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In 2017, my wife, Adele Brown, was invited to spend three weeks at an NGO in Gulu, Uganda, teaching critical thinking skills to blind high school-age students. I was asked along to document the organisation’s activities. I became fascinated by the town’s main market, where vendors sold goods such as used clothes, fruit and firewood. I asked the Ugandan teachers how I might approach someone to take their portrait. They suggested I offer a modest “model fee” after seeking permission.

One of the students – Emmanuel (Emma) – wanted to assist me. We would visit the market together. When I saw a vendor I wanted to photograph, Emma would approach and seek their consent. Most agreed, but after returning home to New York, I looked at the results and was disappointed. As with other well-intentioned projects, I thought that was the end of it.

The images weren’t working because I felt the vendors were getting lost in their own environment – the backgrounds were too distracting. Adele and I were asked back to the NGO the following year, and this gave me the opportunity to resolve this issue. My eureka moment came when I decided the backdrop I needed was mosquito-netting. This allowed the women to stand out from their working environment while still letting their surroundings come through. The netting also added the symbolism of malaria, one of Uganda’s biggest health problems.

My wife and I noticed that women seemed to be doing nearly all the work, and that became the theme of my project. Emma mentioned a quarry about 10 miles outside town. The women who worked there were breaking rocks all day, reducing them to gravel size and being paid for each jerrycan they filled. Some had small children or babies with them, yet most dressed as though they were going to market – some even wore jewellery.

I encouraged each woman to choose her own pose, giving her full control over how she wanted to be seen. The oldest woman I photographed at the quarry was 74. Another had lost an eye as a result of working there. But like all the women I photographed, they projected real dignity and a strong sense of self.

I was keen to photograph as wide an economic spectrum as possible – women with their own businesses, as well as those at the bottom of the economic ladder. I wanted to know the women’s stories, too, so I collaborated with Ugandan author Beatrice Lamwaka, who interviewed each participant about her circumstances: what had led to her doing the work she did, her hopes and dreams for herself and her children. Northern Uganda is still dealing with the trauma of the civil war and this came through in several of the women’s narratives.

This is Janet, who had been working in the quarry for 10 years when I photographed her. She had eight children to support and, like many of the women we spoke to, she was doing this alone. Her husband, who used to drive a type of motorbike-taxi called a boda boda, had been in an accident and lost a leg. “I am now the husband in this home,” she said, “and I have to do whatever I can to keep this house standing.” Many of the women had started working at the quarry as children because that’s what their mothers were doing. My portraits also included one of 10-year-old Jovia, who had been working there on weekends for four years to help pay her school fees – she wanted to become a doctor.

I called the project HeadStrong and was overwhelmed at how enthusiastic many of the women were when I went back to them with prints. I think photographers had sometimes shown interest before and then never been seen again. I am forever grateful to the 116 women who trusted me to take their portraits. They are the heroes of this project.

Dan Nelken’s CV

Born: 1946, Tel Aviv
High point: HeadStrong stands out as my most meaningful project. My hope is that the book will introduce readers to a group of remarkable women who, from their Ugandan perspectives, share a universal story of hope, often in the face of adversity, and aspire to build a better life for themselves and their children.
Top tip: No matter what project you undertake, stay open-minded. Often, the direction I thought I was headed when I began new work deviated in unexpected ways that ultimately improved my original concept. And it often takes longer than you plan.

• See more at dannelken.com or on Instagram @headstrong_ug