“I Am Able, So I Am Able-Bodied”
USAID program helps women with disabilities in Uganda to succeed
Near the start of its long journey north from Lake Victoria, the Nile River forms the western border of Uganda’s Kamuli district. The district is blanketed by small farms and dotted with small homes and quiet villages. On the edge of one of these villages a half-dozen sewing machines clatter away in a tree-shaded courtyard. It is here that Musogah Dinah Christine teaches a group of physically disabled women to sew.
“People think that because we are physically disabled, we are mentally disabled, too. But we will prove them wrong,” says Dinah, who like many Ugandans places her surname before her given name. “One day they will be the ones to teach the able-bodied.”
Dinah works with Agriculture for Women with Disabilities, a USAID-funded activity implemented in cooperation with Send a Cow Uganda. In rural Uganda, as in many places around the world, people with disabilities face incredible difficulties, ranging from the absence of qualified treatment to challenges with accessibility, stigma, and rejection, leading to low self-esteem and economic insecurity. These issues are only compounded when the people with disabilities are women.
The USAID activity provides skills-training to small groups of women in Kamuli district. “At first, we were not perfect,” Konso Suzan explains with a shy but confident smile, “but we were learning.”
Sewing is but one component of the training. The women are also learning how to improve their farms to increase food security, a necessity as extreme weather becomes increasingly common in this area.
In August 2018, this group began to offer tailoring services to the community. Tailoring still provides the base of their income, but they are quickly moving beyond alterations. Group members have formed a cooperative and begun a clothing line, designing and manufacturing practical but attractive outfits — including casual wear, dresses, school uniforms, and toddler clothes — for sale at markets in and around their village.
Sales have been brisk. They have already expanded their line to include accessories such as handbags, and are eyeing markets farther away. The women have also formed a savings association, and with the proceeds from their sales have purchased more supplies and invested in livestock.
Most satisfyingly for Dinah, though, the original seven members of the group have stayed around to teach a new cohort of students, including schoolgirls who come after school and on weekends to learn a trade.
“If someone gives you knowledge,” she says as her students and colleagues look on, “it is better than if they give you money.”
The sentiment is echoed by women across the district who have formed more than 100 such cooperatives.
Nambi Edisa, a member of a cooperative in another village down the road, says, “I am able. So I am able-bodied.”
Sixteen-year-old Kyakuwaire Viola holds up her latest designs. “On a bad week I make 15,000 shillings. But on a good day I can make 25,000 shillings [about $7].” Although she has a business her peers envy, Viola worries about her prospects for happiness given her disabilities.
Nangobi Prossy reassures her with her own story. She tells how she and her husband met and fell in love, but then suffered from discrimination when they married years ago. “My in-laws threatened to beat me, they mocked him. But I am strong, and I am able. My money is mine, and my husband supports me,” she explained.
In the crowd gathered around them, her husband stands and cheers for her, and their two young children clap along with him.
The activity began in October 2016 with a goal of improving the livelihoods of 1,500 households by promoting income-generating activities and sustainable climate-smart agriculture, encouraging savings, and empowering women to advocate for their own rights. By spring 2019, it boasted a phenomenal 100 percent success rate. Each woman earns income from her trade; their collective savings have grown by more than 600 percent; and the women host a popular radio show.
“Before [this activity,] my thinking was so backward,” Eron Namwebya says emphatically. “We’d see these vehicles coming on the road and run away. I thought I had no worth, that I was nothing. I knew I could produce children, but I didn’t know that I was a human being.”
She pauses to let that sink in, reminding herself of the person she once was: “Now, I am empowered. I make cakes. And I am a teacher, I teach baking.”
Asked for samples, she laughs and says her visitors were late to the meeting, “so my friends bought them all from me while we waited!”
Asked about how the activity has affected her, she reflects and says with a hard-earned pride, “Every day I find something new inside of me.”
About the Author
Hector Gonzalez is a communications specialist at USAID’s mission in Uganda.
