
If you've ever worked on a mjengo (construction) site in Kenya, chances are you've encountered a few foremen who act as though they own the entire company. Some bark orders like drill sergeants, others double up as evangelists or silent enforcers. From holy rollers to chain smokers, here are ten unforgettable types of foremen found on Kenyan building sites.
Before any cement is mixed or a single nail hammered, this foreman gathers the team for prayer and a quick sermon. He’ll preach the Word with passion and conviction. Don’t be surprised if, after paying your wages, he reminds you to tithe — because, according to him, that’s how you save for a rainy day.
The complete opposite of the evangelist, this foreman cannot report to work without kutoa lock (taking a morning drink). Often slightly tipsy by 10am, he slurs his instructions and, on bad days, naps while the rest are hard at work. His boss has issued countless warnings — all of which fall on deaf ears.
This foreman is crafty. He’ll hide five bags of cement in broad daylight and pressures the mdosi to send more materials claiming they are not enough. He’ll mark you present all week even if you only worked two days — then pocket the extra cash without blinking. Everything about him is a scam, and he’s mastered the art.
Married, but perpetually on the prowl. This foreman hits on every woman who comes to sell food at the site. If a mama wants to secure a good vending spot or avoid having debts go unpaid, she must be "in his good books" — often in more ways than one. Let’s just say, payment isn't always in cash.
In his eyes, workers are machines - even slaves and the boss should get the most out of them. He demands maximum output at minimal cost. Take a break and he’ll yell at yo and call you all sorts of names. From 8am to 7pm, it’s go-go-go — and don't expect a single shilling in overtime. His sole mission is to impress the boss and bag that next promotion.
He walks and talks like he owns the entire construction company. He’ll boast about how long he’s been in the business, how many skyscrapers he’s helped build, and how dozens of contractors are fighting to hire him. Humility is not in his vocabulary.
He’s all business. No jokes. No banter. No nonsense. His permanent scowl could curdle milk. Try making small talk, and he’ll give you the coldest stare this side of Nairobi. Laughter is a foreign language to him — and woe unto you if you try to joke around him.
Loved by nearly all labourers, this extroverted foreman knows how to balance authority and camaraderie. He cracks jokes, buys you samosa on payday, and calls you by your nickname. He freely interacts with other laborers to the extent that you may not think that he is the boss.
This foreman doesn’t just supervise — he does the work. You’ll find him knee-deep in plastering, hauling bricks, or mixing concrete himself. He’s often more hands-on than the masons he manages, and you’ll rarely catch him idle.
For him, a day’s work is punctuated by frequent smoke breaks. Since cigarettes are banned on site, he sneaks off to a quiet corner to get his fix. Ask him about it, and he’ll tell you bluntly: “My mind can’t function without nicotine.” He even sells cigarettes to others — because why not profit from a craving?