What I did that led me to importing bales from Turkey

As I grew up, I often felt like I was not the daughter my family could take pride in. As my siblings thrived in their academic pursuits, graduated, and landed lucrative white-collar positions, I often felt like the outsider. I made an effort, yet books never seemed to be on my side. Whenever I failed an exam, my father would gaze at me with disappointment and whisper words that linger painfully in my memory: “You’re a disgrace…” You will never achieve anything of significance.

During family gatherings, my cousins would boast about their careers—doctors, bankers, engineers—while I remained quiet, gazing at my tattered shoes, questioning my place within the family. My father seldom introduced me to his friends. I sensed it in his gaze: shame. I was the outlier. After secondary school, while my siblings ventured abroad or secured internships in prestigious offices, I found myself at home, surrounded only by rejection letters. That was the moment I began selling mitumba clothes at Gikomba. To read more click here.