In the bustling Kyaka II Refugee Settlement in western Uganda, the rhythmic clinking of metal against metal provides a new soundtrack for a generation of women redefining their destinies. Among them is Elina Iraguha, a mother who approaches her daily lessons with a sense of purpose that extends far beyond the workshop floor. When her five-year-old daughter asks where she goes every morning, Elina’s answer is a proud declaration of shared journey. “I tell my daughter I’m in school, too. I’m learning, too,” she says, her eyes bright with the realization that she is modeling a future where gender no longer dictates a person’s professional boundaries.
For Iraguha, the choice to pursue motor vehicle mechanics—a field traditionally and fiercely dominated by men—was not a matter of convenience, but a calculated act of defiance and a search for stability. Born in Rwanda but raised in Kyaka II since she was an infant, she has spent nearly her entire life within the confines of a refugee settlement. For her, the grease under her fingernails is a badge of honor. “I chose mechanics because I want to earn a living and show that women can succeed in any field,” she explains. Her story is not just one of personal ambition; it is a testament to a broader movement of economic empowerment taking root in one of the most vulnerable regions of East Africa.
Uganda currently hosts one of the largest refugee populations in the world, with over 1.5 million displaced persons living within its borders, primarily fleeing conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), South Sudan, and Rwanda. While the country is praised for its progressive “self-reliance” model, which allows refugees to work and move freely, the reality on the ground is often hampered by a lack of marketable skills and limited educational opportunities. This is where the UN Women’s “Second Chance Education” intervention steps in. In collaboration with Peace Winds Japan and with generous funding from the Government of Japan, the program targets women in refugee settlements and host communities, offering them a pathway to vocational mastery that was previously out of reach.
The initiative is grounded in the understanding that education and economic empowerment are the twin pillars of peace and security. When women are equipped with sustainable livelihoods, they are less vulnerable to exploitation, and the households they head become more resilient. This stability filters upward, promoting harmony within the settlement and reducing the local conflicts that often arise from scarcity and desperation. As these women gain independence, the ripple effects are immediate: they reinvest their earnings into their families, pay for their siblings’ school fees, and eventually establish businesses that become hubs of employment for others.
Among the cohort of future mechanics is Ange Shokano, who arrived at Kyaka II in 2019. Her journey to Uganda was born of necessity and survival; her family fled their village in the DRC to escape the relentless violence of armed rebel groups. As the second-born of seven children, the weight of family responsibility has always been present for Shokano. Two years ago, that weight became a barrier when her family could no longer afford the tuition fees required for her to continue her formal education.
“My mother was the first person to encourage me to join the mechanics programme,” Shokano recalls. Her mother’s advice was rooted in a pragmatic kind of love: “She said, ‘I don’t have money to keep you in school, but you can go for this training, and this will help you sustain yourself.’” It was a pivot from traditional academics to technical skill-building, a move that has given Shokano a renewed sense of agency.
For Iraguha, the fascination with automobiles dates back to her childhood, though it was a passion she rarely saw reflected in the world around her. “I used to only see men working as mechanics,” she says, reflecting on the absurdity of the gender divide. “How come women can drive—but not repair? I said, ‘What is this!’” she jokes. Her humor masks a deep-seated desire to dismantle the stereotypes that keep women on the sidelines of the technical economy. “I expect a lot from this course,” she adds. “I see people with their own businesses because of these skills. My dream is to own my own workshop.”
However, the road to the workshop is paved with more than just technical challenges; it requires navigating a complex social landscape. On her first day, Shokano admits she was plagued by the same doubts that the community often projects onto women. “I was worried about the energy and strength it would take,” she says. The physical nature of the work—lifting heavy components and wrestling with rusted bolts—can be intimidating. But she soon experienced a mental shift that changed everything. “Then I realized, ‘It’s you that poisons your mind. I can do anything.’”
This internal battle is often mirrored by external skepticism. Iraguha recalls the resistance she faced from her own father when she first announced her career path. “When I told my dad that I applied for the mechanics training, he said, ‘That job is for men! Leave that job for your brothers!’” It is a common refrain in many traditional households where labor is strictly gendered. Iraguha’s response was one of quiet persistence: “I told him, ‘No, I can do it. Just allow me to try and you’ll see.’”
The proof, as they say, was in the performance. Once her father witnessed her skillfully navigating complex engine repairs and diagnosing mechanical failures, his skepticism turned to pride. “Once he started to see how well I was managing all the repairs, he was so impressed!” she says. Yet, Iraguha is under no illusions about the broader community’s perception. She knows that some view “tough” women with suspicion or even fear. “They say women who do ‘men’s work’ are tough. Many fear them!” she laughs. But her focus remains unshakable. “It is about my own motivation, my will, and what I want to get in life that will push me forward.”
The curriculum is intensive, designed to take students from novices to certified professionals in just six months. After only one month of training, Shokano and Iraguha have already mastered the fundamentals of tire repair and braking systems. The program doesn’t just stop at instruction; upon graduation, the newly minted mechanics are provided with comprehensive “starter kits.” These kits contain the essential tools needed to launch their own enterprises or secure employment in established garages, ensuring that their education translates directly into a paycheck.
The long-term visions of these women are expansive. They aren’t just looking for jobs; they are looking to build institutions. “My dream in 10 years is to have my own workshop where I can repair people’s cars and train others in the community,” Iraguha says, her voice rising with excitement. She envisions a facility large enough to accommodate 50 learners at a time, with a specific focus on recruiting women. “Many women overlook this job because they think it is only for men. And yet it is just a skill. Anyone can learn it.”
Shokano shares this communal spirit. She hopes to form a collective garage with her fellow female classmates, creating a supportive environment where they can continue to sharpen their skills while building a brand known for quality and reliability. Her message to other women in the settlement is one of self-prioritization: “It’s important for women to focus on themselves. Learn mechanics or hairdressing—whatever skills you need to sustain yourself.”
As the global community reflects on the importance of education, the stories of Shokano and Iraguha serve as a powerful reminder that learning is the ultimate catalyst for gender equality. It provides the “key,” as Shokano puts it, to doors that were previously bolted shut by poverty, displacement, and patriarchal norms. In the grease-stained workshops of Kyaka II, education is being redefined. It is no longer just about what is found in textbooks; it is about the “jack” that allows a woman to lift a vehicle, and in doing so, lift her entire community. By the time these women earn their certificates, they will be more than just mechanics; they will be the architects of a more stable, equitable, and prosperous future.
“Once I changed my attitude, I realized I could do anything,” Shokano says, summarizing the philosophy that now guides her life. “Changing a tyre doesn’t require big muscles—it requires a jack.” In the end, these women are proving that with the right tools and the opportunity to use them, there is no engine they cannot fix and no barrier they cannot break.
