By local correspondent

The scorching midday sun bakes the dusty streets of Chad’s cities as women navigate the throng, balancing precarious loads on their heads or shoulders. Baskets overflowing with fresh mangoes, trays of sizzling doughnuts, and vibrant patterned fabrics draw the eye. Their voices rise above the clamor—calling out prices, dodging motorbikes and pedestrians alike. In N’Djamena, Moundou, and Abéché, this scene has become a daily reality, a testament to women’s growing presence in the informal economy.

Aïcha, in her early thirties, shuffles forward with her younger child strapped to her back. She has sold roasted peanuts since dawn, her gaze fixed on potential buyers. “It’s hard work,” she admits, “but at least now I’m the one in charge.” Nearby, Fanta tends to her frying pan, her five-year-old son playing unattended with a scrap of plastic in the dirt. These women, once confined to household chores, now command the streets, negotiating prices, carrying goods, and carving out independence on the asphalt.

Yet, amidst this hustle lies a quieter struggle. Children accompany their mothers, coughing in the acrid smoke of charcoal grills, dozing off under the weight of heavy bags, or begging for shade. In Abéché, a local resident recounted witnessing a seven-year-old hauling a bucket of water, shouting for spare change while his mother haggled over a kilo of millet. Schoolbooks have been replaced by cardboard boxes and plastic buckets for many. Is this the unseen cost of women’s economic empowerment?

The streets of Chad tell two stories. One of resilience and newfound freedom for women, the other of lost childhoods for the youngest. As vendors rise, children stumble in their shadow. What future lies ahead for them in this relentless cycle of survival?