When Janet asked for a job at a clean cookstove factory in Kenya, she became the first woman stove mason—and sparked a ripple of change.
Down a dirt road and around a few narrow turns in Siaya, Kenya, sits the Mukuru Clean Stoves workshop. Shielded behind a tall gate, the modest warehouse hums with life—metal clanging, clay thudding, voices in focused rhythm.
Janet didn’t come looking for work that day.
She came for a stove.
At home, her two daughters—ages seven and ten—were waiting. Her husband was out of work. She was scraping by—washing clothes for neighbors, borrowing groceries on credit. Doing everything she could to keep going. To find a way forward.
Charcoal is expensive. And cooking over an open fire burns through fuel fast. A clean cookstove uses half as much charcoal—saving precious shillings every single day.
What makes Mukuru Clean Stoves different is the materials: they use recycled metal. That keeps production costs low, and the savings are passed on to customers—making the stoves affordable for families living in extreme poverty.
As Janet waited for her order, she watched.
Men in bright yellow hard hats hammered metal. Women shaped clay. Each stove was painted matte black and hand-painted with Mukuru’s green flame logo. Stacked in tidy rows, they were headed to market, to be sold by women entrepreneurs.
Together, those women have sold hundreds of thousands of stoves in the last few years—each one a mother’s moment to exhale.
But they’re only just getting started.
Millions still need clean cookstoves. Across Africa, 4 in 5 people are exposed to toxic smoke from cooking over open fires. And it's deadly.
According to the World Health Organization, household air pollution causes more than 3.2 million deaths every year—making it one of the leading killers of women and children. They spend hours each day breathing smoke equivalent to multiple packs of cigarettes.
The environmental toll is staggering, too. In Kenya alone, charcoal production is a major driver of deforestation and carbon emissions. Globally, more than half of all trees cut down are used for firewood or charcoal.
Clean cookstoves are a small intervention with outsized impact.
They burn more efficiently. Use less wood. Release less smoke.
They reduce respiratory illness, lower household fuel costs by up to 30%, and help preserve forests.
And when they’re built locally, they create jobs in the very communities they aim to serve.
Janet stood watching the factory floor.
Then she shook off her nerves and asked a quiet, brave question:
“Can I be a mason?”
There had never been a female stove mason on the team.
It’s the most labor-intensive job in the workshop—and the highest paid.
But when the trainer, Yuniah, saw Janet—tired, hopeful, steady-eyed—she saw something familiar.
“She looked like a mom,” Yuniah said. “And I’m a mom. I know how far we’ll go for our children.”
So Mukuru had a meeting. And gave Janet a shot.
Her first month was a training period. The work was tough—but the men made space. They taught her. Encouraged her. Treated her like a teammate.
“At first, I didn’t think I could do it,” Janet said. “But I had to. People were depending on me.”
When it came time to choose a hard hat, Janet looked at the men in yellow.
And she chose red.
By the end of the month, she was making stoves. With her first paycheck, she paid back every grocery tab, cleared her daughters’ school fees, and finally took a deep breath.
Since then, she’s bought furniture for her home. She’s helping construct a house for her mother. And next, she’ll build one for herself.
Then Irene showed up.
She had also come to buy a stove. Three children at home. No income of her own. But then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye:
A woman in a red hat.
“That lady can do it,” she thought. “Why can’t I?”
And soon, Irene became the second female stove mason.
She used her first paycheck to buy her children new school bags. She joined a women’s savings group and used her first payout to buy a cow—her first real asset.
I’ve thought a lot about these two women since meeting them this fall.
Their grit. Their growth. And the environment that allowed it.
You helped make that possible.
Real change doesn’t come from one person stepping forward alone.
It comes from everyone else choosing to take a small step with them.
While Janet and Irene continue working in the original factory in Siaya, your support has helped launch a new one in Homa Bay, Kenya.
Today, 87 women are employed.
But there’s room—and urgent need—for more.
We hope to hire 30 more women this month.
It costs just $100/month—or $1,200/year to train and employ a stove mason like Janet or Irene.
Your gift funds the salary of a local trainer, the tools, the materials, the uniforms—and of course, the hard hats.
In the first year, she'll produce approximately 1,500 stoves for families in need. And spare the air of 1,500 tons of carbon, while saving 9,000 trees from being cut down for fuel.
And when you give, we’ll connect you directly to a woman you’ve helped hire.
It’s a personal, transparent way to see the impact of your gift unfold.
Learn more here: https://www.theadventureproject.org/create-a-job
On a factory floor in rural Kenya, yellow and red hard hats move in quiet rhythm.
One color grounded in what’s always been.
The other, blazing forward into what could be.
The future doesn’t belong to one or the other.
It belongs to what we build together.
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