In 2011, while working for a non-profit organization in Kenya, Sabina Habib visited a daycare center in an informal settlement, or slum, of Nairobi. The experience was surprising.
Sabrina Habibi
As she entered the 10-by-3-foot metal hut, where there was almost no light and the stench was terrible, Habib tripped over something—only to realize she had nearly tripped over a little girl. Then she saw more than 15 babies who were eerily silent, clearly so neglected that they had given up all hope for help. She then discovered how widespread such facilities, known locally as baby care, were – about 3,000 in Nairobi’s slums. “The problem was so big, but nobody did anything about it,” she says.
What she saw also shocked her to take action. After several years of research, Habib, who calls herself “accidentally an entrepreneur,” and her then-boyfriend, now husband, Afzal, launched kidogo. The network of childcare facilities strives for a triple play: giving children a good start in life, giving mothers peace of mind and franchisees/childcare operators access to economic opportunities that they would not have had otherwise.
Today there are 763 centers in 33 communities in Nairobi serving a total of 16,206 children five days a week.
The critical first 36 months
Kidogo’s mission is based on an important fact of child development. The first five years, and especially the first 36 months, of a child’s life are critical for cognitive development. For that reason it is crucial to be in a safe, nurturing and stimulating environment.
At the same time, mothers who are in paid employment should be able to do their job without having to worry about their children. But according to the World Bank, 40% of children under school age worldwide – 350 million in all – need and have no access to childcare.
In the informal settlements of Nairobi, mothers face three unsatisfactory childcare options. With little family support, they can leave their child at home alone. Or they may have an older sibling — usually a girl — who takes care of her younger sibling, hurting her chances of getting an education. Or they can leave the baby in a nursery. These establishments are housed in the small shacks in which the residents live, with one woman, according to Habib, who takes care of an average of 22 babies and toddlers. There is little practical care or nutrition, much less light or effective ventilation.
A franchise model
When Habib returned home from her nursery visit, she called Afzal in Toronto and told her what she had seen. By the end of the conversation, they had decided to do something about the problem. “We wondered how we could provide higher quality childcare at about the same price mothers were already paying,” she says. When Habib came home for visits, she and Afzal would discuss their plans on dates, sometimes turning napkins at dinner to chart business plans.
Children in a Kidogo center
The situation was particularly distressing for Habib. As the daughter of immigrants from East Africa who had moved to Toronto before her birth, she felt a deep identification with the children she saw. “If I had been born in the country my parents came from, my life course would have been very different,” she says. “Where a child is born should not determine where it ends up in life.”
Well aware that they were not from the communities experiencing the problem, the co-founders spent two years talking to hundreds of childcare organizations and mothers. They also conducted a global benchmarking study to see if similar problems in slums existed elsewhere. What they learned, Habib says, was that “no one had cracked the code” when it came to providing acceptable childcare defined, she says, by “whether we would send our children to this center.” Also important was whether the operation was sustainable and whether the model was scalable.
The solution they came up with was a franchise model. First, Kidogo invites all daycare centers in the community to a workshop to learn more about the approach. After that, women who have expressed an interest go through an accelerator program that includes the basics of marketing and billion. The program initially lasted 18 months, but was eventually shortened to three. Kidogo then invites qualified participants to become a franchisee. It will also carry out renovations such as creating a skylight and more windows for better lighting and ventilation.
System change
But when the two co-founders approached several NGOs with their research and plan, no one was interested. So they decided they had to do it themselves. “We gave ourselves a year to give it a shot,” Habib says. They saved $15,000 and launched their first center, which they used to show childcare companies in the informal settlement what they had in mind. “We had to show them what was possible,” she says.
Now Kidogo has about 30% market share in every location it serves — a percentage that Habib says it doesn’t want to increase. “For us, scaling is not just scaling our organization, it’s scaling our impact,” she says. Her thought: By not expanding too much in a particular community, residents in that area will pressure other childcare providers in the area to up their game in order to compete. Their research has shown that after a year of exposure to Kidogo, parents change the way they choose which center to select. Where previously it was all about proximity and opening times of the operation, they are now focusing on the level of nutrition, safety and sanitation, as well as how involved the operators of the center are with the children. “For us, that’s system change,” she says.
A nonprofit in the US — which runs on a for-profit basis, would require Kidogo to serve a slightly more affluent customer, which would have diluted its mission, Habib says — the company is registered as an LLC in Kenya. That’s because companies that charge fees cannot register as a non-profit organization in that country.
A career path
There are three types of Kidogo centers. Some operate out of a franchisee’s home. (That’s typically the 10-by-10-foot hut found in Nairobi’s urban settlements). Because those locations also house the woman’s belongings, about eight children fit in them. Others are only used for childcare, so they serve about 15 children. The third operates out of a school that may be able to take children to sixth grade, with a separate room for childcare. They have 40 to 50 children.
That also creates a career path for franchisees, who may start with a home center and gradually expand into a rented space and eventually add classes, until they run a school. As their business grows, franchisees usually hire other women to help as well.
Franchisees have bi-weekly check-ins with Kidogo. And they get access to an app that helps with administrative tasks. Children are also given hard-boiled eggs twice a week to prevent malnutrition. In addition, there is a monthly meeting where all franchisees discuss their challenges, from the long hours to the loneliness of work and a general lack of respect for their livelihood. Habib describes it as “the tackiest” part of her model. Franchisees, who pay a fee of $5 to $15 per month. can increase sales up to two and a half times after a year, Habib said.
