Enslaved in Palo Alto

For the rest of the day, legal documents say, Alice was to clean the apartment, do all the cooking, either wipe down the exterior of Njuguna-Githinji's car by hand or wash it with water, and hand-wash her boss' clothes and bed linens. (Alice claimed in an interview that her employer didn't want her to use the washer and dryer in the apartment because "[Njuguna-Githinji] was paying me to do the work.")

Njuguna-Githinji's attorneys dispute the description of work alleged by Alice in her civil complaint.

Alice's relationship with Njuguna-Githinji had clearly soured, though she wasn't sure why. "When we reach here, she really changed," Alice says. "In Kenya, she talked to me sometimes. We reach here, she would just command me to do something: 'You have to do this.' 'Why haven't you done this?'

"I used to fear her, and even if I feel I have a question, I didn't ask her. ... I was not free with her like before."

Out of fear, Alice didn't complain, not even at the end of the first month, when Njuguna-Githinji gave her only $100 in pay -- $800 less than her employer had promised, and significantly less than California law requires.

"[Njuguna-Githinji] said, 'You should not complain; this is enough for you,'" Alice recalls.

As the months passed and Alice became trapped in a web of drudgery, the confident and outspoken Njuguna-Githinji blossomed into a noted member of the local community. Having published articles about the importance of female government leadership in Kenya and exposés on police brutality, she seemed vocally committed to social justice. She gave talks titled "Issues That Affect Women in Africa" for Stanford and UC Berkeley audiences and moderated a panel discussion on African oil exploration and its effect on human rights for Stanford's 2003 Africa Week. She also took part in a "Careers in Journalism" workshop for the university's Center for Comparative Studies in Race and Ethnicity, for which her work was described as involving "reporting on women and children in war."

A willing hostess, Njuguna-Githinji occasionally invited guests -- African students of the university or other Knight Fellows -- to her apartment for dinner. During these parties, Alice cooked; she says she was instructed not to speak to the visitors and to remain in the kitchen until they had left. If Njuguna-Githinji expected friends to visit her during the day, she instructed Alice to take her son to a nearby park and to stay there until after the visitors were supposed to leave.

Njuguna-Githinji's attorneys, however, say Alice was not isolated from the community and that the domestic worker was free to come and go. "Alice was never restricted in her travel," Abrams says. "She has never been restricted in her activities. She worked for other people and did baby-sitting for them. She attended social activities with Wanja. People met her." (Alice's attorneys say that Alice did frequently attend social events with Njuguna-Githinji, though she was always working as a baby-sitter to Njuguna-Githinji's son and other Knight Fellows' children. They also say that on some occasions, Knight Fellows asked Njuguna-Githinji if Alice could baby-sit their children in their homes, and Njuguna-Githinji agreed.)

A number of journalists who know Njuguna-Githinji through the 2002 Knight Fellowship say that they never saw evidence that Alice was mistreated, and that they are shocked that Alice would try to sue Njuguna-Githinji, whom they describe as ambitious, courageous, and caring.

"The way [Njuguna-Githinji is] characterized in the lawsuit is totally out of character," says Andy Maykuth, an African correspondent for the Philadelphia Inquirer. "The allegations about things like long hours ... sure, [Alice] did work long hours, because Wanja was working long hours. She was attending classes, doing a lot of speeches on campus, attending a lot of Knight Fellowship functions, so Alice was taking care of [Njuguna-Githinji's son] for a lot of that time.

"I'm not privy to their private lives, but we need to understand more about how a housekeeper in Africa would work ... what is considered normal there is different than what it would be here. It's a different world [in Kenya], and whatever arrangement they had over there may have been a normal relationship in Africa, but it may not have translated very well into America."

Knight Fellows also say that when they saw Alice, she tended to be quiet, pleasant, and smiling. "There was no indication or hint [of anything amiss]," says Jim Bettinger, director of the John S. Knight Fellowship. "I look back -- was there some sign that I could have missed? -- and I find nothing."

"She did have some freedom," adds Maykuth. "She was able to establish some sort of life [outside of work]."