by Natachi Onwuamaegbu
with help from Dianne Saliamo
Photos by Elsa Kariuki
It’s hard to find someone as passionate as Bruno, particularly when it comes to workers’ rights.
In fact, it’s all he can – no – wants to talk about. Get him going, and behind his wide, dark desk and thick black-framed glasses, he lights up. The Hustler Fund, trade unions, cooperative societies, financial inclusion within the gig economy, Bruno breaks down terms, movements, and roadblocks with ease – and as the Director of Communications at Kenya’s Central Organization of Trade Unions (COTU) these skills are vital.
But when it comes to talking about himself, boasting about his own accolades as a 26-year-old activist at the top of his field, he shuts down.
We asked Bruno to give himself some airtime, just briefly, which would mean moving the conversation away from workers he advocates for. In response, Bruno had just one question: “Why? What do I have to do with anything?”
Bruno believes that all young people have a desire for change. That he, and all his accomplishments are not necessarily special.
“I started when I was young and in university,” said Bruno, grasping his hands together. “I was a bit of a radical. Most around me were. We all wanted change.”
But, although he’d hate to admit it, Bruno was one of the few that stood up and reached for it. He started in student government at the University of Nairobi. He was a student leader of his fellow Political Science students, marched on behalf of his and other students’ rights, made a habit of putting on a suit and talking calmly but sternly to school officials, before turning his attention outside of the campus. He was recruited to help found the Anika Initiative, a non-profit which seeks to use art to create safe spaces for conversations about social justice and lead their partnership team. He was a member of the International Trade Union Confederation. He clerked at Kenya National Examination Council. He tutored.
In all ways, he craved leadership. He craved standing up for others – even though in his mind, “I had no choice. I had to help people.”
“I had no choice. I had to help people.”
Just as he says that, a woman knocks on his office door. It’s the third person who’s come to ask for his help in the last 20 minutes. That’s who Bruno is – a helper.
“Is it urgent?” he asks. When she says no, he double-checks, then triple-checks. Then turns back to the interview. “I’m sorry – what were we saying?”
The desire to help people is what drove him to this field, and what’s keeping him there. He takes pride in being a champion for marginalized groups, and one of those subsets is female gig economy workers, like the braiders in Kenyatta Market. These women are vulnerable, and not just for the obvious, working-in-unprotected-marketplace-reasons. Many of the women we perceive as entrepreneurs...
“Well, they’re just not,” said Bruno. “They don’t own their stalls. Yes, they bring in their own clients and charge them rates they deem fair, but at the end of the day, they give a part of their wages to their landlords or to the women in charge of the salons.”
Then there’s also the fact that the payments are handled unofficially. If a braider tries to get a government loan or a line of credit, they can’t track their income, said Bruno. "Like they can't tell anyone exactly how much they will make in the next few months."
While this helps the braiders avoid paying taxes, most of them fall below the threshold for tax withholding anyway. The unofficial payment culture tends to hurt the braiders – and makes them unable to access the resources laid out for gig economy workers.
The rights of female workers are a central point in Bruno’s work – he notes the rise in gender-based violence and a lag in government gig-friendly policies.
The most important thing for Bruno is making sure workers like the braiders know their rights and the services they have access to. Kenya’s economic plane is incredibly gendered. One of the many, many things Bruno wants to do is address that.
“I’ve been on the path to social justice for a long time,” said Bruno. “I believe in financial inclusion, and that means women have to be privy to it too.”
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