One day, when I was living in Eastern Congo, I looked out my kitchen window and saw my neighbor, a sixty year old woman, carrying rocks on her head. It may seem like a simple image but it was one that I couldn't get out of my head. This gray-haired woman was carrying these large. heavy rocks to a construction site, where she was be paid less than a dollar. For a days work. Less than a dollar, for offering herself as a human wheelbarrow. That was the moment I understood how desperately people want to work, to earn a living. I understood why everyday when I would leave my house in Congo, the first thing people would ask for, wasn't money and wasn't food. It was a job. A few months later, I met 4 young women, disabled by polio and displaced by war. And I realized that for them it was even more impossible to find work. For them, even carrying rocks was out of their reach. These determined young women, on crutches and metal leg braces, with no education and no money, had left their rural homes in search of a better life. They had learned to sew. To create beauty. But they were being taken advantage of, paid for a fraction of their work. Because what other choice did they have?