By In the busy Nairobi streets, where matatus ( a local slang for passenger’s service vehicles) race past like thoughts in a tired mind, a silent revolution is underway. It’s led not by politicians or tycoons, but by women, mothers who wake before the dawn, prepare breakfast and prepare children for school, and step into a world that rarely gives a glance to notice their efforts. Being a working mother in Kenya’s matatu sector is not just about survival; it’s about resilience, reinvention, and rising above.
In a system shaped by hustle and hardship, these women redefine what it means to work, to mother, and to thrive. The matatu sector represents more than just chaotic public transport. It is symbolic of Kenya’s informal economy a space marked by unpredictability, grit, and constant motion. From small market vendors, domestic workers, and street hawkers to freelance beauticians and kiosk attendants, many women navigate this terrain daily, with no contracts, no job security, and no safety guaranteed. Unlike their counterparts in structured workplaces, these women must carve their paths in a system that was never built with them in mind. They rely on their instincts, their networks, and their sheer which keeps moving both literally and figuratively in a world that is constantly shifting beneath their feet.
Mothers working in this economy wear many hats: breadwinner, caregiver, wife, daughter, and sometimes even a father. A typical day begins before dawn preparing children for school, organizing the home, catching the first matatu to a market miles away. They return long after sunset, sometimes with tired feet and empty hands, but with a determination that refuses to fade.
Take Wanjiru, a single mother of two, who sells boiled maize near a boda boda (local slang for motorcycle rider) stage. Her earnings depend on foot traffic, weather, and luck. Some days are good while other days barely cover supper. But every coin she makes, she says, is a step closer to dignity, to proving that she can raise her children on her own terms.
Women like Wanjiru challenge the idea that empowerment is only achieved in boardrooms or behind office desks. They show us that resilience lives in the everyday choices we make and to persist, to nurture, and to strive for better even when the odds are stacked.
Despite their hard work, many working mothers face layers of judgment from society, from family, and sometimes even from themselves. Cultural norms still expect women to be the primary caregivers, while simultaneously penalizing them for not being “present enough” or “feminine enough.” A woman working late is seen as careless. One taking a break is lazy. One who hires help is spoiling her children. This double standard places immense pressure on women to perform flawlessly, both at work and at home a burden rarely shared equally with men.
Moreover, women in the matatu economy face gender-specific risks: harassment on public transport, exploitation by employers, and lack of legal protections. And yet, they continue. Not because it’s easy but because they must. Their hustle is not a choice; it’s a necessity powered by love, hope, and ambition.
Empowerment in this space is not always loud or glamorous. It shows up in small wins: saving enough for school fees, opening a bank account, refusing to accept a demeaning job offer, or standing up to a controlling partner. These everyday acts are radical in a society where women’s independence is often treated with suspicion. Communities of women have also formed informal savings groups, mentor-ship networks, and daycare cooperatives to support one another. These networks are a lifeline offering not just financial support, but emotional strength and a sense of solidarity In a world that can feel isolating.
It’s time we shift the narrative. Working mothers in the matatu sector are not victims to be pitied they are leaders, innovators, and revolutionaries. They are shaping the economy from the ground up and challenging outdated beliefs about gender roles, success, and motherhood. Empowerment doesn’t have one face. It might look like a woman selling second-hand clothes by day and studying at night. It might sound like a mother negotiating with a matatu conductor for a fairer fare. It might feel like tired arms cradling a child after a twelve-hour hustle. Their stories are not side notes. They are the main characters in the story of Kenya’s progress, its resilience, and its unbreakable spirit.
From Hustle to Her-story Being a working mother in the matatu sector is a daily act of courage. It’s a quiet rebellion against systems that ignore, exploit, and limit. But it’s also a powerful vision of what is possible when women refuse to be confined. If we truly and with sincerity listen to their voices, we will hear not just stories of struggle, but of strength. Not just of hardship, but of hope. And maybe then, as a society, can create systems that honour their labour, support their dreams, notice their struggles and recognize that every matatu ride they take is not just a journey through the city but a journey toward transformation,growth and development.
