By late afternoon in Mvomero, the heat lingers as the market begins to thin. Dust settles where customers once crowded, and vendors quietly tally the day’s earnings.
Among them is Rosemary, counting the day’s final coins; her hands still scented with bananas and cassava. But her workday is far from over. Soon, she will return home and sit behind her sewing machine, finishing a customer’s dress before nightfall.
Just a few years ago, this rhythm of independence and purpose did not exist in her life.
Read More