If someone had told me two years ago that one day I would shock my entire village, I would have laughed in their face. My life was nothing but struggle. I was a simple woman selling mtumba clothes at the local market.Every day, I would spread out my bales under the scorching sun, bargaining with customers for as little as fifty shillings.
Some days I made a little profit, but most days I went home empty-handed.People in the village used to look down on me. They mocked my work, calling me “mama mitumba.” Even some relatives avoided me, as if poverty was a curse they did not want to catch. I endured the humiliation quietly.To read more , click here
