FBMI began in 2010 with a simple idea: to bring real, practical support to Afghan women, children, and their communities — support that could genuinely change lives.

They work directly on the ground, giving women steady jobs in traditional hand-knotted carpet weaving so they can earn an income while working from home. Their children receive access to schooling, and families get full medical support. The initiative is also part of the national fight against polio, delivering vaccinations to some of the hardest-to-reach areas.

And their work now goes beyond Afghanistan. In Tanzania, FBMI supports local farmers and helps fight malnutrition by creating jobs in cashew processing and donating meals with every product sold.

We spoke with FBMI’s CEO, Maywand Jabarkhyl, about the impact of this work — the lives it has changed, the challenges behind it, and the stories that continue to drive the initiative forward.

— Maywand, I am genuinely fascinated by the work of FBMI. My first question is: how did it all start for you?

— I am originally from Afghanistan, but my parents left in the 80s, and I was born and raised in the UK. I grew up as a refugee, so everything you hear today about struggle and migration really resonates with me.

When I went back to Afghanistan in 2004, it was clear that many of the challenges there weren’t sustainable — especially the way aid was being spent. That is one of the reasons USAID eventually shut down. I recently met a friend from UNICEF, and he told me they had to let go of 4,000 staff because of that closure. UNHCR had to cut even more. That level of aid dependency simply isn’t sustainable.

We always had this idea to create something more lasting. During a conference on Afghanistan, I ended up in a conversation with some people about what could be done, particularly for women, in a sustainable way. Unfortunately, for the past 50 years, women’s rights in Afghanistan have been severely limited; it is a deeply patriarchal society. Out of that discussion came the idea of treating aid as investment — something that empowers, not just provides.

We developed a model that supports women working in handmade carpet weaving, while giving them a full package of benefits: healthcare, education, fair salaries. It started as an investment, not a charity, and that mindset shaped everything.

And from that conversation back in 2010, we have grown steadily for 15 years. It all began almost accidentally, but it turned into something real and lasting.

— You have helped thousands of women! Maybe you can share a story of any of them?

— One story that really resonates with me is about a disabled woman who joined us as a wool spinner. Over time, we brought her to the UAE several times for exhibitions, capacity-building, training, and marketing events. What amazed us was how she grew — from a wool spinner to a carpet weaver, and eventually she became a senator in the previous Afghan government.

To think that a woman with disabilities could rise to parliament in a country of 40 million people — it is extraordinary. It is one of our proudest achievements.

The thing that always stands out is this: when we ask our employees what they do with their salaries, about 80–90% give the same answer. They pay for their brothers’ and sisters’ education. Their dream is to send their younger siblings to school. That sense of responsibility, that vision for their families, is what drives them, especially in a country like Afghanistan.

We have touched countless lives. Many of the people we trained are now abroad. I recently spoke to a colleague who originally joined us as a secretary — a young guy named Ahmed. We brought him to the UAE, trained him, and he became a deputy general manager. Today, he is in the U.S., working at Capital One, with a family and kids. Seeing that kind of progress is incredibly rewarding.

— Of course, there are many challenges in this kind of work. What have been yours? And what are the challenges you are facing now?

— Since we work directly with communities, we have been lucky not to face many challenges. When you create jobs rather than offer charity, you build trust — in Afghanistan, in Tanzania, everywhere. People want dignity and the ability to earn a living.

By helping communities produce high-quality products and access global markets, we have earned strong local support, including from those in power. In many ways, our work complements the government’s goals, which is why we haven’t faced major obstacles.

Even during the 2021 transition, our operations barely stopped. Women working from home continued uninterrupted, and those working in our centres returned after only four days. Despite the turmoil, they felt safe and supported.

A big part of our resilience comes from communities speaking on our behalf. Word travels from families to local leaders and up to the highest levels. When people see that our intentions are genuine, doors open.

Our main challenges are economic — Afghanistan is landlocked, border closures force us to use expensive air freight, and currency fluctuations affect costs. But culturally and politically, we have been able to navigate things well because communities stand with us.

— You recently expanded into Tanzania with a project called Hunger, which focuses on supporting local farmers and tackling malnutrition. Could you tell me more about it?

— Today, we have five different social enterprises. When we started in 2010, we had only one — Zuleya. In 2020, we launched Mira Farms, which supports Afghan farmers. After that, we kept expanding with Diplomacy Lab, and this year we launched Hunger.

A lot of our growth is driven by market demand — essentially by sales. For example, last year a customer asked us if we could source cashew nuts. Since we already had Mira, they assumed we could do it. And technically, we could have just gone to big producers like India or Vietnam. But the impact there wouldn’t be meaningful. So we asked ourselves: where could we create real impact?

Through research, we found that Tanzania is among the top 10 global producers of cashew nuts, yet it faces the same challenge many developing countries face: the raw product is exported, but the value-added processing happens elsewhere. International buyers purchase raw cashews, ship them to places like India and Vietnam, and process them there. Tanzania loses the economic and social benefits.

So Tanzania made sense — not just for impact, but also commercially. Cashews grow there in the off-season, which gives us a supply advantage. The proximity is good. And we were able to acquire a beautiful farm in the south, near the Mozambique border. Our processing facility now supports between 250 and 500 women, depending on the season.

The bigger purpose behind Hunger was to combat malnutrition. Every time someone buys our product, we donate a meal to support nutrition programs. So the model is completely market-driven but impact-focused.

— That is so great! So, moving on to Abu Dhabi Art this year, BFMI showcased many works at the fair. Could you please tell me about the artists you collaborated with?

— This year, Abu Dhabi Art is actually our biggest participation to date. We decided to collaborate not only with emerging artists, but also with very established names. One of them is Abdul Qadr Al-Rais. His artworks are highly valued and widely collected by patrons here.

We also collaborated with emerging designers. Khalifa Ahmed, a young Emirati designer who has previously exhibited in France, created a beautiful artwork for us. Then, Christopher Joshua Benson, who is pushing the boundaries of traditional art. He developed a collection with copper embedded into the weave. So now the women in Afghanistan are weaving not just wool, silk, and cotton, but copper as well. We are constantly testing new materials and new approaches.

— You also presented the Weaving Majlis performance there. Why did you decide to include it in your participation?

— Oh yes. We wanted to introduce a new heritage to the United Arab Emirates. The UAE is already extraordinary at preserving its own heritage, but now we are bringing something entirely new.

For the first time ever in the GCC, handmade carpets were woven in the UAE. Many Emirati artisans — especially women — already have deep expertise in saddu weaving, which is an important part of the UAE’s intangible cultural heritage. Expanding that knowledge into handmade carpet weaving felt like a natural next step. And with skilled Afghan women training them, they truly excelled.

This was something completely new: not only preserving heritage, but introducing a new one.

And culturally, it makes perfect sense. There is a handmade carpet in almost every Emirati household I have ever visited. So this was an opportunity to merge cultures in a meaningful way — a form of cultural diplomacy.

Something I want to add here is: if you look around the world today, there are very few countries left where people still weave handmade carpets — and even fewer where they do it from the heart, as their livelihood. Afghanistan is one of those rare places. Carpets are still woven in people’s homes there, by hand, with emotion and intention. That is what makes them so special. And those are the stories we want to bring to global markets — stories of craft, of culture, of lives woven into every piece.

I genuinely believe Afghanistan is one of the last countries in the world where handmade carpets are still woven from the heart.

— FBMI does incredibly important work. But how would you define the impact?

— We are always looking at how many people we can support, how many we can employ — really, the maximum number of beneficiaries. And to give you a quick example, our most successful social commitment has been healthcare.

In 2020, we joined the fight against polio. Afghanistan and Pakistan are the only countries in the world where the wild poliovirus is still present. We are very close to eradicating it — it would be only the second disease in human history to be eradicated, after smallpox.

Since then, through mobile outreach and healthcare initiatives, we have directly benefited more than 1.8 million people. And these are direct beneficiaries. For an organisation that isn’t an international agency or a charity, that receives no government funding and relies solely on social enterprise sales — carpets, dried fruits, the Emirati District, Diplomacy Lab — this impact is extraordinary.

Beyond healthcare, the numbers speak for themselves. Since we began, we have put more than 20,000 children back in school. We don’t build or run schools — that isn’t the issue. The problem isn’t the lack of buildings; it is that children aren’t receiving education.

So instead, we focused on access: digital schooling for girls who are unable to attend in person, literacy classes for mothers and community members, and support systems that allow families to keep their children in education.

— Do you remember any story about one of these children?

— One story that really stayed with me happened while I was travelling to one of our centres in Jalalabad. The road from Kabul to Jalalabad is extremely narrow and winding — you can’t see what is coming around the corner.

Children often stand on those bends to guide traffic instead of going to school. Sometimes drivers give them a small tip.

At one point, I stopped the car and asked a group of boys what they were doing there and why they weren’t in school. They told me their mother was unwell, their father had passed away, and they had no choice but to work.

Later, we helped their mother set up a small grocery shop in their village — something she could manage despite her health. And the boys went back to school.

— Did they actually want to study?

— Every single child I have ever spoken to in Afghanistan wants to go to school. Every one of them. They want to learn, and they want their siblings to learn. I don’t know where they are now, but I know this: children want to study.

Often, the barrier to education is something very simple — like stationery. Children feel ashamed to attend school without notebooks or pens. One of our education officers once asked a child why he wasn’t attending, and he said, “Because the boy next to me has stationery and I don’t.” So we provide free stationery as well.

Our education department stays in continuous contact with headteachers to make sure the children actually attend school. That follow-up is key.

We also run a digital education pilot. As you know, Afghanistan is the only country in the world where girls cannot attend school past the primary level. They can study up to grade six — after that, they must stay home. Child marriage has gone up, mental health problems have risen — everything is worsening.

So we partnered with international experts, digitised the mathematics curriculum — a culturally acceptable subject — and began online teaching for girls at home. The results were incredible: scores in the 95–98% range. It showed just how strong the desire to learn is.

Education must continue; otherwise, we lose generation after generation.

And this doesn’t even include the capacity-building we do with mothers — training programs, midwife support, and medical outreach. Our medical team alone has 220 doctors, nurses, midwives, and vaccinators. Their job includes encouraging mothers to give birth in our clinics, rather than at home, which is far less safe.

Last year alone, in 2024, we opened ten new mother-and-child clinics in rural Afghanistan. In one of them, the first baby born was a girl. Her mother named her Fatima after FBMI.

— What is next for FBMI?

— The goal is to expand to 50 countries worldwide. Not necessarily within 10 years — you never really know — but that is the vision: reaching 50 countries.

Right now, we are very focused on the UAE. We have the Emirati District, a partnership with the Federal Youth Authority, where we support homegrown Emirati businesses. They produce incredible products — candles, dates, food items, souvenirs — all truly made in the UAE, which is rare to find in Dubai.

Next, we are looking at rural development within the UAE itself: villages and areas where we can support female artisans. We want to engage senior citizens through crafts and arts, and also empower food artisans, talli makers, and traditional Emirati craftswomen. The goal is to bring their work to international markets. That is a major part of our agenda for next year.

We also have a few additional projects in the pipeline that aren’t public yet. But by this time next year, the aim is to launch five new social enterprises. It is ambitious, but it would be an incredible achievement.

We are also preparing for expansion into Senegal and Zanzibar in 2026. So we are pushing as hard as we can.

And honestly, we are very fortunate — everything we do is built on the support of our customers. They are the foundation. They want to buy products that come from people who don’t usually get opportunities, and we are the bridge connecting these artisans to global markets.