The recent rescue of a 12-year-old orphaned girl from what authorities described as domestic servitude shocked Kenyans and sparked widespread outrage across social media. For nearly one and a half years, the girl was reportedly kept out of school and forced to care for infant triplets, clean the household and perform numerous other domestic chores. According to reports, she endured threats to her life from the very relative entrusted with her care.
The case is heartbreaking.
But it is also a reminder of a much larger problem that often remains hidden behind the walls of ordinary homes.
Across Kenya, more than 400,000 children are engaged in domestic work. Many end up living with relatives, neighbours or acquaintances who initially promise to provide them with education, shelter and a better future. Too often, however, those promises give way to exploitation, with children becoming unpaid domestic workers instead of learners.
Child labour is not confined to private homes.
Travel through the wheat-growing areas of Narok during harvest season and it is common to see children spending long hours chasing quelea birds away from crops instead of attending school. Similar scenes play out across both rural and urban Kenya, where child labour has become so commonplace that many people no longer recognise it as exploitation.
Kenyan law is unambiguous. Children under the age of 13 cannot legally be employed in any form of work. Those aged between 13 and 16 may only undertake light work that does not interfere with their education, health or development. The law exists to protect children from exploitative and hazardous labour, including domestic work that robs them of their childhood.
Yet the true scale of the problem is often concealed by the language used to describe it.
We call it “helping.” We say a child is “assisting at home” or is “being raised by relatives.” Such phrases soften the reality, making exploitation appear acceptable—even compassionate. They create the impression that a child is merely contributing to family life when, in reality, many are working full-time without pay, education or the freedom enjoyed by other children.
Words matter because they shape how society understands injustice.
There is an important distinction between a child washing dishes after dinner and one who shoulders responsibility for an entire household. There is a difference between teaching responsibility and denying a child an education. There is also a profound difference between family support and forced labour.
The experiences of many child domestic workers reveal the darker side of these arrangements.
Child protection organisations report that some children enter domestic service as young as seven years old. Many work from dawn until late at night, rarely leaving the homes where they live and work. Isolated from friends and the outside world, they are particularly vulnerable to physical, emotional and psychological abuse.
Even more disturbing is the silent nature of the abuse they endure.
Cases of sexual exploitation remain widely underreported because they occur behind closed doors and because children often fear retaliation if they speak out.
At the same time, worsening economic conditions continue to drive vulnerable families towards desperate decisions. Rising living costs, food insecurity and prolonged financial hardship mean some parents or guardians believe sending a child to live with relatives or work in exchange for food and shelter offers the best chance of survival. Too often, however, those arrangements become pathways to exploitation.
Addressing child labour therefore demands more than public outrage after individual cases emerge.
It requires stronger enforcement of existing child protection laws, greater investment in social protection programmes and targeted support for vulnerable households before they reach crisis point. Schools, local administrators, religious institutions and community organisations must also remain vigilant in identifying children who disappear from classrooms or suddenly assume responsibilities far beyond their age.
Above all, we must change how we speak about child labour.
Describing exploitation as “helping” makes it easier for society to overlook it. Language has the power to normalise practices that should instead provoke alarm and action.
If Kenya is serious about protecting its children, we must stop disguising exploitation behind comforting words and call it what it is.
Every child deserves the opportunity to learn, play and grow in safety—not spend their childhood in service to others.
(The writer, Maureen Karanja is the Programs Manager at the Freedom Fund).
