Holy Spirit, House Girls & Hustle

If you’ve ever prayed in tongues while reheating tea for the third time, welcome, sis—you’re in the right place. Nairobi motherhood is not just a role; it’s a full-blown spiritual assignment. Between dodging traffic, decoding toddler tantrums, and discerning whether your house girl is genuinely confused or just pretending not to know where the mop is, life can feel like a cross between a revival meeting and a reality show.

I’m a working mum, a woman of faith, with a certificate in multitasking under pressure. I’ve sent work emails with one hand while disciplining my toddlers and with my feet wiping porridge off the floor. I’ve rebuked imaginary demons from under the bed and negotiated peace treaties between siblings over stolen crayons. And through it all, I’ve learned that survival requires The Holy Spirit (because therapy is expensive)

So grab your lukewarm tea, lock the bathroom door for five minutes of peace, and let’s talk about the beautiful chaos of raising kingdom kids in a city that never rests. 

In my early motherhood days, I was that mum: judgmental, self-righteous, perched high on my ivory tower of good intentions. I'd watch families rotate helpers faster than Safaricom data bundles and think: "Shish......., not me! My house girl will be treated with dignity and respect. She'll call me 'siz,' we'll read the Bible together, and she'll practically become family."

Well... life, in all its comedic timing, decided to serve me the largest slice of humble pie with extra sauce 😂....

House Girl One: The Two-Week Disaster 🚩

She came. I saw, I fired. She vanished. Two weeks in, and my house looked like a post-election rally. 'Siz' disappeared faster than Safcom bundles during a Zoom call. 

I learned quickly: Nairobi house girls don’t play. They come with humility lessons, free delivery, no warranty. 😅

House Girl Two: The Mid-Zoom Salary Warrior 💸

My second one started off wonderfully. She was sweet, caring, and seemed like an answered prayer. But soon, the clouds gathered. She developed an attitude 

One day, she packed her bags, put the baby to sleep (God bless her), knocked on my bedroom door mid-client call, and said, “Madam, nataka pesa yangu sahii. Kuja uone kama nimeiba.” She left like a boss. I stared at the door like, “God, you giveth and you taketh away.” 😂

House Girl Three: Hope Restored

My third one restored some hope. She was wonderful. We had a good rhythm, mutual respect, and genuine care for Mumo. But then she got a baby of her own, and we released her to go nurture her newborn. It was bittersweet. I was happy for her, but also suddenly aware that I was back to square one.

It was after this 'siz' that things began to go reeeeally south. Let’s just say… I have since lost count of the number of house girls who have passed through my door.

House Girl Four: The "Angel" with Hidden Wings 😇

This one was everything: timely, neat, respectful, consistent. She would answer before I called her. She was perfect, and for 18 months, my home finally breathed. 

But then, my spirit became unsettled with her. At first, I brushed it off. After all, life was happening at a dizzying speed. My career was on overdrive (side note: I am now firmly convinced that mothers to young children should avoid consulting jobs at all costs, it’s the surest way to cook yourself alive). Wema joined the family, I fell sick, and eventually, I was clinically diagnosed with depression brought on by burnout. The mild depression did a number on me and it even affected my memory for close to 12 months. 

In the midst of all this, I convinced myself that I was being delusional about the help. I doubted the small, still voice that kept whispering, “Something is not right.” I doubted my own eyes. Mostly because I was tired, foggy, and my mind was unsettled.

Then one day, God pulled back the veil and we discovered that our “angel siz” had been stealing from us. Suddenly, the scales fell off my eyes. Things started making sense. Our food budget had quietly tripled, yet our rate of consumption had not. I used to wonder how two adults, a toddler, and a baby could consume 20 kgs of rice in a month. Meanwhile, she was also dabbling in some rather questionable spiritual practices, sorcery and divination, to be precise. But God... 🙌🏽

I was grateful, but confused. Grateful that the truth had finally come to light. Grateful that God had protected us despite my tiredness, blindness, and hesitation. But then, I was back to square zero, a crazy career, no house help, with a preschooler, a toddler, and a recovering brain.

The Sorcery Chronicles Continue 😳🧹

The spiritual warfare wasn't over. I've encountered a few more dabbling in the dark arts. 

There is a legend that lasted exactly 10 hours. Not 10 days, 10 HOURS, 7pm to 5am. When she arrived that evening, my heart got unsettled, and I decided to pray, and God started to reveal things.  Fake name, fake work history, fake everything.  This woman had fabricated everything: name, backstory, references, probably her entire existence. Her story, and that of her referee was pure fiction, I confronted her at sunrise. She confessed, I fired!!

There was the one who kept us sleepless, afraid, and everything fear. The kids were getting nightmares, the parents were not sleeping, we were suddenly very fearful of the night in our house, an experience that we had never had. 

You know, when you've been burned, you learn to smell smoke from the next county. This one I fired very fast. The day I terminated her employment, I offered to drop her at the stage as I headed to work. But honestly? I was terrified. God had revealed some deeply unsettling things about her spiritual activities. So I demanded she sit in the front passenger seat where I could keep an eye on her.

Then, in a moment that still gives me chills, she said: "Nimeona hawa watoto venye wanamuogopa Mungu, na nimeamini Mungu amewazingira. Wakiendelea hivi, Hakuna kitu itawadhuru maishani. Hii Imani ya hawa watoto nimeinona na wewe sana sana. Mama Mumo unamuogopa Mungu".

With that, I asked her to get out of my car immediately. But I was amazed that the enemy also acknowledged God's protection!!

Lessons from the Battlefield:

1.   Divine HR is Non-Negotiable; Forget CVs. Forget glowing reviews. If the Holy Spirit says “No,” don’t argue. He’s saving you from drama that would make a documentary: 

“The Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7.

2.   Fast and Pray Over Major Decisions; You’re not just hiring help. You’re inviting someone into your spiritual space. Pray. Fast. Ask God to vet them for you: 

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.” Proverbs 16:3 

“By prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” — Philippians 4:6.

3.   Listen to the Still, Small Voice; That small voice? That unease? That “hmmm something’s off”? Don’t ignore it. It’s Divine Intel. God whispers before He shouts: 

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

"Isaiah 30:21 “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” — John 10:27.

4.   Consider Career Flexibility; Here's where Erica Komisar's research becomes personally convicting. If you’re raising littles, consider work that allows you to be present. Your kids don’t need perfection. They need you. Calm. Centered. Prayed up. This doesn't mean abandoning professional aspirations, but rather choosing paths that don't require you to be perpetually stressed, distracted, or absent from your life. 

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”  Ecclesiastes 3:1

Final Thoughts

Motherhood in Nairobi is not for the faint of heart. It’s a spiritual sport. You need God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. You need discernment, prayer, and a sense of humor that can survive lukewarm tea and spiritual warfare.