better neighbourhood and be certain to pay their rent on time. Also, their children would not be routinely sent home for school fees.
I thought of these skilled domestic staff, as I read of – what is effectively – the end of USAID as we know it.
USAID was one of the largest employers of the kind of expatriates who require the services of domestic staff whose culinary skills go beyond cooking chapatis and stew.
I could not find any reliable source for just how many American expatriates employed by USAID were in Kenya at the time the axe was cruelly brought down on their comfortable lifestyles.
But I once interviewed a USAID regional director for East Africa, and – though this was not part of the interview – I seem to remember a figure of 200 being mentioned, though that may have included contractors, who have set up businesses or are employed in NGOs, which depend on USAID contracts.
Each of these would represent substantial employment for such skilled domestic staff.
And not only cooks. On a visit to one such expatriate, not that long ago, I counted four domestic staff hard at work even as lunch was served.
There was a young woman walking a toddler around the immaculate garden. A gardener applying himself to the flowerbeds.
The cook who made us that delicious lunch. And another man moving around the house whom I assumed was a general-purpose cleaner.
Most likely he was also the one who looked after the swimming pool, which glistened invitingly in the sunlight.
Add to that the security guard and you would have five locals previously employed to look after that one expatriate family, who by now will have lost their jobs. But it’s not only domestic staff likely to be affected.
There is the likely devastation of landlords too. Those who know about such things will tell you that expatriate tenants are the very best tenants that you can get and that you can make long-term plans based on the rental cash flow if you have such a tenant.
The difference between such expatriate tenants and supposedly “rich Kenyans” who also sometimes rent such high-end properties, is that when it comes to the Kenyan, his “wealth” may well reflect more of a lifestyle choice than substantive wealth as such. A truly rich Kenyan will usually own the luxurious house he stays in.
The kind of Kenyan, who rents such a house, will most likely be doing so to create an impression of wealth, as part of the image he feels will help facilitate business deals. And these deals do not always work out, sometimes leaving the “rich entrepreneur” with no choice but to make a quiet exit, leaving his expensive furniture behind; and to also change his mobile phone number.
There will be many who have invested in fancy rental properties in Nairobi, currently dazed and wondering where their next “good tenant” is coming from.
