Economic Empowerment
“I can't allow my wife to do this work.”
That’s what 33-year-old Françoise Nyiransengiyera was told by her male colleague when she embarked on her career as a delivery agent.
Today, she is one of the better assets on VubaVuba's payroll. Records portray her and another woman as part of the delivery service's top five most dedicated employees, adeptly steering their bikes toward success.
On a sunny afternoon, just past noon, Nyiransengiyera enters the tranquil residential neighborhood of Gacuriro. Retrieving her phone from a pocket near her motorcycle's tire, she signals to the customer that she has arrived at the delivery location.
She balances two bags of groceries, totaling around nine kilograms, in both hands. Clad in ripped, loose-fitted denim, a green-and-yellow T-shirt, and black sneakers, she makes her way through the parking lot and descends to the basement level, where the awaiting client anticipates their order.
Occasionally, the packages she lifts are twice as heavy as the current delivery.
Mostly, though, they are lighter. Her clients, some of whom speak only English, are amiable but often reserved in their interactions. Adjusting to navigating city traffic as an ardent motorcyclist took time for Nyiransengiyera.
She, however, received helpful tips from her male colleagues, whom she says have since become supportive of her and her endeavors.
In contemporary Rwandan society, motorcycle riding is predominantly linked to men, whether it's as a profession, sport, or casual activity on the streets. When the term “motari” (Kinyarwanda word for motorcycle riders) is mentioned, the image that comes to mind is usually that of men donning jeans and puffer jackets, of men in full-body sports gear, and flip-up helmets, hiking boots, and running shoes.
Women in long-sleeve turtlenecks under delivery agent uniforms typically do not come to mind at all.
Gender distribution in various occupations is influenced by a multitude of economic, social, and cultural factors, both within specific regions or countries and on a societal level.
This phenomenon leads to the clustering of women and men in different economic sectors in distinct proportions. Traditionally, physically demanding professions or those requiring physical strength have been perceived as male-dominated. There is a gradual shift in this perspective, albeit at a slow pace.
When VubaVuba officials were first approached by these women who wanted to be delivery agents, their attitude toward it was: “We should make the job easy for them,” Nadine Iradukunda, Head of Operations said.
Parking problems, cash collection, returning change, and handling customers' dissatisfaction are all routine tasks for any delivery personnel.
So in an effort to accommodate these women, VubaVuba reduced their working hours, confined them to less bustling and chaotic neighborhoods, and assigned them lightweight packages.
But “the women themselves insisted that they were capable of handling all the tasks their male counterparts did, and as a result, we decided to let them have the freedom to do so.”
Up until recently, the delivery company had eight female riders. They underwent training that covered customer greeting etiquette, navigating the delivery app and Google Maps, and, most importantly, learning how to ride a motorcycle.
The training program was made possible through sponsorship from the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ), a subsidiary of the German government that focuses on economic development and employment, governance and democracy, and digitalization.
During the nine-month workshop, the women received free instruction on traffic signs, rules, and how to operate a two-wheeler.
The majority of the riders who joined VubaVuba came from economically disadvantaged backgrounds. Many of them had completed at least high school and had a basic proficiency in spoken English. One had to leave the job after becoming pregnant.
Hope Azeda, the founder, and artistic director of Mashirika Creative and Performing Arts, suggested in a recently published autobiography of Rwandan female changemakers that the first step to achieving greatness as women is to reject the notion of women being weak and to avoid internalizing such a mindset.
Dative Numukobwa seems to agree with her.
“This job has the potential to truly inspire and empower women, allowing them to demonstrate their capabilities to themselves and others,” said 25-year-old Numukobwa, a quiet-spoken woman whose dainty facial features and petite physique gives her the appearance of a damsel in distress, though she’s anything but.
As a profession that has historically been male-dominant, as she put it, Rwandans are learning to embrace female delivery agents. When they first started in this profession, they often faced skepticism from friends and family about their job. “They’ll say to me, ‘Can a woman handle this kind of job? Couldn’t you find better options? Do you think you’ll make any money from this?’”
These sentiments are both understandable and a touch disappointing: the delivery service industry has been historically known to largely exclude women. But these new numbers are not the only intriguing aspect to consider.
“The delivery industry is far more comfortable,” shared Solange Uwingabiye, a newbie at VubaVuba who is adamant that she would never return to the streets to transport commuters.
According to the 30-year-old, women who transport clients are frequently subjected to verbal harassment by their male colleagues and are often ridiculed simply because of their gender, especially if they make mistakes in road etiquette.
She continued: “At VubaVuba, even if men have negative thoughts, they no longer verbalize them.”
Granted, there is still a level of “you shouldn’t be doing this.” “But it’s getting better,” Uwingabiye said. “With more women joining the workforce, there’s a sense of ease and comfort that was lacking before.”
She speaks of the job with genuine fondness. And it appears that they all do. This might explain the growing frequency of inquiries about the job from women, and why, says Iradukunda, the “customers leave positive reviews about the female riders.”
Despite facing challenges that may lead them to rush back home for various reasons, the women's work ethics have left a strong impression on the management.
As Iradukunda pointed out, “The women have a better retention rate, are more efficient and disciplined, and are also highly focused.” She didn’t explicitly mention this part but these women are also improving the company’s diversity numbers.
Officials at VubaVuba say they have never received reports of harassment. Nonetheless, as a precautionary measure, they have partnered with the Rwanda Investigation Bureau (RIB) in case any such situation arises.
The women themselves mentioned that although they were initially anxious about the job, they have not faced any molestation. But there are other perceived obstacles that are more commonly cited by them: They fear riding at night. They think the risks — sexual harassment, theft of their phones and bikes — are too great. And one, Numukobwa, worries about experiencing a breakdown on the road, fearing that it might be attributed to her gender as a sign of inadequacy, rather than being seen as an inconvenience that could happen to anyone.
The average wage earned by these women as delivery agents amount to around a hundred and twenty dollars per month (approx: Rwf143,000), although this amount may vary depending on the number of hours they work. The riders who were interviewed by The New Times said that this job has
granted them a certain level of independence.
After working for a few months, Uwingabiye, a mother of two, realized that she could support her household without solely depending on her husband. Nyiransengiyera has even been able to hire two maids to take care of her four children while she is out working. For Numukobwa, the job allows her to save Rwf20,000 every month.
Delivery driving offers earning potential, but the three women acknowledged that it comes with uncertainties and precariousness. As self-employed individuals, they are not afforded the same employment rights and protections as contracted members of the workforce, which adds an additional layer of hardship to their daily experiences.
Still, one way they find some compensation for these challenges is by connecting with like-minded women.
“Women who are interested in becoming delivery riders often do not have the same confidence that their male counterparts do,” Nyiransengiyera said. “Now that they see me and my female colleagues successfully working as delivery agents, they approach me and ask what they need to do to become a delivery agent themselves.” Seeing someone like you in the job gives them the assurance that they, too, can accomplish it, she added.
This underscores the significance of representation, particularly in fields that have been marred by sexism. Watching women like Nyiransengiyera, Numukobwa, and Uwingabiye succeed brings a sense of validation to others.