The Nanny Chronicle.
When my friend Peige tells this story, she makes it sound pitiful. I, on the other hand, find it hilarious — and deeply eye-opening. I’ve moonlighted as a nanny for five years while juggling my “official” career. And let me tell you: my experiences in spaces that should be safe and inclusive have been nothing short of wild. Humans are endlessly fascinating.
I first met Peige in 2023 at a conference. But here’s the twist: I wasn’t there as a participant. For me, these conferences are vacations while looking after the most delightful little human, the son of a close friend. Since 2020, whenever she’s in Africa, she asks me to care for her son. She covers my travel and accommodation, and I bond with her child, HRH, whom I first cared for when he was just 11 months old. Over the years, our bond has only grown, and his mother now trusts me whenever she’s tied up with work.
So, yes, I have a “real” job. But I proudly wear the nanny title for a few weeks each year. I love it. HRH is a joy to be around, and I get to travel, see new places, and spend quality time with his mother, whom I admire deeply. I never shy away from the title because that’s exactly who I am in those moments. As a nanny, I saw how quickly people dismiss whoever seems unimportant to us in the short time we’re in a space. We leave with more business cards than experiences, hoping the card will open doors, yet the human experience is more likely to forge a long-term relationship.
Being a nanny taught me how quickly people dismiss anyone they deem “unimportant.” At conferences, attendees scramble for business cards, convinced that networking is the key to success. Yet, the real kind that leads to genuine, lasting relationships happens in authentic interactions. When I attended these events as a representative of an “important” organisation, people were eager to connect and collaborate. But as a nanny, I became invisible. HRH’s mom sometimes introduced me as her aide to avoid the awkwardness, because most people assumed I was only there to fetch meals. Few ever imagined I might have a career or a life beyond childcare.
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Zanzibar was different. Peige treated me like any other guest. She didn’t just bark orders or ignore my requests. She asked if she could come into my room, offered to help with my bags, and checked in to ensure everything was okay. For once, I felt seen. I felt human.
It was at that conference that Peige saw me working by the pool, laptop open. That’s when it clicked for her: I wasn’t “just” a nanny. To date, I laugh when she says to people asking how we met, ‘Maseke was working on her MacBook, which nanny has a MacBook?’ We discussed our careers and realised we were in the same field. She was shocked. “Why didn’t you lead with your official title?” she asked. I laughed and told her, “I get to be on vacation for these few weeks. But I also see what I mean to the world without my titles or networks. I get to see people for who they are. The ones who claim to relate to everyone suddenly can’t stomach fraternising with ‘the help.’ So, I’m the nanny on vacation, and my work doesn’t count here.
Let’s not sugarcoat the subtle humiliation you encounter. At one conference, a woman asked me to confirm with the conveners if I was allowed to eat lunch, despite my conference badge. I left with HRH, who had already eaten. At Peige’s event, though, I felt protected. She ensured I was treated like everyone else, not with special treatment, just basic respect. That, I’ve learned, is rarer than you’d think.
Not everyone fits the mold. There are always exceptions. One of them is Daktari, a woman I now call my angel. She first noticed me when HRH was just 11 months old, and she remembered every time she saw me at a conference after that. One day, she offered me an opportunity that changed my life. When I thanked her, she said, “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself for being a good nanny when you didn’t have to be.”
The bottom line…
After five years experiencing what I consider the bottom of the food chain, I’ve seen the best and worst of people. Here’s what I hope you take away: kindness isn’t just for those at the top. The world is watching how you treat the people you think don’t matter. It’s good to chase the money and the connections, but being human will lead the money and the connections to your doorstep. Your behaviour shouldn’t shift depending on what you think I could offer them. It’s amusing and sad to watch people calculate your value based on your title, not your character.
So, the next time you’re at a conference, a retreat, or any gathering, remember: everyone has a story. Everyone deserves to be seen. And sometimes, the nanny by the pool is also an interesting person in the room.
