When she was 16, Gladys Adjimer went through the traditional ritual of Dipo, where girls don ceremonial dress and beads, and dance and eat nothing but water and yam for up to four days as part of their initiation into Krobo womanhood.

This may have marked the beginning of her love of beadwork, cosmetics and jewelry.

Comfort Amanor is a single mother of four who dreams of one day opening a school to teach underprivileged children the art of beadmaking.

With her courage and determination, she might one day realise that challenging goal.

CK was born in Rwanda, the first child of her mother's second husband. But when she was still very young, her father ran out on them, and they moved around, living with different relatives.

Then came 1994, and the genocide.

...To my mom!

"No My Lord! I don’t recognise this women and I have never seen these three children..."

Today, at the age of 37, whenever I imagine a woman in her late twenties with her three sons of six, nine and 14 years, in front of a man in witness box uttering the above line, I feel ashamed to realise that it was my Father! And I was the youngest one at the time!

I’ve occupied myself doing lots of ‘stuff’ in my grown-up life.

I flirted with the broadcasting industry, as ‘on air’ talent and behind the scenes control freak.  I worked as a waitress, bartender, restaurant manager, cook and dishwasher. Sometimes all in the same day.

I knocked around the communications industry – graphic design, advertising and marketing – until it didn't like me very much, and I liked it even less.

I never expected to be running a website that helps thousands of people to transform their lives every day.

Sometimes it astounds me when I recall that seven years ago I weighed nearly 300 lbs, was always ill, lonely, and miserable, even though I pretended to be happy.

Today, I weigh less than half that (138lbs). I’m happy, healthy and feel so truly on my life path. It’s like I’m living a different life, and I am SO grateful.

They were trying to save her life.

That’s why the attending medical staff had ushered me away from my mother’s bedside, leaving me to stand alone in the middle of the hospital corridor.

I felt as if an invisible umbilical cord was being shredded. It was quite strange. Although I was an adult, I became aware that there was something quite powerful that connected us, and I sensed it being pulled away from the center of my body – I could feel it, in physical way.

The doctors asked what I wished them to do – resuscitate? Use a ventilator? Let her go? I was at the center of what felt like an approaching storm – one I knew I could not avoid.

It was then that I saw her coming toward me with open arms; and when I did, I knew in an instant that this was no ordinary moment…

Last year, at this time, I had NO IDEA that I had bilateral breast cancer.

On a dare from my sister, I decided to have my first mammogram at age 41. I was slated for an October appointment, but a pressing matter in my quest for my Masters degree arose, and I chose to rebook.

The next available opening was in December - so I booked it.

When the genocide in Rwanda began in 1994, Mama Zula was a 79-year-old grandmother who, up until then, had led a relatively unremarkable life.

By the end of the nation-wide massacre, she was a hero.