Emily

Emily opens the shop at 7:00 AM, pulling back the heavy wooden shutters and arranging the goods on the shelves. The first customers are usually mothers buying sugar or salt for the morning meal, and schoolchildren picking up exercise books on their way to class.

By mid-morning the shop settles into a rhythm. Emily sits behind the counter, greeting people who pass by, selling phone credit in small denominations, and keeping track of what needs restocking. She writes everything in a notebook — who bought what, who owes her, what she needs to order from Butogota.

The fresh produce is the hardest part of the business. Tomatoes, onions, and leafy greens arrive from local farmers, but they have to sell within a day or two. If a slow week comes — and in Buhoma, slow weeks are common — Emily watches her stock wilt and calculates the loss. She has learned to buy small quantities and accept that some waste is unavoidable.

In the afternoon, she sometimes closes the shop briefly to check on the girl, prepare food, or walk to a neighbor who needs something. The village is small enough that the shop is also a meeting point — people come to talk, to hear the latest news, to charge their phones if the power is on.

At 7:00 PM Emily closes the shutters, counts the day's earnings, and walks home. Some days are good — she sells through her stock and has cash to reorder. Other days are thin, and she eats rice and beans knowing that tomorrow might be better. Her husband calls from Kampala when the network allows it.