By midmorning in Manyatta Father village, Merti, the rhythm of Amina Ali’s sewing machine carries well beyond her doorway. It is a steady, rhythmic turning of the wheel, a sound that once intimidated her, but now answers to her hands.
Amina finished Form Four in 2014, but for a girl from a modest household in Cherab Conservancy, the end of school didn’t mean a beginning. It meant waiting. Tertiary education required fees, that were a mountain her parents couldn’t climb, and by 2015, she was married and stepped into the routines of domestic life – a housewife, caring for her home.
Tailoring had always intrigued her. She always found herself watching the local fundis. She would see them lean into their sewing machines, feet pressing the pedals to create a rocking motion, and the forward and backward movement of the needle on the material – that looked effortless. To Amina, it seemed like a mystery, something complicated and heavy with technical secrets. But that difficulty was exactly why she wanted it. She figured if something looked that hard to master, it must be valuable.
When Ujuzi Manyattani brought training to the village, through the support of ICEP, Amina didn’t hesitate. She chose the tailoring course because she knew the needs of her community weren’t seasonal. Children grow, school terms start, and weddings are always being planned. Fabric is always bought, and it always needs a pair of skilled hands to shape it.
She graduated in 2024, not just with a certificate, but with a startup toolkit that translated theory into immediate practice. For Amina, it felt like being released into a whole new economy—one where her own labour finally had a price, and her time could be converted into income.
Amina earns between KES 500 and 2,000 for regular garments and repairs. When schools are about to open, uniforms dominate her order book, with a dress going for KES 450 and a shirt for KES 350. During a recent order from a local school, she was chosen as one of the trusted tailors to handle the uniforms—a small but proud recognition that she is someone the village can rely on. Women form her largest clientele. She stitches dera dresses and hijabs, dominant garments that require precision.
This is a bounce back she’s proud of. In March 2025, just as she was setting up, Amina fell ill. Recovery was a slow road, and when she finally stood back up, she had to rebuild her clientele almost from scratch. But today, the change in her life is undeniable. She isn’t where she was before the training. Her income from tailoring now supplements her husband’s, helping cover food and household needs, and she even sends pocket money to her younger brother in college and helps their parents pay his school fees whenever she can.
In such regions vulnerable to drought and climate shocks, such skills matter. Service-based trades like tailoring provide an alternative stream that is less dependent on rainfall. The sewing machine becomes, in a sense, a climate-resilient infrastructure.
Today, Amina is already passing on what she knows, teaching the basics of repair to a new learner. It’s her way of making sure the skill stays alive. She hopes to one day train formally and become a teacher herself, but for now, she measures her progress in the small, real things: a uniform finished on time, a garment that fits perfectly, and a bit of money set aside at the end of the week.