The morning sun spills over Potifala Village in Mchinji, painting golden light across green tomato fields. Laughter drifts through the air as women weed their gardens and men tend to goats nearby. It’s a peaceful scene — one that would have seemed impossible just a few years ago.
Back then, this village was known not for its laughter, but for its silence — the kind that follows the cries of women trapped in cycles of domestic violence. Poverty was the cruel hand behind much of it, tightening its grip on families already struggling to survive.
Among those who bore its weight was Rabecca Unyolo, a 31-year-old mother whose life once revolved around fear and survival.
“My husband would beat me simply because I couldn’t bring anything home,” she recalled quietly, her voice still edged with pain. “We would go to bed hungry, and I had no job — just small piecework. Sometimes I earned K2,000, barely enough to buy salt and maize flour. Life was unbearable.”
Between 2019 and 2020, Rabecca’s world collapsed three times — each time her husband chased her away from home, leaving her with nowhere to go. But in 2023, she made a decision that would rewrite her story.
That year, she joined the Potifala Village Group, formed through the Transform Project — a community initiative aimed at helping women escape poverty through small-scale farming and savings groups.
“At first, I was scared,” she admitted. “I thought my husband would be angry, and I didn’t believe this group could really change my life. But I told myself I had nothing left to lose.”
Her courage paid off. With a small loan from the group, Rabecca began growing tomatoes. When the first harvest came in, she sold her produce for K70,000 — the most money she had ever earned in her life.
“I used the money to buy pales, planted more tomatoes, and later made K2 million,” she said with a proud smile that seemed to light up her face. “I finished building my house and bought 28 roofing sheets. Now, I even have goats and chickens.”
But perhaps her greatest transformation has been inside her home.
“My husband couldn’t believe it,” she said, laughing softly. “He stopped beating me. In fact, he even asked to join my group too.”
Rabecca is not alone.
Just a few houses away, Catherine James is busy feeding her pigs — animals that have given her both income and independence.
“I started with two pigs at K45,000 each,” Catherine explained. “Now I have ten. I can pay my children’s school fees and take care of my family. There is peace in my home because of farming.”
These stories are becoming common in Potifala, a village of just 78 households and 240 people that has quietly rewritten its reputation.
Group Village Headman Potifala said the change is visible — not only in homes, but in the way men and women now work together.
“In my village, husbands no longer feel jealous when their wives are progressing,” he said. “Men are supporting their spouses. Families are joining village savings groups. Cases of gender-based violence have dropped. It’s a new era for us.”
Local authorities agree. Daisy Kosi, the Gender Officer for Mchinji District Council, said police data show a notable decline in gender-based violence.
“As of this month, we’ve recorded 402 cases compared to 438 during the same period last year,” she said. “That might sound like small progress, but behind those numbers are real women whose lives are safer.”
Part of the progress, she added, comes from community-driven action. Male champions and gender advocates have been trained to speak out against abuse, helping to change attitudes one conversation at a time.
Recently, officials from the Ministry of Gender visited the district to promote women’s political participation — another sign that gender equality efforts are expanding beyond homes and farms into leadership spaces.
Experts say that while challenges remain, economic empowerment remains one of the strongest weapons against gender-based violence. When women earn an income, they gain a voice — and a way out.
“The fight against GBV is not over,” Kosi admitted. “But the signs are promising. When women have their own money, their confidence grows, and so does peace in their homes.”
Back in Potifala, Rabecca walks through her tomato field, her hands brushing the leaves gently. Each plant tells part of her story — of pain endured, of courage reclaimed, and of the freedom that comes with standing tall.
“I never thought I would be this happy,” she said. “Now my home is full of laughter. I can provide for my children. I am no longer afraid.”
From bruises to blossoms, the women of Mchinji are proving that when you give a woman the tools to stand on her own, she will grow — and take her community with her.
