Story contributed by Myna, Community Worker
Ayu* is a single mother working toward the day when all three of her children can live under the same roof again. Due to financial strain, two of them are currently in the care of her aunt while Ayu focuses on rebuilding her stability. Recently, she left a job where she had endured months of bullying. The emotional and financial toll was heavy, but she was grateful to walk away from a place that had worn down her confidence.
Since then, she’s been searching for work with one simple hope: a kind environment. But even that has felt out of reach. Her past experiences have made it hard to trust others, and she’s grown increasingly withdrawn, even from those living just doors away.
So when she agreed to attend a community event, it felt like a big step. She stayed on the sidelines, where she felt most comfortable, until she recognised a former classmate from years ago. Her old friend was warm and chatty and their reunion flowed naturally. For the first time in a long while, Ayu allowed herself to feel part of something.
During my next visit, she opened up more. She told me she made frozen samosas at home and sold them to a small circle of friends and relatives, never daring to go beyond. “I’m too shy to promote them,” she said. But when she showed me a bag from a recently cancelled order, I saw the care in how they were folded, the generosity of the fillings, and I couldn’t resist buying them over.
It only hit me later that I had a community programme that evening and no fridge in sight. When I arrived, I asked Wida*, our Neighbourhood Leader, if she could fry a few for the children and attendees. “Of course can!” she said, laughing. “The children will pay more attention when they’re well-fed!”
We served half of them there and then, and I passed the rest to Wida to take home to her family.
A few days later, I received a text from another resident: “Can I have Ayu’s contact?” she asked. “The samosas were so good. I want to order more.” I was surprised. She hadn’t been at the programme. It turned out Wida had shared the remaining samosas with her neighbours, speaking warmly about the love and care that went into each one.
When the orders started coming in, Ayu was taken aback, in the best way. She told me she hadn’t expected anything from that one cancelled order. The extra income helped with her expenses, but what meant more was that someone had gone out of their way to support her.
She had grown used to managing things on her own. To be on the receiving end of something freely given reminded her that people do care.
Through these orders, Ayu has connected with neighbours she might never have spoken to before. She’s taking more steps outside her comfort zone. “At least now,” she said, “I know who I can talk to if I need help.”
Ayu is still searching for long-term employment, and Beyond continues to support her on that journey. But for now, she’s growing something of her own – one samosa, one order, one neighbour at a time.
This is the kind of work that happens when relationships grow over time. It’s not immediate, and it’s not always visible. But it matters because when someone starts to feel seen, supported, and part of something. That’s when change takes root.
If this story stayed with you, we invite you to support our work in walking with individuals and communities we serve.