Africa Needs Martin Luther King’s Dream

By Leah H. Mwainyekule

Fifty years ago, on August 28, 1963, at least 250,000 people marched towards the Lincoln Memorial stadium in Washington, United States, and heard the famous speech by Martin Luther King Jr., widely known as “I Have a Dream.”

This prominent speech was among a number of speeches by Dr. King, and it dwelt on the importance of having equal rights for all citizens.  During that time, African-Americans were segregated due to racism that was wide spread in the country.  An African-American was still living in deep poverty in the middle of a sea full of riches.  An African-American was still living a terrible life in the middle of other wealthy people.  Dr. King wanted to make sure that this segregation comes to an end, and that is why he had a dream.

Dr. King’s dream was not directed to African-Americans alone, but was a reflection of things that were going on in the whole world.  America was only an example of a country that practiced racism to the extent of Africans not being able to have better jobs, not being able to sleep in nice hotels, and not being able to vote or do anything meaningful.

Dr. King’s dream was talking about the suffering that Africans endured all over the world.  Being colonialized, marginalized, grabbed of land in their own country, denied the opportunity to vote and choose the leader they want, and denied the chance of using the natural resources that are in their own land.

Dr. King’s dream was that of seeing Africans, in their country, living in peace and harmony.  It was to see the available resources being used to develop the African.  It was one of seeing people vote, and do so in a free and fair manner; and for the results to be truthful, depending on the votes being cast.  His dream was to see justice being served to all people, black or white, Africans or Europeans, Christians or Muslims, old or young, rich or poor.  In short, his dream focused on talking about people’s rights throughout the world.

In his speech, “I Have a Dream”, here are some of the words that Dr. King said in front of the hundreds of people who gathered to listen to him:

“But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. 

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today my friends -- so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.  I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. 

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.  Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that, let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.  Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.  Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi -- from every mountainside.  Let freedom ring.

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring -- when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children -- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics -- will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Now it is 50 years since this prominent speech was heard throughout the world.  Dr. King is already dead, dead by a bullet because of his fighting for freedom for the world.  The question that I am asking myself, is, has this dream come true?  As we commemorate 50 years since he shared his dream, has it happened?

I am talking here about the whole world’s dream, and not just America’s.  I am talking here about the Africans’ dream to free themselves from the claws of the colonialists and finally being able to govern themselves.  I am talking here about the dream of every one who has the right to vote not only be able to vote, but be able to do so through a free and fair process, without any fears.

I am talking here about the dream of having the casted votes being announced, and the voters agreeing with it.  I am talking about the dream that will see Africans, in their continent full of honey and milk, being able to use their resources for the benefit of all Africans, for their people, for their children.  It is a dream meant to see all children be able to go to school, everybody being able to afford three meals a day, everyone have access to clean and safe water, and everyone enjoying the benefits of the resources available.

The dream that I’m talking about is that of seeing Africans live peacefully, instead of killing each other because of minerals that are in their land.  It is the one that does not want to see Africans stabbing each other only because of religious differences.  It is the one that does not want to see Africans throwing tear gas at each other simply because they have different political ideologies.

The dream I am talking about does not want to see a certain group thinking that it is the one with the right to rule, as if the leadership was a monarchy that could only be left by death.  It is not a dream that will see a politician deciding to use money to win an election, without even knowing where the money came from and how it would be repaid.  It is not a dream of leaders refusing to let go of power when their time is up, as if the constitution told them that the leadership belongs only to them, and no one else.  It is not a dream of seeing politicians insulting each other instead of arguing with valid points. Oh no, that is definitely not the dream!

It is a dream that wants to see Africa change, and freedom ring.  Just as it was with Dr. King’s dream, let freedom ring from the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro to the minerals of the Democratic Republic of Congo.  Let freedom ring from the shores of Lake Nyasa to the gold mines of South Africa.  Let freedom ring from the Mosques of Egypt to the camps of Sudan.  Let freedom ring from the villages of Zimbabwe to the forests of Rwanda.  From every corner of the African continent, let freedom ring.

And if we let that happen, of we let freedom ring, if we let it ring from every village and every place, from every state and every town, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, Nigerians and Tanzanians, Kenyans and Somalis, Moroccans and Mozambicans, Christians and Muslims, Arabs and Africans, black and white, politicians and citizens, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

  

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Just Thinking Aloud: I Cry for the African Child

By Leah H. Mwainyekule

FOUR years ago I visited a very remote village called Shidunda.  The village is located in Nyimbi ward, Mbozi district in Mbeya, in the Southern Highlands of Tanzania.  In that small village I met an eleven year old boy called Andrea.  He was disabled, using a wheelchair to help him move from one place to another, with his fellow children happy to push the chair up the hills, whenever Andrea needed a hand.  Andrea was in standard two at the time, and although he was old for his class, at least he was lucky to be taken to school.  His past story is an example of how many African Children are denied the right to education just because they are disabled.

To cut a long story short, Andrea’s father had passed away, and his mother was the one taking care of him.  However, the grandfather did not want his grandson to be seen by anyone because he was disabled.  It just happened that one day the Shidunda Primary School head teacher was in the neighborhood checking if children who had reached the age of going to school had been registered.  As he was getting closer to Andrea’s home, he saw four children playing; but as he got there, he found only three.  That was when he discovered that Andrea was hidden under a sack so that he couldn’t be seen.

But Andrea was lucky that the teacher saw him and made sure that he was enrolled and started attending classes.  His grandfather did not know that being disabled is not a curse, and neither did Andrea or his fellow children know that he had rights just like any other child in the world.  And that is the real situation of today’s African Child. Does this child really know his rights? How about the community that surrounds him? Do they really know?

On June 16 each year, Africa celebrates the Day of the African Child.  This day was first initiated by the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), honoring those who participated in the Soweto Uprising of June 16 1976 where about ten thousand black school children marched in a column more that half a mile long, protesting the poor quality of their education and demanding for their right to be taught in their own language.  Hundreds of young students were shot, and more than a hundred people killed in the protests the following two weeks.

This day, which has been celebrated by Africa since 1991, aims at raising awareness of the continuing need for improvement of the education provided to African children and other things that affect them.  This year’s theme for the day is "Eliminating Harmful Social and Cultural Practices Affecting Children: Our Collective Responsibility."

Now, as children have celebrated this day all over the continent, I have been asking myself one question: Has the African Child really been reached?  I’m talking here about involving children like Andrea, those who live in the remote areas where there is no electricity, nor the luxury to learn about this important day through the media.  I’m talking about people like Andrea’s grandfather, who have no idea about this day and about the rights of the child, and who only need someone to tell them that this child is not a curse, but a blessing from God who can do wonders if given the opportunity that is given to other children elsewhere.

And that is what makes me cry for the African Child.

I cry for the African Child who comes from the very remote places like Shidunda, Kantalamba, Idweli, Iseselo, Koboko, Hayadesh, Mbuganyekundu, Jobaj, Mnyuzi, Chekelei, Mbwakeni, Ndaoya and Makongorosi.  I cry for that child who doesn’t even know that June 16 is the most important day of their lives, for them to celebrate their being and demand for their rights.

Yes I cry for the African Child – even that one in the city – who is forced to burn out in the sun while the ‘grown ups’ take the front seats in the shade, claiming to celebrate this day with the child who does not even understand their ‘grown up’ speeches and just enjoys the fun of being able to sing and dance, without even understanding its history.

I do cry for the African Child who has parents and guardians who do not even know about this day, and still think that a child is a commodity that can be turned and twisted around any time they feel like it.  Parents and guardians who, if reached, could make a positive change and help bring up a generation that will be free of revenge, free of hatred and free of emptiness.  A generation that would make the African Child feel proud to be African.

I also cry for the African Child whose celebration this year was overshadowed by another important celebration, “Fathers’ Day”.  The African Child that couldn’t even see well-wishers posting about their day on Facebook, Twitter and the likes.  The African Child who wasn’t even given much importance in the media outlets, other than a small portion in the inside pages, since the story doesn’t “sell”.  Yes I cry.

And as I think about children like Andrea, I cannot stop but to wonder if we are really doing any justice to the African Child.  They deserve a lot more, and they deserve a bigger voice.  And until something happens to give them the full attention that they deserve, I will cry more and more.  Yes, I cry for the African Child.

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Saved by the bell: Obtaining an education instead of an early marriage

By Leah H. Mwainyekule

SEVENTEEN year old Hawa Yuba had only one option when she completed primary school – to get married.  No, it wasn’t out of love; in fact she hardly even knew her future husband.  She did it because it was the only way out of her problems.  It was either get married or starve.  She had no idea that her guardian angel was about to save her.

Hawa had been living with her mother and five siblings, and she completed standard eight in 2010.  With the difficult condition in which her family was living, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to join secondary school, even though she was selected for form one. One day, a man from the village came to propose marriage, and, feeling devoid of options, she agreed to be his wife.

The would-have-been student got married to a man she hardly knew immediately after completing her primary education, and lived with him as his loyal wife for a whole month before he left the village and went to Blantyre. 

“I don’t even know how old the guy was.  Actually, I never asked him although we were married,” explains Hawa.

Hawa’s mother, Sifati Solomon, felt bad that she had agreed to her daughter’s marriage but did not know where to obtain help.  Her friends and neighbors advised her to visit Namwera AIDS Coordinating Committee (NACC) so that her daughter could receive educational assistance through the Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) Child Protection Support Project.  NACC was able to provide the support Hawa needed to go back to school.

“My husband called one day to ask how I was doing, and that’s when I broke the news to him that I was going to school, and he should feel free to marry any other woman,” says Hawa.  “He didn’t argue.  He said that he respected my decision, and so we got a divorce.”

Hawa says that she wasn’t happy with the married life because she wanted to obtain an education.  Her marriage happened because of her difficult financial situation.   Luckily, after her decision to get a divorce the village council met with parents from both sides, and agreed to dissolve the marriage.  Even the husband didn’t demand anything, saying that his wife had also played her part by helping with chores at his parents’ house.

Hawa is now in form one at the Majuni Secondary School in Kamwendu village (Mangochi District) in the Southern region of Malawi, and she wants to be a nurse one day.  “I really admire the way they wear their white dresses and walk along the corridors giving pills to the patients.  They look lovely and I want to be doing that one day,” she explains, adding:  “I don’t want to get married again; maybe I might think about it after being a nurse.”

Hawa’s mother admits that she made a huge mistake by agreeing to the marriage.  She felt so distraught about it, that when she went to NACC’s offices she asked them to escort her to the police station so that she could turn herself in for getting involved in a forced marriage.

NACC officials took her to the Victims’ Support Unit, a government office that helps in addressing gender based violence and promoting women’s rights.  The quality improvement team did an assessment and realized that Hawa getting married wasn’t a deliberate move by her mother, who wanted the best for Hawa.  Sifati had thought that marriage would offer her daughter an opportunity for a better life.  The officials understood the Sifati’s plight and asked her to promise that she will encourage her daughter to study hard, and concentrate in her studies.

“I am thankful that NACC helped save my daughter, and now my heart is at peace,” says the mother of six.  Her first born is a school dropout, Hawa is her second born, and the other four are studying in primary school.  They all depend on her tomato business, since her first husband with whom she had four children had passed away, and her second husband with whom she has two children separated from her and is not helping them.

Being seventeen years old can be very confusing.  One moment you think that you’re on top of the world, while you actually might be drowning.  In the case of Hawa, she got married in one month, divorced the next, and back to school afterwards.  Poverty almost robbed Hawa of her dreams and future.  Hawa is thankful for the opportunity to study and strongly believes that her guardian angel has always been with her every step of the way.

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(Leah visited Malawi in December 2010, under a program implemented by Pact Malawi)

How denial nearly killed the Kanyawire’s

By Leah Mwainyekule

Two years after James Kanyawire’s daughter died after falling sick in 1999, James decided to take an HIV test.  The results were positive, but he didn’t want to believe it.  He looked at himself in the mirror and thought that he was too healthy to be infected.  He didn’t even bother to tell his wife or take another test.  He didn’t even imagine that he could fall sick one day.  He didn’t even think that the virus could spread.  Yes, he was living in denial.

Denial was what nearly cost the lives of James and his beautiful wife Faggie.  They had another daughter who suffered the same fate as the first one, and they too fell sick at the same time.  They were too sick to even take care of each other, and slowly, they started realizing that living in denial will eventually kill them.  And it nearly did.

“We had reached a point that both of us were too sick to do anything, and so my relatives had to come and take me somewhere else, and my wife’s relatives also had to take her somewhere else,” remembers James

When the Kanyawire’s second child died in 2004, they decided to take a test and the result came out positive for both husband and wife.  This time James believed the results and knew that their status was the reason for their children’s premature deaths, but he was still hoping for a miracle.

“We were referred to the Thyolo Hospital so that we could start treatment, but didn’t go.  We still looked healthy by that time and I was just hoping that some kind of miracle might happen and the virus might just vanish,” he says.  But after falling sick badly to the extent of being taken care of by different relatives, the pair decided to change.

“I had actually reached the last stage of AIDS,” recalls James.  “I had wounds in my mouth and throat, my body was sour, my weight was down, you couldn’t look at my skin and I couldn’t even walk.  I was also coughing continuously.”  According to the couple, the wife was even worse than her husband.  “I developed skin cancer in my legs and my weight dropped to 28 kilograms,” says the wife, Faggie, who now enjoys her weight of 52 kilograms.  Her skin is also healed.

The worse thing is that upon knowing their HIV status, the couple used to quarrel a lot, with the wife accusing her husband of bringing the disease since he used to sleep elsewhere most of the time and get back home drunk the next morning.

The Community Partnership for Relief and Development (COPRED) organization, in Lilongwe, Malawi, helped save the Kanyawire’s.  When Faggie was being taken care of by her relatives, a volunteer visited her and convinced her to join a support group of people living with HIV.  She had also started taking ARVs and was receiving food supplements from COPRED.  Recovery was fast.

Upon sharing the good news from his wife, James returned to Blantyre where he and his wife were both in the same support group.  He also started the ARV treatment and found his body recovering pretty fast, and in one month.  However, life wasn’t easy for the Kanyawire’s.

“I had stopped working when I felt sick and we had even sold our house items to get money for treatment, so we were actually starting from scratch,” says James, who used to be a hotelier.  “We started depending on charity from religious institutions and COPRED itself.”

That was 2008.  Luckily for them, the pair was selected to go for a counseling training, and that was when James started working as a volunteer for the Chilomoni Health Centre, while his wife was stationed at the Soche health Centre.    In mid 2009, COPRED employed James as an HIV Counselor and Tester, a position he enjoys until now.

James speaks of his job so fondly, expressing how he loves it because he knows that those infected will get better, even though they are suffering, as he is a living example of that.  “It’s as if God was waiting for me to start suffering so that he could give me this job and help save others,” he says.

The couple is planning on having a child one day, and they’re just waiting for Faggie’s CD4 count to be strong enough so that they could start producing.  “We only want one child, and we know that we will always be with that child,” says James.

The Kanyawire’s are now born-again Christians who want to help other people help themselves.  They know that if they had kept on living in denial, they would have already been history by now.  They have only one advice for everybody out there: “Denying your HIV status is like signing your own death certificate.” Yes, James and Faggie definitely don’t have plans of signing theirs.

(Leah visited Malawi in December 2010 under a program implemented by Pact Malawi)

  

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The old man with a big smile

By Leah H. Mwainyekule

AS he stands in his shop serving customers, the old man looks happy.  A big smile on his face assures the buyers that they have come to the right place.  He sells commodities to them, jokes with them and laughs with them.  But behind his laughter, behind his smile, behind his jokes, is a sad story of being neglecting by his own children for being HIV positive.

Collington Mwakipesile realized he was HIV positive in 2004 when he decided to take a voluntary test after noticing that he had the symptoms.  When it was confirmed that he was actually positive, he decided to tell his older daughters but they didn’t like it.  And ever since, they are not really close to him.

“That year two of my children died of AIDS and I was taking care of them here at home.  After they passed away I realized that I also had some of the symptoms that they had, and I was falling sick more often.  I decided to take the test and it was confirmed that I was HIV positive,” he explains.  “But unfortunately when I told my other two daughters, I experienced stigma from them.”

Things with his wife were not better as well.  She got angry and refused to take the test.  During that time she got too much into drinking and used to get back home passed midnight or even the following day.  They used to fight a lot and all the children were on their mum’s side.

“One day we had a huge fight and my son decided to help him mother and fight me as well.  They were all over me and that was when I realized I had nothing left.  I decided to leave the house and stay on my own,” he remembers with sadness.  However, their relatives intervened and told him to go back home and that the children were old enough to rent their own place.  His wife decided to leave with the children.

“I got lonely, very lonely to the point that sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and start crying like a baby,” Collington says.  But not anymore.  The 67 year old has found peace in his group called Upendo where he is the Secretary General.  The group that has members who are people living with HIV in the Sinde ward in Mbeya Urban, implements under KIHUMBE through its Home Based Care program.

“The group has been my family and my whole life.  I have found peace because there are people here who love me and treat me as a human being,” he explains.  Through the group, he has also been able to borrow money that they contribute each week, and has managed to open a shop and a stall where he sells house products.  He also has one goat that was provided to him by the program, and he expects that it will produce many more goats in the future.

And Mr. Collington has not given up on his kids either: “I still love my daughters; and although they are not close to me, most of the time I try to contact them and visit them.  They are still my children and I will always be their father.”  And with this, he smiles again.  A big smile that assures everyone that Collington is now a happy man who is looking forward for a brighter future.

  

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HIV Positive? Not the End of the World

By Leah H. Mwainyekule

 

WHEN her husband passed away and left her four months pregnant, she had no idea that her life would become unbearable.  She had no idea that she would suffer and be rejected by her own relatives, and she had no idea that she was HIV positive.

Teresia Damian is HIV positive.  She doesn’t hide it and wants people to know about her status so that she could help her community change their behavior towards HIV positive people.  She also wants to help those who are positive like her, by encouraging them to know that it isn’t the end of the world for them.  Actually, she is a happy woman.

“I learned that I was HIV positive when I was sixth months pregnant with my last born and had to get tested at the antenatal clinic.  I later found out that my late husband’s relatives had known about what led to his death but did not tell me,” she recalls, adding: “Actually when I learned of my test results I felt devastated, but then I picked myself up and decided to be strong.”

But Teresia’s journey to happiness was not that easy.  Her husband’s relatives kicked her out of the house with nothing but a small bag of her clothes.  She had to move from Korogwe district to Tanga City in Tanga region, north of Tanzania and start a new life with her three year old daughter, living in her aunt’s home while she finds a job.  She gave birth to a healthy baby boy and vowed to protect him from contracting the virus.

“I decided to stop breastfeeding him when he was two months old.  I didn’t want him to contract the virus.  My husband’s relatives had promised to help me buy baby milk, but they didn’t live up to their word.  I suffered.  I would go and beg for money from other people, buy some little milk and mix it with lots of water so that the baby wouldn’t go hungry.  I knew it wasn’t nutritious, but I didn’t have a choice,” she explains.

“I asked a certain man to teach me how to be a tailor, and I would help him sew some clothes and get 300 shillings that I would buy half a kilo of sugar with, and ask good Samaritans for vegetables so that my children and I could get at least one meal per day.  Sometimes I didn’t eat and had to cook porridge and put salt in it because I couldn’t afford to buy sugar.  At least it helped my kids not to cry of hunger and wake up the angry neighbor,” she says.

In her pursuit for a better life, Teresia was lucky to be visited by someone she had never met before who introduced her to a savings and credit group.  Through that group called Shalom Women, she learnt many things including saving money, food production and tailoring.  She started by renting a sewing machine before she managed to have her own.

Teresia has already taken three loans of 50,000 shillings each, as well as a bonus of 160,000 shillings from the group’s first round of profits.  And you couldn’t imagine the first thing Teresia bought after receiving the loan.

“A mattress.  I bought myself and my two babies a mattress,” she says, laughing.  “The last time I slept on a mattress was in 2007 after I was kicked out of my house.  All of these years we have been sleeping on a mat – a borrowed one, actually – and our bodies had already grown used to that.  So I just had to buy a mattress,” she laughs.  The second thing that she did was have a carpenter make her a bed.  After that she opened herself a bank account and started saving even more money.

The ever-smiling Teresia is so thankful to the group for saving her and her children’s lives.  Right now she can afford to feed them, shelter them, buy them clothes and take them to school.  Her daughter is eight years old and in standard two, while her son is five years old and in nursery.  And what’s more, the child is HIV negative.

“Healthwise I am also doing fine, and I thank God that I have never really fallen sick.  I use medication as required and I am sure that I am absolutely not even close to death.  Everybody knows about my status, I do not hide it, and I teach them how to live positively.  Those who stigmatize others, I teach them that they shouldn’t do that,” she says.

From being a beggar to a brave young woman, Teresia is one hell of a lady who understands the importance of protecting your child at all cost.  She has suffered, has been ridiculed, has starved, and has been abandoned; but she never lost hope.  She knew that being a mother meant protecting your children, and thanks to the savings group, she is probably the happiest woman in Kange area.  Being HIV positive is definitely not the end of the world.

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What shanga means

By Leah H. Mwainyekule

SHANGA.  When you say this word in the Tanzanian community, heads turn, eyebrows are lifted, giggles are heard, and even laughter erupts.  Yes; beads, known in Kiswahili as shanga are a very important ingredient when it comes to sexual relationships.  They can make a relationship healthy, or break it to pieces.  They can cause trouble, or be a source of reconciliation.  They can bring up competition, or even make peace.  But to one charismatic lady, they are much more than that…to her, shanga means money.

Amina Dilolo Salehe is a simple lady.  She is fifty five years old, divorced, takes care of her grandson, and makes a living through designing and selling beads.  The beads that she makes are specifically the ones worn at the waist by women, and are believed to help spice up the relationship between the two sexes.  She is well known for her talent and has a lot of customers, but she doesn’t forget where she came from.

“Just two years ago my life was completely different.  I lived a kind of life where I wasn’t sure how my tomorrow would be.  I depended on working in other people’s farms where I could gain only 2,000 shillings per month.  It was terrible because my husband and I split twelve years ago, so I really had to work hard in order to be able to survive,” she narrates.  That was when the Worth program was introduced in Mkambarani, Morogoro region in Eastern Tanzania.

“I used to make beads, but nobody knew about me back then because it was something that I did just for fun.  When I joined the Worth group called Mshikamano, I started saving money and then took a 20,000 shilling loan,” explains Amina.

With that loan, Amina was able to purchase more beads so that she could design them fit for the ladies’ waists.  But she had to think of something that would really make the ladies crave for her beads only, and not go for the other nearest dealer.

“And that’s when I decided to come up with designs that are completely different, with sexy names.”  Names of her designs include segere, mwanamke nyonga, mugongo mugongo, utalijua jiji, msumari and ua waridi.

According to Amina, segere is a design that complements the famous dance played by the Zaramo tribe, and mwanamke nyonga is a kind of design that symbolizes the beauty of women using their waists to bring happiness.  Ua waridi is a kind of design with the shape of rose petals, and utalijua jiji is a design with beads depicted as traffic lights.  Another design, mugongo mugongo depicts the spinal cord as well as a famous dance beat where one uses their back to dance to the tunes of music, while the design called msumari has beads piercing out like tiny nails, and she shows them off while singing the famous taarab song “msumari huo unachoma; wapi moyoni, machoni? Kotekote! ” Yes, a really charismatic lady.

“Life difficulties force you to learn something different,” says Amina when explaining about how she came up with those names and designs.  “This has made me get a lot of customers lately, and right now my business has expanded to Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam, where people place orders and comepick them,” she says.  Nowadays she could make up to 15,000 shillings a day by just selling her designer beads.

But she doesn’t hesitate to pour praise to the Worth program: “I don’t know where I would have been right now, or what I would have looked like.  All I know is that right know my troubles are over. I don’t have to worry about eating anymore or working in other people’s farms.  I’m done with that now, thanks to the Worth group that taught me how to save money, and get a loan that has made me who I am today.”

And her desire is not only to make money, but also to make others happy.  “Girls here compete with each other on how many strings of beads one is wearing.  I once counted the strings on a certain girl’s waist, and they were actually fifty!” she says laughing.  But the good thing is that they make relationships stronger, and her pocket fatter.  And Worth has a lot to do with that success.

Amina is now happy, thanks to the famous designer beads that have made her a household name in the Mkambarani ward.  She is also happy that other people are happy with her designs.  The Worth group, she says, is her savior and the reason for heads turning, eyebrows lifting and laughter erupting.  Shanga is the word she loves to hear.

  

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