The Story Behind Imbali Studio

Imbali Studio is more than a weaving space—it is a story of purpose, memory, resilience, creativity, and community.

The name Imbali comes from the Zulu language and means “a flower” and “to blossom.” It is a beautiful and common girls’ name, and it carries deep personal meaning for me.

In the year 2000, I had the privilege of living and working among Zulu women and children in a squatter camp in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. By God’s grace, I spent a year there, living in a single-room home that served as my kitchen, bedroom, living room, and bathroom. That season shaped me deeply—it taught me humility, gratitude, and compassion, and gave me a profound appreciation for what I had.

I lived among single mothers raising children in extreme poverty, women doing their best to survive and nurture their families under very difficult circumstances. Behind my small shanty, as I used to call it then, lived an elderly woman raising her six-year-old granddaughter named Mbali. I never learned what happened to Mbali’s mother, nor did the grandmother seem to receive any support. Yet, like so many African grandmothers, she carried the heavy responsibility of raising her grandchild with strength and quiet love.

The name Imbali comes from the Zulu language and means “a flower” and “to blossom.”

My heart was drawn to Mbali. I began supporting her grandmother with basic needs, and over time we formed a bond. Mbali became like my own child—vulnerable, precious, and in need of protection in a complex and spiritually different environment. Around the same time, I gathered women in the community and taught them sewing—helping them build skills while also creating a safe space for encouragement, connection, and hope.

A few months later, my heart was shattered when I learned that Mbali had been sexually abused by an older man in the area. At the time, harmful myths about HIV led to tragic and dangerous behaviors. I walked closely with Mbali through medical care and the legal process, praying fiercely for her safety. I was deeply grateful when her test results came back HIV-negative. For her protection, Mbali was eventually moved to live with another relative in a safer environment—and I never saw her again.

Losing contact with her was painful, but I knew it was the right decision for her future.

When I reflect on my life today, I see Mbali as one of the threads in the tapestry of my journey—a thread that began, was cut short, yet remains visible in the story God continues to weave. She represents many women and girls whose lives have intersected with mine across Africa, Central Asia, South America, North America, and Europe—women whose stories of pain, resilience, growth, and transformation have shaped my own.

Over the years, I have watched women blossom—from shame to confidence, from fear to courage, from silence to purpose. Mbali is one flower in this bouquet of life, and I am grateful she is part of my story.

Her story reminds me of countless women and girls whose innocence has been stolen, whose dreams have been crushed, and who were never given space to imagine a future beyond what life handed them. Many of the stories I have shared in posts belong to these women—stories that form part of the tapestry of my own journey.

Imbali Studio carries their legacy. It stands as a space where people can grow, create, heal, and blossom. A place where stories are honored, skills are nurtured, and dignity is restored. A place where threads become fabric—and lives become testimony.

Imbali means flower and every flower deserves the chance to bloom.