The work of building, written down.

I grew up in Moshi, in a town that the mountain quietly supervises. Kilimanjaro is the kind of presence that teaches you patience without ever asking for your attention. You see it most clearly on the days the haze burns off, and you forget it most days when work is busy and the sky is ordinary. It is always there. It always was.

My schooling moved across the country — Korongoni Primary in Moshi, ALCP Kilasara Secondary in Kilimanjaro, Kazima High School in Tabora, and finally Mbeya University of Science and Technology, where I took my degree in computer engineering. I knew the year I picked the degree that I wanted to build software, and I knew, almost as a separate second thought, that I wanted to build it in Africa rather than somewhere easier.

Faith showed up early and stayed. I am Christian, in a way that is more about discipline and a long view than it is about visibility. When I read about engineers I admire, the ones who built things that outlived them, they almost all had something they answered to that was bigger than the quarter.

I founded Saby Infotech in 2023 — a Tanzanian software development and AI consulting agency based in Dar es Salaam — to do work I could be proud of for the next twenty years. Service-first, not venture-led. We take on engagements where the client needs a system built properly and is willing to be patient enough to let it be built properly. That filter does most of the work.

Today the team does two things.

The catalogue of past work is on the /work page — projects like Innosphere (an AI and robotics programme Saby built and ran for African youth across 2024), Watton (an IoT mobile app for household energy), and Tenga (a consumer mobile product on both stores). The work is complete; the documentation lives on as a record.

Documentation is the other discipline I take seriously. We document decisions, not just code — a written reason for every architectural choice that lasts longer than a conversation. It is the difference between a team that can onboard a new engineer in a week and a team that loses three months of momentum every time someone leaves.

The thirty-year goal is not a software company. The software company is the apparatus that funds the goal. What I want to build, in time, is a training centre and innovation hub in Tanzania that produces engineers, and eventually a university that produces them at scale. The shortest version of the argument is that Africa does not need cheaper imported software; it needs more African engineers writing software in Africa.

The YouTube channel is education at scale, while we save up to build the brick-and-mortar version. It is also permission for younger African women to take this work seriously — that has turned out to be more important than I expected when I started filming.

I am Christian, and a mother, and a founder, and an engineer, and none of those identities apologise for the others. The site you are reading is the long record of what that combination is making.