When Threads Began to Meet

Years passed after that first visit. Life moved forward in practical ways—training, clinics, long days caring for children’s bodies and their immediate needs. Medicine gave me structure, language, and responsibility. It taught me how to listen closely, how to notice what is said and what is left unsaid.

And yet, something remained unresolved.

I began to see more clearly that health does not exist in isolation. A child’s well-being is shaped not only by their physical body, but by their environment, their sense of safety, their opportunities for play, expression, and dignity. I realised that while I was caring for children in one way, I was still searching for ways to advocate for their lives more fully.

At the same time, my lifelong pull toward textiles, craft, and beauty never faded. Slowly, the distance between these worlds began to narrow. I started to see fashion not as excess, but as a language—one that could carry story, honour skilled hands, and support livelihoods when practiced with care.

Manna began to take shape there, in the space between medicine and making. Not as a solution, but as a question: what might it look like to bring care, creativity, and dignity into conversation with one another—and allow something new to grow from that meeting point?